Contradictory Impulses in Montaigne's Vision of Rome

Renaissance Studies Vol. 4 No. 4

Contradictory impulses in Montaigne’s vision of Rome

MARGARETMCGOWAN

In a celebrated passage in the Journal Montaigne describes the Rome he saw in 1580 as ‘rien que son sepulchre’. This notion, the city as a tomb, has been interpreted’ as if Montaigne considered ancient Rome as ‘com- pletely dead and buried’, and that the city per se no longer possessed any reverberative power. This view seems to me misguided. Both in the Jour- nal and the Essaz3, ancient Rome represents a major, active force in Mon- taigne’s thinking. Rome was both a source of inspiration and a point of reference which provoked contradictory impulses. To characterize an author’s emotional and intellectual response by concentrating on a single image is unwise, especially as the metaphor ‘tomb’, by the time Mon- taigne was writing, had become something of a literary convention. Du Bellay’s Antiquitez (Sonnets IV and XXIX) and his Latin Elegies (Romae descnptio, line 130) had developed the image which was much copied by later French poets such as Jacques Gr6vin in his play Cbar (c.1561)and in the Sonnets sur Rome (IV, VII, VIII, XIV), by N. Ellain (Les Sonnets, 1570), and by Pierre de Brach (Pokmes, 1576). Du Bellay might also have inspired in Montaigne that paradoxical sense of the physical absence and yet of the intellectual companionship he felt for those Romans who were long dead. This complex feeling of absence/presence, acutely remembered in the ESsais,* might also explain Montaigne’s double vision of Rome as described in the Journal - the progressive nature of Rome’s destruction and the greatness that is lost. Le monde, ennemi de sa longue domination, avoit premierement brid et fracas6 toutes les pieces de ce corps admirable; et, parce qu’encore tout mort, ranverse et defigure‘, il lui faisoit horreur, il [le monde] en

This article is a revised version of a lecture given at The French Studies Conference (Glasgow, 1988). It is important to note that I am not concerned here with Montaigne’s response to sacred ceremonies (see L. Pertile, Bzblzothbque d’Humanzime et Renaissance, 50, no. 3 (1988), 637-59); nor with the influence of Latin Roman writers (for this approach, see Dorothy G. Coleman, The Gallo-Roman Muse, Cambridge, 1979). All references to the Essais are to the Presses Universitaires Francaises edition of 1965. ’ See Roland Mortier, La poitique des ruznes en France (Geneva, 1974), 69-83, and Zachary Schiffman, ‘Montaigne’s perception of ancient Rome: biography as a form of history’, in Rome in the Renaissance, ed. P. A. Ramsay (MRTS, Binghampton, 1982), 345-53. * For an excellent analysis of similar paradoxes in Du Bellay’s Antzquztez, see G. Tucker, ‘A Frenchman’s Rome: a reappraisal of Joachim Du Bellay’s ‘Antiquitez de Rome’ in the light of his poetic development’, D.Phi1 thesis, 1987.

0 1990 The Societyfor Renaissance Studies, Oxford University Press Montaigne’s vision of Rome 393 avoit enseveli la ruine mesme . . . c’estoit la fortune qui les avoit con- servees pour le tesmoignage de cette grandeur infinie que tant de sigcles, tant de fus [feux], la conjuration du monde reiterees 2 tant de fois P sa ruine, n’avoint peu universelemant esteindre . . . c’estoit une expresse ordonnance des destinees pour faire santir au monde leur con- spiration B la gloire et B la preeminance de ceste ville, par un si nouveau extraordinere tesmoignage de sa grandur . In this eloquent statement of how the world and fortune - at war with each other - have both destroyed and preserved Rome’s greatness, Mon- taigne balances the active and co-ordinated determination to destroy - underlined by insistent verbs such as ‘brise et fracasse”, ‘ranverse et dCfigur6’ - against his admiration which he does not attempt to disguise: ‘cette grandeur infinie, la gloire et preeminance de ceste vilie, par un si nouveau extraordinere tesmoignage de sa grandur’. The admiration preserves the impression of greatness but also brings into play Mon- taigne’s sense of loss, two simultaneous yet contrasting notions which are also transmitted in the description of the crumbling Forum which is shown as though its marble blocks were still as fresh and as awe-inspiring as rocks on a mountain: A voir seulement ce qui reste du temple de la paix, le logis du Forum Roman-, duquel on voit encore la chute toute vifve, comme d’une grande montaigne, dissipee en plusieurs horribles rochiers. In exploring Montaigne’s actual experience of Rome, it is necessary to recall both the preparations he made for his journey there and the expec- tations he might already have formed from available printed or pictorial sources. To judge from the books he owned, Montaigne’s knowledge of Roman history was considerable. His affection for literary works6 inspired by Rome - those of Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Catullus, Propertius, and so on - was also profound: while the aspect of actual buildings and

