Translated by Charles Four volumes. Art. VII. QUE SÇAIS-JE?' --- 1. The Essays of Montaigne. Cotton. Edited by W. C. Hazlitt. 2. The Journal of Montaigne's Travels. Translated and 4. Du Sentiment Artistique dans la Morale de Montaigne. Euvre posthume d'Édouard Ruel. Préface de M. Émile Faguet. Paris: Hachette, 1901. 5. Michel de Montaigne: a Biographical Study. By M. E. Lowndes. Cambridge: University Press, 1898. 6. Agnosticism. The Croall Lecture for 1887-8. By Robert Flint, D.D. Edinburgh and London: Blackwood, 1903. 7. The Unknown God: an Essay. By Sir Henry Thompson, Bart., F.R.C.S. London and New York: Warne, 1902. 6 WHEN Emerson visited Paris in 1833 he observed a monument in the cemetery of Père-la-Chaise erected in memory of one Auguste Collignon, bearing the inscription: 'He lived to do right, and had formed himself to virtue on the Essays of Montaigne.' It would not be too bold an assertion to say that a not inconsiderable number of his countrymen have, during the last three centuries, taken Montaigne, whom Mézeray calls the Christian Seneca,' for their model in manners and morals. Montaigne is to the French what Shakespeare is to the English. What Mark Pattison said of him in this Review nearly fifty years ago is still true, that Montaigne's Essays form a perpetual topic in France, as the plays of Shakespeare do here, and for the same reason-'on y trouve ce qu'on a jamais pensé.' With Shakespeare, Montaigne shares the characteristic of universality. He belongs not only to his own country, but to the world; not only to his own age, but to all time. Érasme fait la critique morale d'une époque,' says M. Ruel; Montaigne observe et peint l'homme de tous les temps.' His continued popularity in this country is proved by the appearance in recent years of several new editions of the two translations by Florio and Cotton. A library edition of Cotton's translation, claiming to be the most accurate revised authorised version now extant, stands at the head of our list. A reprint of Florio's racy version, reproducing the quaintness and peculiar flavour of the original, appeared a few years ago in six pocket volumes of the 'Temple Classics,' with marginal indices of contents, notes, and glossaries, by Mr Israel Gollancz, of considerable value. It would appear, then, that the declaration of Lord Halifax, in his vindication of Cotton's translation (1685), that the Essays should be the Manuale of all gentlemen,' is meeting with general approval. Nor are the students of Montaigne left without guides in their perusal of the Essays. Mr Lowndes's excellent study, issued five years ago by the Cambridge University Press; the monograph of Paul Stapfer in the series of Les Grands Écrivains Français'; the fine appreciation of Montaigne in M. Faguet's sixteenth century studies; and the invaluable work of Bonnefon on Montaigne, l'homme et l'œuvre,' contain all that is required to keep readers of Montaigne acquainted with recent additions to our knowledge. 6 6 Besides these works we have now a much needed, faithful, and fluent translation by Mr Waters of Montaigne's 'Journal,' giving a full description of his travels during the seventeen months following the first publication of the Essays in 1580. This translation, preceded by a spirited introduction giving a flavour of the, intellectual repast in store for the reader, and accompanied by notes in which the editor makes a judicious use of Professor Ancona's Italian edition will be welcomed by all those who can appreciate the biographical value of the Journal. For, even more than the Essays, it bears the impress of personal quality,' as it constitutes the record of first impressions, is a kind of bulletin de santé-for Montaigne travelled for his health-and thus exhibits him both in his weakness and his strength, giving us a perfect picture of his real character. What adds to the interest of the Journal is the fact that its observations on men and things throw much light on the Essays. Indeed, the third book of the Essays, and many additions and corrections in later editions, bear undoubted traces of its influence. The journey was accomplished mostly on horseback, not so much because Montaigne preferred this to a more luxurious way of travelling, as he tells us, but mainly because it afforded greater opportunities for observation and for following those reveries which he delighted in and which were the chief cause of digression in the Essays. 'Montaigne continue ainsi les flâneries qu'il faisait auparavant,―et de la même sorte,-au travers des livres; d'une et d'autre part, il se laisse guider par sa fantaisie, par son humeur buissonnière, et, ici comme là, il retrouve cette succession rapide de mœurs si variées, si contraires, qui viennent confirmer si fortement ce qu'il pense de l'homme, "sujet merveilleusement vain, divers et ondoyant." (Bonnefon, p. 273.) Here, as there, it is the insatiable curiosity of his inquiring mind, the love of the unknown, which forms the main force dragging him into strange by-paths and untrodden regions, so that he forgets his ailment in this pursuit, ' plein de désir et d'allégresse, haïssant voisinage du lieu où il se devait reposer.' He visited some of the most interesting towns of Switzerland and Germany-Basel, Baden, Augsburg, Munich, and Innsbruck - passing through Tyrol into Italy, giving us in his diary an unvarnished account of his