CHAPTER III

THAT OUR AFFECTIONS CARRY THEMSELVES BEYOND US

Such as accuse mankind of the folly of gaping after future things, and

advise us to make our benefit of those which are present, and to set up

our rest upon them, as having no grasp upon that which is to come, even

less than that which we have upon what is past, have hit upon the most

universal of human errors, if that may be called an error to which nature

herself has disposed us, in order to the continuation of her own work,

prepossessing us, amongst several others, with this deceiving

imagination, as being more jealous of our action than afraid of our

knowledge.

We are never present with, but always beyond ourselves: fear, desire,

hope, still push us on towards the future, depriving us, in the meantime,

of the sense and consideration of that which is to amuse us with the

thought of what shall be, even when we shall be no more.--[Rousseau,

Emile, livre ii.]

“Calamitosus est animus futuri auxius.”

[“The mind anxious about the future is unhappy.”

--Seneca, Epist., 98.]

We find this great precept often repeated in Plato, “Do thine own work,

and know thyself.” Of which two parts, both the one and the other

generally, comprehend our whole duty, and do each of them in like manner

involve the other; for who will do his own work aright will find that his

first lesson is to know what he is, and that which is proper to himself;

and who rightly understands himself will never mistake another man’s work

for his own, but will love and improve himself above all other things,

will refuse superfluous employments, and reject all unprofitable thoughts

and propositions. As folly, on the one side, though it should enjoy all

it desire, would notwithstanding never be content, so, on the other,

wisdom, acquiescing in the present, is never dissatisfied with itself.

--[Cicero, Tusc. Quae., 57, v. 18.]--Epicurus dispenses his sages from

all foresight and care of the future.

Amongst those laws that relate to the dead, I look upon that to be very

sound by which the actions of princes are to be examined after their

decease.--[Diodorus Siculus, i. 6.]-- They are equals with, if not

masters of the laws, and, therefore, what justice could not inflict upon

their persons, ‘tis but reason should be executed upon their reputations

and the estates of their successors--things that we often value above

life itself. ‘Tis a custom of singular advantage to those countries

where it is in use, and by all good princes to be desired, who have

reason to take it ill, that the memories of the wicked should be used

with the same reverence and respect with their own. We owe subjection

and obedience to all our kings, whether good or bad, alike, for that has

respect unto their office; but as to esteem and affection, these are only

due to their virtue. Let us grant to political government to endure them

with patience, however unworthy; to conceal their vices; and to assist

them with our recommendation in their indifferent actions, whilst their

authority stands in need of our support. But, the relation of prince and

subject being once at an end, there is no reason we should deny the

expression of our real opinions to our own liberty and common justice,

and especially to interdict to good subjects the glory of having

reverently and faithfully served a prince, whose imperfections were to

them so well known; this were to deprive posterity of a useful example.

And such as, out of respect to some private obligation, unjustly espouse

and vindicate the memory of a faulty prince, do private right at the

expense of public justice. Livy does very truly say,--[xxxv. 48.]--

“That the language of men bred up in courts is always full of vain

ostentation and false testimony, every one indifferently magnifying his

own master, and stretching his commendation to the utmost extent of

virtue and sovereign grandeur.” Some may condemn the freedom of those

two soldiers who so roundly answered Nero to his beard; the one being

asked by him why he bore him ill-will? “I loved thee,” answered he,

“whilst thou wert worthy of it, but since thou art become a parricide, an

incendiary, a player, and a coachman, I hate thee as thou dost deserve.”

And the other, why he should attempt to kill him? “Because,” said he,

“I could think of no other remedy against thy perpetual mischiefs.”

--[Tacitus, Annal., xv. 67.]--But the public and universal testimonies

that were given of him after his death (and so will be to all posterity,

both of him and all other wicked princes like him), of his tyrannies and

abominable deportment, who, of a sound judgment, can reprove them?

I am scandalised, that in so sacred a government as that of the

Lacedaemonians there should be mixed so hypocritical a ceremony at the

interment of their kings; where all their confederates and neighbours,

and all sorts and degrees of men and women, as well as their slaves, cut

and slashed their foreheads in token of sorrow, repeating in their cries

and lamentations that that king (let him have been as wicked as the

devil) was the best that ever they had;--[Herodotus, vi. 68.]--by this

means attributing to his quality the praise that only belongs to merit,

and that of right is due to supreme desert, though lodged in the lowest

and most inferior subject.

Aristotle, who will still have a hand in everything, makes a ‘quaere’

upon the saying of Solon, that none can be said to be happy until he is

dead: “whether, then, he who has lived and died according to his heart’s

desire, if he have left an ill repute behind him, and that his posterity

be miserable, can be said to be happy?” Whilst we have life and motion,

we convey ourselves by fancy and preoccupation, whither and to what we

please; but once out of being, we have no more any manner of

communication with that which is, and it had therefore been better said

by Solon that man is never happy, because never so, till he is no more.

“Quisquam

Vix radicitus e vita se tollit, et eicit;

Sed facit esse sui quiddam super inscius ipse,

Nec removet satis a projecto corpore sese, et

Vindicat.”