’ All references to Montaigne’sJournal are to the Garnier edition published by Maurice Rat in 1955; the citation can be found at pp. 103-4. It is to be noted that Montaigne, here and in the Essais (111, 9, 960), takes up the words ‘ordonnance fatale’ and the sentiments of Du Bellay, Antiquitez, VI, lines 11-14. ‘Jouml, 104. ’ He owned Antoine AlEgre’s lives of the Emperors (Paris, 1567); Claude de Seyssel’s translation of Appian’s history of Roman civil wars; a 1546 edition of Denys of Halicarnassus’ ten books on Roman antiquities; Dion Cassius History and that of Eutropius; Nicolas Grouchy’s De comztzis Romanorum to which he refers in De l’lnstitution des enfaw (I, 26); the historical work of Salluste and Streinnius (1559); Suetonius’ Twelve Caesars; the Annals of Tacitus; the Roman Histories of Livy; the 1536 translation of Vegetius, Frontinus and Aelian; and Xiphilin’s Rerum romanorurn. See Pierre Villey Sources et duolution des Ejsais de Montaigne (2 vols, Paris, 1933), I, 59 ff. The copy of Dion Cassius with Montaigne’s signature can be found in Eton College Library; I would like to thank Rhys Robinson for drawing my attention to this volume which had not hitherto been noticed by scholars of Montaigne. * For his collection of Roman authors, see relevant entries by Villey, Sources, and the remarks of D. Coleman. Gallo-Roman Muse. 394 Margaret McGowan ancient ceremonies would have been familiar through the many French imitations of Roman monuments, reconstructed for royal entries and for princely palaces such as Meudon or F~ntainebleau.~The sights of Rome had, since the mid-century, been frequently engraved and painted: in the prints issued from the Roman workshops of La Frery, in the works of Androuet du Cerceau, Sebastiano Serlio and Jean Goujon, and in the paintings of Antoine Caron. Caron’s Les Massacres du Triumvirat (1561), for example, depicted all the principal surviving ancient monuments in Rome. Montaigne’s own observations of the neglected landscape of Rome - ‘Les avenues de Rome, quasi partout, se voient pour la plupart incultes et steriles’ (Journal, p. 119) - correspond closely to the pen drawings and sketches made by contemporary artists such as Etienne du Phac. It is clear from the Journal that however winding and apparently ir- resolute was Montaigne’s journey to Rome in 1580 as he sought to prolong the pleasure of arriving,’ when he was almost in sight of the city, his eagerness to set foot there could hardly be contained: ‘Nous en partimes [from Rossiglione] lendemain trois heures avant le jour, tant il [Mon- taigne] avoit envie de voir le pave de Rome’ (p. 93). In preparation for his inspection of the city, Montaigne had purchased a number of books to supplement his popular guide - Lucio Mauro’s Le Antichitit de la citta di Roma (Venice, 1558), which took the reader through the city hill by hill and palace by palace, each object of interest being briefly indi~ated.~ The specialist information which Montaigne found there was less secure, however, than in the works he purchased in Venice: Onufrius Panvinius’ Principum et eorum quarum maxima in Italia imperia fuerunt (Basle, 1558) provided a convenient source of reference, listing dates, titles and genealogies of all the emperors from Augustus to Charles V; while the same author’s compendious Repu blicae Romae commentarium (Venice, 1558) furnished descriptions of Rome (pp. 1-195), its principal civic offices (pp. 296-645), causes of decline (pp. 646-57), organization of Empire (pp. 658-807), and activities of the Roman legions (pp. 808-66). Additionally, Montaigne had a copy of Guillaume du Choul’s Discours de la religion des Romains (Lyon, 1556), a work written by order of Francois Ier and based on the author’s own vast collection of antique medals and upon engravings of marbles and monuments found in Rome - such as the figure taken from Vespasian’s triumphal arch showing the Temple of

’ For further details on the influence of Rome on French art, see my discussion in Ideal Forms in the Age of Ronsard (Berkeley, Calif, 1985), 133-43. His ‘secretary’reported how his companions were impatient with Montaigne’s wayward pro- gress, while Montaigne himself teased them thus: ’Et quant P Rome oh les autres visoint, il la desiroit d’autant moins voir que les autres lieus, qu’elle estoit connue d’un chacun’, p. 65. For purposes of comparison, see Rabelais’s undisguised excitement at the prospect of seeing Rome for the first time, A. Heulhard, Rabelais, ses voyages en Italie, son exil b Meti (Paris, 1891), 43. The literature on guide books to Italy in the Renaissance is immense; G. Dickinson, Du Bellay in Rome (Leiden, 1960), offers a good orientation. Montaipe’s vision of Rome 395 Peace (p. 9), the depiction of the Gods from an antique marble (p. 44), or the holy rites copied from Trajan’s column (p. ZSl).” Montaigne regretted that he had omitted to take with him his copy of Munster’s Cosmogruphiu which he consulted on his return and to which, in the writing of the third book of the Essuzi, he added works by Justus Lipsius, in particular the De amphiteutro of 1584. Information from books was supplemented by observation of the antiquities encountered en route. At Verona, his ‘secretary’ records Mon- taigne’s admiration for the well-maintained amphitheatre of which they counted the levels (p. 69), and measured the circumference (600 feet). Such attention to the detail of an ancient monument is unusual in the Journal before Montaigne’s sojourn in Rome. On the return journey mat- ters are different. Having acquired a keener interest in antiquities, Mon- taigne now enjoyed discovering and deciphering inscriptions. On the way to Tivoli (p. 130), he deciphers the letters of an inscription on the cornice of an ancient temple dedicated to Sybil the prophetess; leaving Rome along the via Flaminia, he notices ‘quelques antiquit& inconnues et rares’; and near Ancona, he sees ‘un grand arc P l’honneur de l’empereur Trajan’. At Pisa, impressed by the number of ancient remains in the town, he records both the number of marble columns in the cathedral (built on the site of emperor Hadrian’s Thermae), and remarks on their different materials, styles and composition: I1 y a un nombre infini de colonnes de differens marbres, ainsi que de forme et de travail differens, et de belles portes de metal. Cette 6glise est ornee de diverses depouilles de la GrPce et de l’Egypte, et bAtie d’anciennes ruines, oii l’on voit diverses inscriptions, dont les unes se trouvent P rebours, les autres P demi tronque‘es; et en certains endroits des caractPres inconnus, que l’on pretend Ctre d’anciens caractPres etrusques (p. 195). Using a comparative approach, which was common to all French observers of the time,” Montaigne looks at the steeple and recalls the slant of the one at Bologna; and when he considers ‘1’Cglise Saint-Jean’,he declares: ‘La forme de cette 6glise resemble P celle de la Rotonde de Rome’ (p. 195). Many of Montaigne’s immediate reactions are typical of the sources he was using - the stress on the city’s dimensions and its emptiness (p. 102), for example - yet, he did not follow his guides slavishly. He was reluctant to duplicate impressions which were already adequately recorded in

