forthwith into war, the King of England derived the first hint of what he afterwards found to be the fact — that this ambassador was privily inclined to the side of France; and having advised his master of that fact, his property was confiscated and he was very near losing his life.[1]
CHAPTER X
OF READINESS OR UNREADINESS OF SPEECH
As we turn the pages of this volume of the Essays, more and more we slip into the mood of conversation. Montaigne is talking to us, and soon we are so interested that we find ourselves answering him, discussing with him, and perhaps not listening to him, because we are thinking of what he has said or what he may say.
The peculiar interest of these few pages is that Montaigne here treats not only in general of the subject in hand, but incidentally of his own nature in relation to it. The Essay opens with the remark that some men are always ready for eloquent speech while others need time and preparation. As it is chiefly preachers and lawyers who have need of eloquence, it seems to Montaigne that the slow-witted would make the best preachers, and the quick-witted the best lawyers; and he alleges reasons for this belief, and tells as comment on it a story of a famous lawyer of the day. In France, at least, there are more able lawyers than preachers, he thinks. But he who can say nothing without preparation, and he who speaks none the better for having plenty of time sont en pareil degré. Severus Cassius was said to speak best when suddenly called upon. Here our attention is caught by the words (printed in 1580): “I know by experience that inborn disposition which cannot sustain eager and laborious premeditation.”
He goes on to speak of works that “smell of the oil and the lamp,” and remarks that eagerness to do well hinders the outpouring of the soul, like water when pressing against too small an outlet. This is the effect of all strong passions; the soul must be “solicited,” not “shaken”; but it must be moved; “excitement is its life and is favourable to it.” He says gaily of himself that his talk is worth more than his writings, “if there can be a choice where there is nothing of value”; and the talk ends with a delightful laugh over his confession of those subtilités that he now and again loses so well, that he can never discover their meaning himself. It is self-evident that this last paragraph was one of the passages added in 1595.
- ↑ Probably taken by Montaigne from the Apologie pour Hérodate (XV, 24) of H. Estienne, who translated it from Erasmus, De Lingua.