[“Scarcely one man can, even in dying, wholly detach himself from

the idea of life; in his ignorance he must needs imagine that there

is in him something that survives him, and cannot sufficiently

separate or emancipate himself from his remains”

--Lucretius, iii. 890.]

Bertrand de Guesclin, dying at the siege of the Castle of Rancon, near

unto Puy, in Auvergne, the besieged were afterwards, upon surrender,

enjoined to lay down the keys of the place upon the corpse of the dead

general. Bartolommeo d’Alviano, the Venetian General, happening to die

in the service of the Republic in Brescia, and his corpse being to be

carried through the territory of Verona, an enemy’s country, most of the

army were inclined to demand safe-conduct from the Veronese; but Theodoro

Trivulzio opposed the motion, rather choosing to make his way by force of

arms, and to run the hazard of a battle, saying it was by no means fit

that he who in his life was never afraid of his enemies should seem to

apprehend them when he was dead. In truth, in affairs of the same

nature, by the Greek laws, he who made suit to an enemy for a body to

give it burial renounced his victory, and had no more right to erect a

trophy, and he to whom such suit was made was reputed victor. By this

means it was that Nicias lost the advantage he had visibly obtained over

the Corinthians, and that Agesilaus, on the contrary, assured that which

he had before very doubtfully gained over the Boeotians.--[Plutarch,

Life of Nicias, c. ii.; Life of Agesilaus, c. vi.]

These things might appear strange, had it not been a general practice in

all ages not only to extend the concern of ourselves beyond this life,

but, moreover, to fancy that the favour of Heaven does not only very

often accompany us to the grave, but has also, even after life, a concern

for our ashes. Of which there are so many ancient examples (to say

nothing of those of our own observation), that it is not necessary I

should longer insist upon it. Edward I., King of England, having in the

long wars betwixt him and Robert, King of Scotland, had experience of how

great importance his own immediate presence was to the success of his

affairs, having ever been victorious in whatever he undertook in his own

person, when he came to die, bound his son in a solemn oath that, so soon

as he should be dead he should boil his body till the flesh parted from

the bones, and bury the flesh, reserving the bones to carry continually

with him in his army, so often as he should be obliged to go against the

Scots, as if destiny had inevitably attached victory, even to his

remains. John Zisca, the same who, to vindication of Wicliffe’s

heresies, troubled the Bohemian state, left order that they should flay

him after his death, and of his skin make a drum to carry in the war

against his enemies, fancying it would contribute to the continuation of

the successes he had always obtained in the wars against them. In like

manner certain of the Indians, in their battles with the Spaniards,

carried with them the bones of one of their captains, in consideration of

the victories they had formerly obtained under his conduct. And other

people of the same New World carry about with them, in their wars, the

relics of valiant men who have died in battle, to incite their courage

and advance their fortune. Of which examples the first reserve nothing

for the tomb but the reputation they have acquired by their former

achievements, but these attribute to them a certain present and active

power.

The proceeding of Captain Bayard is of a better composition, who finding

himself wounded to death with an harquebuss shot, and being importuned to

retire out of the fight, made answer that he would not begin at the last

gasp to turn his back to the enemy, and accordingly still fought on, till

feeling himself too faint and no longer able to sit on his horse, he

commanded his steward to set him down at the foot of a tree, but so that

he might die with his face towards the enemy, which he did.

I must yet add another example, equally remarkable for the present

consideration with any of the former. The Emperor Maximilian,

great-grandfather to the now King Philip,--[Philip II. of Spain.]--was a

prince endowed throughout with great and extraordinary qualities, and

amongst the rest with a singular beauty of person, but had withal a

humour very contrary to that of other princes, who for the despatch of

their most important affairs convert their close-stool into a chair of

State, which was, that he would never permit any of his bedchamber, how

familiar soever, to see him in that posture, and would steal aside to

make water as religiously as a virgin, shy to discover to his physician

or any other whomsoever those parts that we are accustomed to conceal.

I myself, who have so impudent a way of talking, am, nevertheless,

naturally so modest this way, that unless at the importunity of necessity

or pleasure, I scarcely ever communicate to the sight of any either those

parts or actions that custom orders us to conceal, wherein I suffer more

constraint than I conceive is very well becoming a man, especially of my

profession. But he nourished this modest humour to such a degree of

superstition as to give express orders in his last will that they should

put him on drawers so soon as he should be dead; to which, methinks, he

would have done well to have added that he should be blindfolded, too,

that put them on. The charge that Cyrus left with his children, that

neither they, nor any other, should either see or touch his body after

the soul was departed from it,--[Xenophon, Cyropedia, viii. 7.]--I

attribute to some superstitious devotion of his; for both his historian

and himself, amongst their great qualities, marked the whole course of

their lives with a singular respect and reverence to religion.