lo When Montaigne wanted to try out the waters of Rome, or to trace the course of the Tiber (as he did, down to Ostia), he could find expert details about them in his copy of Andrea Bacci’s Del Tevere e dell’acqua di Roma (Venice, 1576). ” See Andre‘ Thevet, Cosrnographie du Levant (Lyon, 1554), and Nicolas Audebert, Voyage d’ltalze, ed. Adalberto Oliver0 (2 vols, Rome, 1981), as typical examples. 396 Margaret McGowan print,’* and his daily walks among the monuments and ruins of Rome were prepared each night by conscientious work on maps and books: Touts ces jours-12 il ne s’amusa [s’occupa] qu’B estudier Rome . . . il se piqua, par sa propre estude, de venir B bout de ceste science, aid6 de diverses cartes et livres qu’il se faisoit remettre le soir, et le jour alloit sur les lieus mettre en pratique son apprentissage (p. 103).13 Such devotion to study was rewarded with an impressive knowledge of Roman building materials and the manner of construction, as is evident from these remarks: Les ruines de Rome ne se voient pour la pluspart que par le massif et espais du bastiment. 11s faisoint de grosses murailles de brique, et puis ils les encroutoint ou de lames de marbre ou d’une autre pierre blanche, ou de certain cimant ou de gros carreau enduit par dessus. Ceste croute, quasi partout, a estC ruinee par les ans (p. 118). Montaigne’s comments rely simply on his powers of observation, they are not supported, as they were rather laboriously and unnecessarily in Audebert’s or Villamont’s accounts, l4 with constant references to guide books and appeals to other sources of authority. On the other hand, he followed the custom of his fellow travellers in visiting the Belvedere Court and the Vatican Library, admiring the same exhibits” and engaging in learned discourse with savants like Muret. I6 Direct observation confirmed Montaigne’s caution about judging the exact character of ancient monuments, and provided further evidence for his criticism of the work of archaeologists, architects and moral philo- sophers. Visually, the buildings exhibited a composite character whereby new generations had built upon the foundations of older dwellings, often more than 30 feet below the surface. In stressing their layered look, Mon- taigne was projecting a similar picture to that drawn by artists like Etienne du Phac, for he says: On n’y cherche point d’autres fondemens aus maisons que de vieilles masures ou voutes, comme il s’en voit au-dessous de toutes les caves, ny

’’ SeeJournal (p. 130) where of Tivoli, he wrote: ‘J‘y considerai toutes choses fort particuliere- mant; j’essa’ierois de le peindre ici, rnais il y a des livres et peintures publiques de ce sujet,’ ’’ Elsewhere in the Journal, visits to antiquities are represented as an absorbing occupation: ‘Le quartier montueus, qui estoit le siege de la vieille ville, et oh il [Montaigne] faisoit tous les jours mille proumenades et visites’ (p. 94); and p. 127, ‘li, j’avois tousjours quelque occupation . . . comme i visiter les antiquit&, les vignes’; and, for instance, hearing that a wall had just collapsed, he rushed out to inspect the structures that might be revealed (p. 94). Before he left Romp, Montaigne visited the rich collection of Cesarini which was to be dispersed four years later. ’‘ See Audebert, Voyage, passim, where almost every monument’s description is supported by references to Andreas Fulvius, or to Leandro Alberti, among modem authors. ’’ Both Montaigne and Audebert admired the work sent to the pope by Henry VIII; and old manuscripts of Virgil and Terence;Joumal, 113-14, and Audebert, Voyage, 11, 46-9. Ib Journal, 115-16; Audebert, Voyage, 11, 54. Montaipe’s vision ofRome 397 encor l’appuy du fondement antien ny d’un mur qui soit en son assiette; mais sur les brisures mesmes des vieus bastimans, comme la fortune les a log&, en se dissipant, ils ont plant6 le pied de leurs palais nouveaus, comme sur des gros loppins de rochiers, fermes et assures (p. 105). It was less the activity of excavation itself and more the pretensions behind it which Montaigne objected to. Digging did not reveal the classical shapes of ancient Rome but the heterogeneous, multi-layered carcasses constructed by many generations. It was therefore inap- propriate, even here, for architects to use those technical terms which Montaigne ridiculed elsewhere: ‘ces gros mos de pilastres, architraves, corniches, douvrage Corinthien et Dorique’ (I, 51, 307). Jargon does not build edifices: nor do measurement of buildings or trying to match faces on monuments to their image on coins represent fruitful occupations. In Montaigne’s view, journeys to Rome should have other purposes than pour en rapporter seulement, P la mode de nostre noblesse Fransoise, combien de pas a Santa Rotonda . . . ou, comme d’autres, combien le visage de Neron, de quelque vieille ruyne de 12, est plus long ou plus large que celuy de quelque pareille medaille (I, 26, 153). Montaigne thought that any attempt to reconstruct the topography of ancient Rome was doomed to failure, partly because the gap between our limited perceptions and that former reality of Rome is too wide, and partly because visible evidence was inadequate to the extent that ‘un ancien Romain ne sauroit reconnoistre l’assiette de sa ville quand il la verroit’ (p. 105). Although visitors to Rome are impressed by the monumental remains, Montaigne was persuaded that the psychology of vandals would have ensured that these, in fact, represent the least imposing buildings of the ancient world. Thus, whatever hypothesis is advanced about the form of the ancient city, it remained for Montaigne unconvincing and without substance, ” belonging merely to an abstract science, ‘une science abstraite et contemplative, de laquelle il n’y avoit rien qui tumbast sous les sens’ (p. 103). In thus asserting that any vision of ancient Rome was merely the work of the mind, Montaigne was implicitly criticizing the continuing activity of excavating that was going on around him, and mocking the eagerness of princes to ape (through their collections of artefacts) the image and ways of the ancients. On the other hand, he was unreservedly admiring of Du Bellay’s imaginative reconstructions in Les Antiquitez,I8 and it is in the realm of thought that the image of Rome affected Montaigne most powerfully.

” See Journal, 104, ‘h la vCriti, plusieurs conjectures qu’on prent de la peinture de ceste ville ancienne n’ont guiere de verisimilitude’. For an analysis of this reconstruction, see Tucker’s thesis, note 2 above. 398 Margaret McGowan Although actual monuments from the past might be lost for ever, Roman values and models of ancient virtue regularly played a role in Montaigne’s thinking. His own humble cogitations are set against in- finitely more remarkable feats of thought (11, 6, 379); and, in demon- strating the ‘Singuliere ineptie de nostre siecle’ (I, 51, 307), he deduces the inappropriateness of using the adjective ‘divin’at all in modern times. In such arguments, the ancient world becomes an absolute measure of perfection. Thus Montaigne writes of ‘la puret6 de son [Cato’s] siecle (11, 8, 394) and its distance from his own, and he posits ‘la perfection ancienne’ as the barometer against which contemporary writing must be judged. His use of Roman examples, though frequent,I9 is neither con- ventional nor uncritical.’’ On the topic of Rome’s power, for example, Montaigne avoids developing his ideas when we might expect him to do so. In the Apologie where he has embarked on a discussion of the simplicity of the mores and of the political structures in ancient Rome, the theme has scarcely been elaborated when it is abandoned: ‘Mais je laisse ce discours qui me tireroit plus loin que je ne voudrais suivre.’ Again in De la Grandeur Romaine (11, 24) where the title promises much, the idea is barely touched in as the essay opens ‘je ne veux dire qu’un mot de cet argument infiny’.’’ Just as he refused to enthuse with his contemporaries over the topography of ancient Rome, he also chose not to repeat established views on Rome’s greatness. Rome conceived as some abstract entity held little interest for Montaigne; he did not share that ideal view of the city as a symbol of power, with its unchanging substance and its divine mission kept intact through the writings of Virgil, Dante, Petrarch and others. It is only when, in De la Vanite‘, he is at the heart of his meditation on the appalling condition of the French state, shaken and undermined by civil war, that Montaigne focuses directly on Rome. Then, the city occupies the central space in his thinking and he remembers earlier reflexions on Rome recorded in the Journal. The ruins of Rome had undoubtedly moved him; but they did not represent the signs of decay and human frailty in the tradition of Vitalis,22they evoked the strange feelings of walking on rooftops with