impressions, but, unlike the modern impressionist, such as Mr A. Symons, in his recent book on 'Cities,' or M. Bourget in Outre Mer,' without recondite or sentimental reflections. Montaigne writes with the freedom of a philosopher and the enjoyment of satisfied curiosity. He has no eye for effects, but an eye for all that interests himself. The Journal of Montaigne's Travels' is a 'journal de bonne foi.' It displays a good deal of the 'egoism of travel,' giving, with tedious minuteness, the particulars of his dietary at the baths of Plombières, and lengthy descriptions of artificial waterworks and other mechanical contrivances. Even the peculiar turning of a spit and methods of foreign cookery are not considered beneath his notice. The material prosperity of Italy engages his attention as much as her classical treasures. The 'Eternal City' has little charm for him. Nothing remains of Rome, he complains, but its sepulchre.' He falls into no raptures over the works of the great painters of his century, though he mentions the statues and paintings then being collected in the Vatican. He is attracted by a bust of Bembo at Padua, and that of Livy, a thin, wan, studious, melancholy face, but so admirably sculptured that it seems to want nothing but a voice to make it living.' He mentions the portrait galleries in the Farnese Palace, and speaks of 'several excellent pictures, and some statues by Michael Angelo' in the church of San Lorenzo at Florence; but neither here nor in Rome does he display any marked affection for art or the antique. A woman of the people reciting some lines from Ariosto, a country-dance, the execution of a noted brigand, are recorded with particular interest. He looks on the world with a fresh, clear eye, and records what he sees with simplicity. Here, as in the Essays, at home as abroad, we are permitted to see him exactly as he is, himself the central figure, the most interesting person. 'These various amusements,' he says, 'sufficed to keep me in occupation; and neither indoors, nor out, was I ever troubled with melancholy, which is death to me, or with any feelings of annoyance.' Montaigne speaks throughout as a citizen of the world, not despising the manners and customs of the people whose land he visits, but endeavouring to adapt himself to their ways, studying their institutions with an open mind, and trying, by conversation with celebrated men of diverse views, to increase his stock of knowledge. He is equally at home with Maldonatus the Jesuit, and Hottmann the Protestant; he visits the Jewish synagogue at Verona and watches the rite of circumcision in Romeall this on the principle laid down in one of the essays. 'Travelling seems to me an improving exercise. The mind finds constant employment in observing strange and novel sights; and I know no better school to fashion one's life than to place continually before us so great a variety of other lives, humours, and customs, and to make acquaintance with such a constant diversity of the forms of human nature.' Here, as in the Essays, he permits us to see some of his weaknesses, His vanity is gratified when, in kissing the Pope's slipper, he sees or imagines that his Holiness 'slightly raised his foot.' With characteristic vanity he tells us how he set all his wits to work in order to obtain the title of Roman citizen-an empty title, as he acknowledged, but one the possession of which gave him 'much pleasure.' Here, too, we have instances of that stoical firmness and strength of character on which he so frequently descants in the Essays. In the Travels we see him maintaining a constant cheerfulness, which helps him to delight in natural scenery at the very time when he is suffering exquisite pain on the way from Terni to Spoleto and near the baths of Lucca. Here it is where, amid great bodily suffering, he gives expression to those noble words : 'It would be too great cowardice and ischifiltá on my part if, knowing that I am every day in danger of death from these ailments, and drawing nearer thereto every hour in the course of nature, I did not do my best to bring myself into a fitting mood to meet my end whenever it may come; and in this respect it is wise to take joyfully all the good fortune God may send. Moreover, there is no remedy, nor rule, nor knowledge whereby to keep clear of these evils which, from every side and at every minute, gather round man's footsteps, save in the resolve to endure them with dignity or boldly and promptly make an end of them' (vol. iii, p. 140). But perhaps the most touching interest of all attaches to the brief allusion to the friend commemorated in the Essays. 'While I was writing that same morning to M. Ossat, I fell thinking of M. de la Boëtie, and I remained in this mood so long that I sank into the saddest humour.' The friend of his youth had been dead seventeen years. Thus the inward converse of the Essays' reappears in the Journal throughout: the man reveals himself in the author. 'Quel charmant, quel commode, et quel joli voyageur c'était que cet homme!' exclaims Sainte-Beuve at the close of the causerie on the Travels-'que de vigueur de pensée ! quel sentiment de la grandeur, quand il y a lieu! que de hardiesse et aussi d'adresse en lui! J'appelle Montaigne "le plus sage qui ait jamais existé."' It is, however, as the inventor of the essay,' the creator of modern criticism, but still more as the father |