I was by no means pleased with a story, told me by a man of very great

quality of a relation of mine, and one who had given a very good account

of himself both in peace and war, that, coming to die in a very old age,

of excessive pain of the stone, he spent the last hours of his life in an

extraordinary solicitude about ordering the honour and ceremony of his

funeral, pressing all the men of condition who came to see him to engage

their word to attend him to his grave: importuning this very prince, who

came to visit him at his last gasp, with a most earnest supplication that

he would order his family to be there, and presenting before him several

reasons and examples to prove that it was a respect due to a man of his

condition; and seemed to die content, having obtained this promise, and

appointed the method and order of his funeral parade. I have seldom

heard of so persistent a vanity.

Another, though contrary curiosity (of which singularity, also, I do not

want domestic example), seems to be somewhat akin to this, that a man

shall cudgel his brains at the last moments of his life to contrive his

obsequies to so particular and unusual a parsimony as of one servant with

a lantern, I see this humour commended, and the appointment of Marcus.

Emilius Lepidus, who forbade his heirs to bestow upon his hearse even the

common ceremonies in use upon such occasions. Is it yet temperance and

frugality to avoid expense and pleasure of which the use and knowledge

are imperceptible to us? See, here, an easy and cheap reformation. If

instruction were at all necessary in this case, I should be of opinion

that in this, as in all other actions of life, each person should

regulate the matter according to his fortune; and the philosopher Lycon

prudently ordered his friends to dispose of his body where they should

think most fit, and as to his funeral, to order it neither too

superfluous nor too mean. For my part, I should wholly refer the

ordering of this ceremony to custom, and shall, when the time comes,

accordingly leave it to their discretion to whose lot it shall fall to do

me that last office. “Totus hic locus est contemnendus in nobis, non

negligendus in nostris;”--[“The place of our sepulture is to be contemned

by us, but not to be neglected by our friends.”--Cicero, Tusc. i. 45.]--

and it was a holy saying of a saint, “Curatio funeris, conditio

sepultura: pompa exequiarum, magis sunt vivorum solatia, quam subsidia

mortuorum.”--[“The care of death, the place of sepulture, the pomps of

obsequies, are rather consolations to the living than succours to the

dead.” August. De Civit. Dei, i. 12.]--Which made Socrates answer

Crito, who, at death, asked him how he would be buried: “How you will,”

said he. “If I were to concern myself beyond the present about this

affair, I should be most tempted, as the greatest satisfaction of this

kind, to imitate those who in their lifetime entertain themselves with

the ceremony and honours of their own obsequies beforehand, and are

pleased with beholding their own dead countenance in marble. Happy are

they who can gratify their senses by insensibility, and live by their

death!”

I am ready to conceive an implacable hatred against all popular

domination, though I think it the most natural and equitable of all, so

oft as I call to mind the inhuman injustice of the people of Athens, who,

without remission, or once vouchsafing to hear what they had to say for

themselves, put to death their brave captains newly returned triumphant

from a naval victory they had obtained over the Lacedaemonians near the

Arginusian Isles, the most bloody and obstinate engagement that ever the

Greeks fought at sea; because (after the victory) they followed up the

blow and pursued the advantages presented to them by the rule of war,

rather than stay to gather up and bury their dead. And the execution is

yet rendered more odious by the behaviour of Diomedon, who, being one of

the condemned, and a man of most eminent virtue, political and military,

after having heard the sentence, advancing to speak, no audience till

then having been allowed, instead of laying before them his own cause,

or the impiety of so cruel a sentence, only expressed a solicitude for

his judges’ preservation, beseeching the gods to convert this sentence to

their good, and praying that, for neglecting to fulfil the vows which he

and his companions had made (with which he also acquainted them) in

acknowledgment of so glorious a success, they might not draw down the

indignation of the gods upon them; and so without more words went

courageously to his death.

Fortune, a few years after, punished them in the same kind; for Chabrias,

captain-general of their naval forces, having got the better of Pollis,

Admiral of Sparta, at the Isle of Naxos, totally lost the fruits of his

victory, one of very great importance to their affairs, in order not to

incur the danger of this example, and so that he should not lose a few

bodies of his dead friends that were floating in the sea, gave

opportunity to a world of living enemies to sail away in safety, who

afterwards made them pay dear for this unseasonable superstition:--

“Quaeris, quo jaceas, post obitum, loco?

Quo non nata jacent.”

[“Dost ask where thou shalt lie after death?

Where things not born lie, that never being had.”]

Seneca, Tyoa. Choro ii. 30.

This other restores the sense of repose to a body without a soul:

“Neque sepulcrum, quo recipiatur, habeat: portum corporis, ubi,

remissa human, vita, corpus requiescat a malis.”

[“Nor let him have a sepulchre wherein he may be received, a haven

for his body, where, life being gone, that body may rest from its

woes.”--Ennius, ap. Cicero, Tusc. i. 44.]

As nature demonstrates to us that several dead things retain yet an

occult relation to life; wine changes its flavour and complexion in

cellars, according to the changes and seasons of the vine from whence it

came; and the flesh of--venison alters its condition in the

powdering-tub, and its taste according to the laws of the living

flesh of its kind, as it is said.

Essays of Michel de Montaigne — Complete · 第 3 / 73 章