One ordinary life as the whole subject
Can a man who studies no one but himself learn anything that holds for others? Everything turns on whether an unremarkable life, with its body, appetites and moods, is a fair sample of being human or only a private curiosity.
Montaigne refuses the exemplary subject. Instead of taking heroes or sages as the measure of a life, he sets down his own habits, ailments, appetites and lapses, wagering that an unremarkable man shows what being human is as fully as a great one. The body and its desires are not distractions from the self but part of what is examined, and moderation is learned from them rather than imposed on them. Because the book grew for twenty years without erasures, it records a self that changes, and inconsistency becomes evidence rather than error.
- self-knowledge
- human nature
- embodiment
- desire
- pleasure
- sexuality
- emotion
- moderation
Enter a dialogue
- You advise keeping a back room of one's own, where a person can talk and laugh as if without wife, children or possessions. What is that room for?
- Isn't a whole book about your own illnesses and appetites simply vanity dressed up as philosophy?
- Democritus, the laughing philosopher, mocked human life while Heraclitus wept over it. You prefer the laugher, since pity still values what it mourns. Why is scorn more honest?
- Publishing your faults, you hope, will teach someone to fear them rather than copy them. Can a portrait of a flawed man serve as a warning?
- Only Socrates, you say, truly took his god's command to know himself to heart, and it left him despising himself. Why did that make him wisest?