’’ Examples abound of Montaigne’s constant references to Roman customs: his antagonisms with respect to sacrifices and divination; anecdotal use on the subject of death, clothes, laws, the consul’s place at table, on the burning of hooks, marriage, on thumbs. Priapus, umbrellas, eating, horses. public health, duelling, legal style or the use of pigeons as messengers; political examples with regard to colonies, to public speaking and to valliance. Writers such as Etienne Pasquier, Lettresfamilil.res, ed. D. Thickett (Geneva, 1974), bk 7, p. 91, and Jerome Cardan, Ma Vie (published Paris, 1643), were unimpressed by Rome, as were a number of protestant writers, among them Louis Des Masures, Babylone ou La Ruine de la grande citd (Geneva, 1563). ” Andre Tournon should he consulted on Montaigne’s continual adjustments to his argument. Montaigne, la glo512 et l’fisai (Lyon, 1983); see also my Montaigne’s Deceits (London, 1974), and Michel Bideaux, ‘La description dans le Journal de Voyage de Montaigne’, in Etudes sezri2rnzsteJ offeTts b V. L. Saulnier (Geneva, 1980), 405-22. ” See the articles of Raymond Skyme, ’Buscas en Roma a Roma: Quevedo, Vitalis, and Janus Pannonius’, Bib1 Hum R, 44, no. 2 (1982), 363-8, and of George Tucker, ‘Sur les Elogia (1553) de Montaigne’s vision of Rome 399 several generations of house-building packed up below - ‘en plusieurs endroits nous marchions sur le feste des maisons toutes entisres’ (p. 95). The very walls are revealed by the constant drip of rain or the wearing away made by carriage wheels - ‘on marche sur la teste des vieus murs que la pluye et les coches decouvrent’ (p. 95); and there are undertones of association, re-seeing the shattered frames of churches vandalised by the protest ant^.'^ Above all, however, the ruins spoke of their power of survival. At the time when Montaigne visited Rome, he believed France to be on the edge of total collapse, and it was the thought of Rome’s power of survival, represented by those ruins which he visited every day, which encouraged him to hope that perhaps his view of France was wrong. Tout ce qui branle ne tombe pas. La contexture dun si grand corps tient 2 plus d’un clou. I1 tient mesme par son antiquid; comme les vieux bastiments ausquels l’aage a desrobC; le pied, sans crouste et sans cyment, qui pourtant vivent et se soustiennent en leur propre poix (111, 9, 960). Here, crumbling ruins are not depicted as tombs that have buried their dead, but as survivors. They are the living, ambiguous signs of defiance and of grandeur, of defeat and human vanity. But, most of all, they are survivors, and - as such - offer some solace. It was a commonplace to regard Rome and its empire as exemplary: that is to say, both as a model to follow and as one to flee. Examples abound at this time: Michel de l’H8pital used Rome and its empire in his Traite’ de la Reformation de la Justice to elaborate his ideas on the rise and fall of states and to encourage sympathy for his own reforming ideas: Pour le ve‘rifier, tout homme de bons sens s’advouera franchement qu’il n’est pas possible de prendre ung plus beau ny plus grand exemplaire que sur l’empire romain qui a estC le plus puissant, le plus florissant en armes, en loys et en justice que nu1 aultre~.’~ Conversely, Rene‘ de Lucinge, writing on the same theme, used Rome to spell out how the decay of states starts from within: ‘les grands empires se consument et subvertissent ordinairement par les causes interieures’. ” Other writers used Rome and its captains to offer lessons. Michel Hurault often cited their example to alert his fellow countrymen to the dangers of

Janus Vitalis et les Antiquitez de Rome de Joachim du Bellay’s, ibzd. 47, no. 1 (1985), 103-12, and ‘Le portrait de Rome chez Pannonius et Vitalis: une mise au point’, ibid. 48, no. 3 (1986), 751-6. *’The comparison is discussed by Pertile, art. cit., p. 640 and by Michel Hermann, in F. Moureau and R. Bernoulli, Autour duJournal de Voyage de Montaigne 1580-1980 (Geneva and Paris, 1982), 38-42. The image of the birds with the ruins had already been used by Pius 11: see Ruth Rubenstein, ‘Pius I1 and Roman ruins’, Renaiss Stud, 2, no. 2 (1988), 198. ’‘ Michel de l’Hdpita1, Oeuvres, ed. P. S. J. DuMy (5 vols, Paris, 1824-6), IV, pt 4, p. 235; and v, pt 6, p. 221. ’’ RenC de Lucinge, De la naissance, &vie et cheute des estats (Paris, 1588) (ed. M. Heath, 1984, p. 197). 400 Margaret McGowan the ambitious duc de Guise;26the lawyer, Pierre de la Place saw Rome’s destruction as stemming directly from the sale of offices and warned Charles IX accordingly;” while Antoine Caron, in Le Massacre du Triumvirat, drew explicit parallels between the massacres ordered in 43 BC and the activities of the Triumvirat at Fontainebleau in 1561.28 Montaigne’s approach was less political and more philosophical. It was the completeness of Rome’s exemplary nature that had impressed him. Rome’s destiny had embraced and anticipated all possible forms of government; it had shown every aspect of success and failure; and it had experienced all the accidents of Fortune - both good and ill. Les astres ont fatalement destine l’estat de Romme pour exemplaire de ce qu’ils peuvent en ce genre. I1 comprend en soy toutes les formes et avantures qui touchent un estat: tout ce que l’ordre y peut et le trouble, et l’heur et le malheur (111, 9, 960). Montaigne’s satisfaction was principally derived not from drawing parallels or contrasts between his own times and those he read about in histories of ancient Rome which the sight of ruins recalled, but by absorbing himself entirely in thinking about ‘cette vieille Romme, libre, juste et florissante [qui] m’intkresse et me passionne’ (111, 9, 996-7). The words are emotive ones, as is to be expected from a writer who declared himself in the same passage as besotted - ‘embabouynk’ - by the idea of a free Rome, an abstraction which he soon abandons, or rather transforms and individualizes in the name of Brutus or P~mpey.~~Because Pompey and Brutus symbolized political freedom, Montaigne made special efforts to defend their cause, although he regretted that Brutus’ suicide had destroyed the fragile relics of civil liberty (11, 3, 355) and that Pompey’s personal flaws had driven him to encounters with Caesar that were fatal both to himself and to the state (111, 10, 1018).30The elder Cat0

