Montaigne, Essays
Montaigne’s philosophy at first seems highly troubling for it radically denigrates what is often considered as the most divine attribute in man: reason. In fact, Montaigne claims that perfect rationality is neither possible nor desirable for a common man. In a sense, his Essays is the collection of his personal trials that undermine the traditional Aristotelian conception of the perfect form. Instead of stressing the ideal, he bares what is real—a common, weak, and imperfect man, i.e. himself. In the end, Montaigne claims that a reason must be submitted to experience, the most ‘perfect’ quality of man. For Montaigne, the knowledge of oneself—and one’s ignorance—is the divine, and it is only through the experience by which he comes to know himself.
Whereas for Aristotle the experience is merely the first step on a way to metaphysics, it is the ends in itself for Montaigne. Experience can never occupy the higher ladder in Aristotle’s philosophy because it does not know the why. Only metaphysics can completely fulfill the natural desire of knowledge. On the contrary, Montaigne says, “…of our sciences, those seem to me most terrestrial and low which have risen the highest” (856). He does not seek the universal or the final cause.
Accordingly, his invention of the “new figure: an unpremeditated and accidental philosopher,” in rejection of the Aristotelian form, is not at all surprising. His ‘figure,’ based on the irrational and private individual, forms a direct opposite to Aristotle’s concept of the great soul. For Aristotle, the ultimate virtue lies in the political space. The moral virtue can only occur in public space, where shameful realm of the domestic and private never enters. Anything of the perfect form is complete, and, therefore, unsusceptible to trials. Yet, Montaigne associates such form with the defect, precisely because of its impassivity to judgments. Therefore, he replaces ‘greatness of soul’ with the ‘openness of mind,’ and sets the latter as the true virtue. For Montaigne, impossibility of assaying means vice. He denies the existence of the one and universal form, since the things are more dissimilar than similar. Difference and diversity that reveals both true and false is truer than the form that gives the true only. Even when one attempts to secure rationality and correct ‘the unruliness of thought,’ clinging to the impossible notion of the form achieves nothing; it is the knowledge of both the good and evil, earned from everyday experience, which produces the real effect.
In fact, Montaigne’s emphasis on the familiar and ordinary reappears in his discussion of the common man versus the philosopher. Again, he attacks Aristotle’s belief that perfection—of reason or morality—is only found in philosopher. In fact, Montaigne not even attempts to distinguish the ‘man’ and the ‘philosopher.’ He believes “each man bears the entire form of man’s estate” (611), i.e., every man is complete in what he is. This notion, then, inevitably leads Montaigne to redefine philosophy as that of the active doing—the judgment. He focuses on ‘the common’ to avoid arrogant presumption, “the first foundation of the tyranny of the evil spirit” (328). Montaigne rearranges philosophy so that it escapes passivity and becomes the doing itself. For him, philosophy is not a mere contemplation but an active essai-ing. Understanding of the reason is never alone sufficient. An effectual philosophy must also be based on the active judgment of experiences. Only then can man become the master of nature and produce an effect for the common good.
Finally, in this Montaigne’s lowering of the aim of philosophy, from knowing the complete being to learning how to enjoy our being, one finds “an absolute perfection and virtually divine” (856). Anything divine never comes from outside of ourselves; it must be found within. After all, the “sociable wisdom,” Montaigne’s ultimate philosophical goal, arises from the lives, which “conform to the common human patter, with the order, but without miracle and without eccentricity” (857).