26 ‘Et ie tiens pour maxime trescertaine, que le Duc de Guyse nostre capitale adversaire est desja si avant qu’il fault qu’il soit ou Roy ou ruynC: il n’y a point de milieu pour lung entre ces deux ex- tremes. Marius, Cinna, Pompee, L.epide, Antoyne font foy de cela. Despuis qu’une fois on a aspire i la Tyrannie. Aut Caesar aut nihil.’ Discours sur l’estat de France (n.p., 1588), sip FI-Fl”. 21 # Et ne faut estimer que l’entiere destruction et ruine de la repuhlique de Rome, sur toutes autres qui oncques furent, excellente et renommee, ait pris son commencement dailleurs que de ceste marchandise et traffique d’estatz et offices . . .’ Traztti de la Vocation et maniere de mure h laquelle chacun est appelli (Paris, 1561), 44. For the precise political application of Caron’s paintings, see G. Lebel, ‘Nouvelles prkisions sur Antoine Caron’, 1’Amou.rATt, 19 (1938), 271-80. ’’ It is interesting that Montaigne does not relate his notion of free Rome to the city’s institutions of which he had a poor view. Most references in the Essais to the Roman Senate are uncomplimen- tary: for example, 111, 1, 800 and 111, 7, 919; the Roman people are condemned for their cowardice in the sole specific reference to them (I, 16, 70); and even the army, complimented on its early d’iscipline .‘ (11, 9, 405), is criticized for not sustaining its original virtue (11, 34, 741). I” Montaigne is consistent in his repeated and detailed references to the civil struggle between these two able commanders, and he criticized those ancient writers who did not share his view of the rightness of Pompey’s cause. Dion the historian is deficient for having supported the cause of Caesar (11, 32, 722) while Seneca - even he - is chastised for having underestimated Pompey (111, 8, 941). Montaigne’s vision of Rome 40 1 particularly enshrined Roman Libertus, and Montaigne viewed this figure as a symbol of a Rome at the height of its perfection and he referred to the man as a constant and automatic point of reference for human achieve- ment. ‘On void bien l clair que c’est une alleure tendue bien loing au dessus des communes’, he writes (111, 12, 1037-8); and here, he is thinking of Cato’s self-reliance (I, 39, 247-8); his constancy (I, 44, 271-2); and his adherence to the laws of his country in times of adversity (I, 23, 122 - 3). Montaigne’s emotional attachment to a free Rome was such that it materially affected his judgement of Julius Caesar whom initially he had found irresistible, admiring ‘la grandeur incomparable de cette ttme’ (11, 33, 732), and ‘le miracle de sa grandeur’ (11, 10, 416). Both expressions appeal to incredulity, and both suggest that some factor other than human agency played a role in Caesar’s remarkable career. Montaigne’s complex and ambiguous views of Caesar were conditioned by diverse in- fluences: perhaps through his performances in Muret’s play Jules Cksar; or by his reading of Lucan’s antagonistic characterization in the Phar- salk3’ Again, Montaigne may have been thinking about other views as unsteady as his own: those of Petrarch who first saw Caesar as a tyrant but who later, in his Letters, modified this harsh view; or of Machiavelli who admired the military commander while deploring the dreadful conse- quences of Caesar’s dictatorship. The strength of Machiavelli’s feeling is worth recording here since it spells out effects that Montaigne merely implies: Se considererl, dipoi, tritamente i tempi degli altri imperadori, gli vedrP atroci per le guerre, discordi per le sedizioni, nella pace e nella guerra crudeli: tanti principi morti col ferro, tante guerre civili, tante esterne; 1’Italia afflitta, e plena di nuovi infortunii; rovinate e saccheg- giate le cittadi di quella. Vedrl Roma arsa, il Campidoglio da’suoi cit- tadini disfatto, desolati gli antichi templi, corrotte le cerimonie, ripiene le cittl di adulterii: vedrs il mare pieno di esilii, gli scogli pieni di sangue. VedrP in Roma seguire innumerabili crudeltadi; e la nobilits, le richezze, i passati onori, e sopra tutto la virtii, essere im- putate a peccato capitale. VedrP premiare gli calunniatori, essere corrotti i servi contro a1 signore, i liberti contro a1 padrone; e quelli a chi fussero mancati inimici, essere oppressi dagli amici. E conoscerP allora benissimo quanti oblighi Roma, l’Italia, e il mondo, abbia con Cesare. 32

’I Montaigne declared an early preference for Lucan: ‘J‘ayme aussi Lucain, et le practique volontiers: non tant pour son stile que pour sa valeur propre et veritC de ses opinions et jugemens’ (11, 10, 410-1). ” DiScorsi (I, lo), Tutte le Opere (Florence, 1929), 75. For most recent comment on Renaissance attitudes to Caesar, see the volume of essays Prbence de Cisusar, ed. R. Chevallier (Tours, 1985), especially pp. 25-245. 402 Margaret McGowan Caesar’s military genius which had added to Rome’s reputation and extended the Empire, Montaigne extolled without reserve, noting his incomparable skills, his intelligent anticipation, his vigilance, his daring pursuit of danger and the favours which Fortune granted (11, 16, 622, 628; 11, 34, 736-43). Caesar’s personal qualities, too, he detailed almost lovingly: his eloquence, patience, generosity, clemency and sobriety (11, 33, 729-33). His style and his method were also admirable, and Mon- taigne praised the refinement of the language, accuracy of reporting and acumen in the judgements displayed (11, 10, 416; 11, 17, 638). Yet all this was as nought when weighed against the damage which Caesar did to Rome through his overpowering vanity (11, 13, 606), and through his pestilential ambition, which brought tyranny to the state, removed civil liberties and introduced the notion that one could buy power (I, 14, 63).33 Montaigne’s words are unequivocal: ambition changed the most remarkable nature - ‘le plus beau et le plus riche nature1 qui fut oncques’ - into a public thief; and a rendu sa memoire abominable B tous les gens de bien, pour avoir voulu chercher sa gloire de la ruyne de son pays et subversion de la plus puissante et fleurissante chose publique que le monde verra jamais. (11, 33, 733) In Montaigne’s eyes, the state of Rome was never more beautiful than at the moment when Caesar’s greed toppled Freedom from her throne. Caesar’s death, and his blood-stained toga - ‘la robe de Caesar troubla toute Romme, ce que sa mort n’avoit pas faict’ (111, 4, 837) - served as po- tent signs of personal and public ruin that engulfed not only the republic of Rome but the entire world: ‘la ruyne de son pays et l’empirement universe1 du monde’, as Montaigne writes elsewhere (11, 36, 755). His killers had started a process that could not be stopped and which extended into Montaigne’s own time: ‘A plusieurs depuis, jusques a nos si&cles,il est advenu de mesmes. Les Francais mes contemporan6es sca- vent bien qu’en dire’ (111, 9, 958). As we have seen, Roman ruins were for Montaigne (as they had been for Du Bellay) ambiguous signs. Equally ambivalent was his attitude to another pervasive image that seemed, in the Renaissance, to epitomize Rome. Triumphs, gladiatorial shows, chariot races and naumachia, Montaigne recognized these as empty and vain productions, yet he praised the inventiveness and ingenuity of the skills which had made them so dazzling. Montaigne’s attraction to Roman spectacle has not often been noticed,34although, in the Essazj, he conjured up scenes of triumph and spectacular shows in unusual detail. In Des Coches, for example, he takes

’’ ‘Caesar s’endebta dun million d’or outre son vaillant pour devenir Caesar’ (I, 14, 63). j4 To my knowledge, Gralde Nakam is the first critic to have emphasized Montaigne’s interest in Roman spectacle: Montazgne, tdrnoin de son temps (Paris, 1980), 347. Montaigne’s vision of Rome 40 3 for granted his contemporaries’knowledge of the usual features of a royal or imperial triumph,35and dwells instead on the singular and exotic ac- companiments introduced by Roman generals and emperors, before he moves to some devastating general criticism of sixteenth-century parallels. Mark Anthony, he tells us, paraded a singing prostitute in a chariot drawn by lions; Heliogabalus had his car pulled by tigers and filled with many naked women; and emperor Firmus regaled the crowds with flying ostriches. 36 Then comes the sharp message for his contemporaries: C’est une espece de pusinallimit6 aux monarques, et un tesmoignage de ne sentir point assez ce qu’ils sont, de travailler P se faire valloir et paroistre par despenses excessives. Ce seroit chose excusable en pays estranger: mais, parmy ses subjects, oh il peut tout, il tire de sa dignite‘ le plus extreme degr6 d’honneur oh il puisse arriver (111, 9, 902). Montaigne has moved from emperor to monarch, and the acid comment directed against sixteenth-century French kings was peculiarly appro- priate. Since the time of Henri 11, they had consistently sought to bolster their image by external splendour, the elements of which were consciously imitated from the features of imperial triumphs. When Henri I1 had en- tered Rouen in 1550, for example, the authors of the spectacle described the event as ‘2l’immitation expresse des Romains triumphateurs’, while the official record of the entry was stiff with the newly acquired preten- tious jargon of the contemporary French amateur architect - the words which had been ridiculed in De la vanite‘ des paroles. Montaigne’s criticism was even sharper when he juxtaposed Roman gladiators and sixteenth-century mercenaries. In Des mauvais moyens employez h bonne fin (11, 23), the link which binds them is what Mon- taigne regards as the wondrous nature of both trades. He is puzzled by the fact that innocent slaves and even Roman freedmen were prepared to sell themselves to become gladiators, for the sole purposes of dying in order to satisfy the greed of the populous and the ambition of their new master. Yet, Montaigne argues, their case is not strange, nor are their actions beyond reason if we reflect that their modern counterparts (mercenaries) abound in large numbers in order to fulfil aims just as questionable. Montaigne asserts: ‘Je trouverois fort estrange et incroyable si nous n’es- tions accoustumez de [les] voir.’ Des mauvais moyens employez it bonne fin had begun by associating mercenaries and gladiators apparently in order to explain and justify a curious practice from the past; but then the association itself had generated new ideas or a different purpose, for the

’’ See I. D. McFarlane, L’Entrie de Henri II a Puns, 1549, ed. Binghampton (New York, 1982); W. McAllister Johnson and Victor E. Graham, The Royal Tour (Toronto, 1979); and Margaret M. McCowan, L’EntrCe de Henn’ II a Rouen, 1550, ed. Binghampton (New York, 1982), l6 Montaigne has, in fact, misread his source Petrus Crinitus, De honestu dtjciplinu (1st edition, Florence, 1504); he should have attributed the exotic animals to Aurelius: see the parallel texts printed by Villey, Sources I, 118-19. 404 Margaret McGowan essay ends by throwing into relief the unacceptable nature of the activities of both parts of the parallel. Contrary to the Renaissance spirit that sought to emulate the splendour of Roman emperors who were often perceived rather indiscrimi- nately as embodying all the grandeur that was Rome, Montaigne, unimpressed, gave little commendation to their regimes and to their persons. If he mentions them at all in the Essais he tended to write of their private cruelties, or to involve them in the general debunking arguments of the Apologie which showed them no better and no worse than men of humbler status. Even of the great Augustus - admired by Michel de 1’H6pital3’(among others) as a remarkably just ruler and who was pro- minently displayed in all French shows of imperial pretensions3’ - Mon- taigne provides a subdued account. It is full of minor and inconsequential details, remarking on the emperor’s extraordinary shiftiness and in- constancy, praising his stinginess with respect to honorific titles, and criticizing the quantity of statues dedicated to him which, in number, outdid those erected to Jupiter. The most extended passage on Augustus in Divers Evenemens de mesme conseil discusses his clemency towards Cinna; yet, here again, the impact of such a generous decision is deflated by offering as explanation that force which controlled all human destiny - the Goddess Fortuna. Despite evident misgivings, Montaigne was not at all insensitive to the appeal of Roman spectaculars, and he had responded in the same double and contradictory way as many visitors to Rome. Jean Tarde, for example, on his second visit to Rome in 1614 stood amid the ruins of the Coliseum and, as he reconstituted in his imagination the original building, its first audiences and its scenes he was both amazed and ap- palled at what he saw: Etant sur ces ruines, nous nous sommes repr6sent6s ce thefitre en sa perfection bien couvert de peur du chaud; les trois ordres des senateurs, chevaliers et plebe‘iens assis jusques aud. nombre [octante cinq mille hommes]; les gladiateurs, les bCtes farouches et les pauvres chretiens qui y etaient expose‘s pour soutenir la foi chrAienne et pour donner du plaisir 2 ce peuple non moins superstitieux que cruel.39 For his part, in Des Coches, having set aside strictures about ex- travagance, Montaigne dwells almost lyrically on the glories of the scenes played out in ancient Roman arenas. With an abundance of detail gleaned from Justus Lipsius’ recently published De Amphiteatro and reinforced

’’ Michel de l’H8pita1, Oeumes, IV, 5, 23-4, and 155. See my Ideal Forms, op. cit., for a discussion of French imperialist pretensions. 39 Voyage, MS Bibliotheque Nationale, PCrigord, 106, published by Francois Moureau, A la Ten- contre de Galilie: deux voyages en Italie (Geneva, 1984), 74. Tarde had first been to Rome in 1593. Montaigne’s vision of Rome 405 by unusually specific reference to Calpurnius Eglogue VII (De amphiteatro Carini), Montaigne did not try to conceal his enthusiasm. An arena planted with trees in perfect symmetry, ‘C’est une belle chose’ (111, 6, 905), he writes, marvelling at the numbers of rare animals slaughtered for the citizens’ entertainment, at the 300 participants who fought in pairs and killed themselves, and at the size of the crowd. The tone is not ironic, as one might expect. On the contrary, Montaigne has copied his ancient sources faith full^.^' Although admiration is rare in the Essab, in Des Coches, it is elaborated in detail. Here, Roman amphitheatres are evoked: c’estoit aussi belle chose B voir ces grands amphitheatres encroustez de marbre au dehors, labour6 douvrages et statues, le dedans reluisant de plusieurs rares enrichissemens. Balthew en gemmis, en illita porticus auro; tous les coustez de ce grand vuide remplis et environnez, depuis le fons jusques au comble, de soixante ou quattre vingts rangs d’eschelons, aussi de marbre, couvers de carreaus. (111, 6, 905) The description goes on glowingly, detailing the proportions of the place and the skill of its structure with particular attention given to those immense silk and golden nets woven to protect the crowd against inclement weather or ferocious beasts: Autrefois, du bas de cette place, ils faisoyent eslancer des surgeons et filets d’eau qui rejailissoyent contremont, et, B cette hauteur infinie, alloyent arrousant et embausmant cette infinie multitude. The style is equally lyrical when Montaigne reflects on the ingenious mechanisms devised for the Roman arena, which allowed huge chasms suddenly to be opened up at ground level, or which inundated the whole space to support armed vessels for a naumachia, and which then subse- quently dried the ground in time for the ritual banquet. Montaigne’s appreciation of such shows was not confined to his experience of them in books. In Rome, he had made special arrangements to ensure that he had good sight of every festival. At mardigras, he had a scaffold erected at his own expense in order to be ‘assis en tres beau endret de la rue’, while the Thursday following, he attended a banquet and the nocturnal barriers in the amphitheatre built for the purpose within the precincts of the Castello San Ange10.~’On his journey home in 1581, he had enjoyed a chariot race in Florence which reminded him of ancient Roman games:

‘’ Montaigne’s principal borrowings from Lipsius come from the chapter which draws together texts describing the transformations within the arena during performances: chapter XI1 which discusses the composition of the amphitheatre; and chapter XVII where Martial is cited to explain the safety mechanisms which were introduced to protect the crowd and the richness of the materials used. “ JOUnuCl, 108-9. 406 Margaret McCowan Ce spectacle me fit plus de plaisir qu’aucun de ceux que j’eusse vus en Italie, par la resemblance que j’y trouvois avec les courses antique^.^' The reverberative power of place played a significant part in Mon- taigne’s contact with Rome. What is most remembered from Des Coches is the sustained parallel Montaigne drew between the magnificance of the Old World and of the New, and not his appreciation of Roman spectacle. In his scales of measurement, the New World weighed heavier because the acres of gold, the profusion of other metals and the public display of precious stones were shows of no value to the inhabitants. Whereas in contrast, Rome’s balance is lighter, for Rome knowingly promoted dazzle, enjoyed profusion and loved magnificence. However, despite those weightings and despite the fact that Montaigne’s argument tends to favour the naturalness of the New World, his fervour is distinctly located in the Old. In Des Coches he offers, ungrudgingly, an eloquent evocation of ancient Rome in celebration; although, in rounding off his glowing account, he is - as ever - conscious of a need for justification: s’il y a quelquechose qui soit excusable en tels excez, c’est oti I’invention et la nouveaute fournit d’admiration, non pas la despence. (111, 6, 907) Complex processes of association and dissociation are characteristic of the Essak. Through them, Montaigne holds more than one idea, source or feeling in play at any one time. While he recognized that models taken from ancient Rome might be deficient either because they were ‘trop reculees’ (as Lucinge termed them), or because they could not express adequately an idea or a feeling (those sentiments he had had for La Boetie, for example I, 28, 192), Montaigne automatically applies such models in his writing, more often than not contrasting them with his own times.43There are moments, however, where association - the drawing together and even the infiltration of others’ texts into his own (only sometimes acknowledged by M~ntaigne)~~- is transformed into something more akin to appropriation. There are other moments, too, when Montaigne’s daily experience is invaded by memories of the past, and the double experience is fused. All these moments (and they are often momentary and elusive) seem to occur less when Montaigne is concerned to prove a point, and more when he is anxious to tell us about himself. The shift from association to familiarity and appropriation is particularly instructive with respect to Rome: ‘Je ne scauroy revoir si souvent le tombeau de cette ville, si grande et si puissante, que je ne l’admire et

‘’ Ibid. 188. Two days later, Montaigne enjoyed the Feast of St John when all the towns dependent upon Florence processed with their wagons through the streets of the city.

43 I have written elsewhere on Montaigne’s frequent use of dissociation, and will concentrate here on the play of association; see ‘Montaigne’s self - au rebours’, in Moy qui me uoy, ed. Craig and McCowan (Oxford, 1989), 1-18. d4 See Mary McKinley, Words in a Corner (Lexington, Ky, 1981). Montaigne’s vision of Rome 40 7 revere.’ This statement from De la Vanite‘introduces a prolonged meditation on Rome. First the question of familarity is raised. Nourished since childhood in the affairs of Rome, Montaigne had acquired a detailed knowledge of that city long before he knew anything about Paris: ‘Je scavois le Capitole et son plant avant que je sceusse le Louvre, et le Tibre avant la Seine.’ The lives and fortunes of Roman heroes such as Lucullus, Metellus and Scipio were more familiar to him that those of Frenchmen. These Roman heroes, like his father buried these eighteen years, are dead; but, as with his father, he still cherishes them and treats them as though they were alive: ‘Je ne laisse pas d’embrasser et practiquer la memoire, l’amitie et socie‘te‘, d’une parfaite union et tr2s vive.’ These Romans have become close; they compose part of Montaigne’s charmed circle; in short, they are his friends. In De la Vanite‘, in a way that is perhaps understandable in the midst of cruelty and war, Montaigne has reversed ordinary notions of distance and proximity, and he has muddled notions of time, writing after his journey to Rome as though he were still planning it. To Roman figures that are dead he gives a presence that is more substantial than the shadows and fancies of the actual present: of Roman connections, Mon- taigne claimed that ‘cette accointance dure encore entre nous’; whereas present affairs are dismissed with ‘les choses presentes mesmes, nous ies tenons que par la fantaisie’. Thus a certain thinness characterizes the present, and the space left is occupied by a passionate and circumstantial resurrection of Rome - its roads, its houses and its ruins ‘profondes jusques aux Antipodes’; Me trouvant inutile 2 ce siPcle, je me reject, 2 cet autre, et en suis si embabouyne‘ que l’estat de cette vieille Romme libre, juste et florissante . . . m’interesse et me passionne. Parquoy je ne scauroy revoir si souvent l’assiette de leurs rues et de leurs maisons et ces ruynes profondes jusques aux Antipodes, que je ne m’y amuse (111, 9, 996-7). Since he was so long prepared by the constant commerce of reading and by the lively work of his imagination, one wonders what was the nature of the excitement Montaigne felt when he first set foot in Rome. We know from the Journal that the eagerness to walk the streets of Rome increased as he approached the city. We know, too, from the Essati, that when he was in Rome, inspired by Cicero, he responded keenly to the evocative power of Place. In De la Vanite‘he posed this question: how is it that places and buildings haunted by the people who lived in them, move us more than either their deeds or their writings? The place - Rome - brings back their gait, their clothes and their very names which ring in Montaigne’s ear and clatter through his teeth. Es-ce par nature ou par erreur de fantaisie que la veue des places que nous scavons avoir este‘ hante‘es et habite‘es par personnes desquelles 408 Margaret McGo wan la memoire est en recommendation, nous esmeut aucunement plus qu’ouir le r6cit de leurs faicts ou lire leurs escrits? Tanta ms admoni- tionis inest in locis. Et id quidem in hac urbe infinitum: quacunque enim ingredimur in aliquam historiam vestigium ponimus. I1 we plaist de considerer leur visage, leur port et leurs vestements. Je remache ces grands noms entre les dents et les faicts retentir P mes oreilles . . . je les visse volontiers deviser, promener et soupper! (HI,9, 997)45 The accent here is on Montaigne’s enjoyment of human presence from the past. Gone are the reminders of man’s frailty which the ruins once brought to his mind and which for other travellers served as a filter. Take the example of Florisel de Clavesol (who had more than once shuddered amid the quiet of ruined monuments).46Returning to Rome from Tivoli in 1608, he recalled that human presence from the past which he related specifically to the inconstant nature of earthly things: retournant 2 Rome voyant ceste campagne, remplie d’antiennes et vieilles tours, voysines ung mille ou plus les unes des autres, me fust dict qu’en icelles jadis estoient sentinelles et corps de gardes, respondants les uns aux aultres, esquels du temps et regne des Anciens Empereurs Romains, falloit arraisonner auparavant qu’aborder leurs Majest&, et mestonnois grandement quand ie considerois sur tant de ruines, le changement des choses de ce monde inconstant et fragille (fol. 29). By contrast, Montaigne in his evocation of the past seeks to sustain a more satisfactory fusion with his experience of the present. Although the cur- rent dilapidated reality of the images and relics reassert themselves, Mon- taigne clings to the idea that these are beings whose lives and death he has personally witnessed - ‘les reliques et images de tant d’honnestes hommes, et si valeureux, que j’ay veu vivre et mourir’. The pull of the Rome he had visited in reading is stronger than the actual experience of seeing the city, and it went some way to satisfying Mon- taigne’s quest for companionship. Nevertheless, in the Essais, he did not ignore the sights he had witnessed and which all can still see: ceste mesme Romme que nous voyons merite qu’on l’ayme . . . seule ville commune et universelle . . . I1 n’est lieu GP bas que le ciel ayt em- brass6 avec telle influence de faveur et telle Constance. Sa ruyne mesme est glorieuse et enflee Laudandis preciosior ruinis. Encore retient elle au tombeau des marques et image d’empire. (111, 9, 997) It will be evident that here Montaigne’s vision has changed somewhat from that which had been projected in the Journal. Rome is meritorious,

‘’ Francois Rigolot has noted how Montaigne’s return from Rome brought a return to Cicero: ‘Les incipit des Essazj, structure et 6volution’, in Actes de Bordeaux, 1580, ed. Michel, 247-60. ‘‘ Florisel de Claveson, sieur de Mercurol, went to Rome in the entourage of the Duke de Nevers. His account of his journey may be found in the Bibliotheque Nationale, Clairambault 1006; see especially his account of a visit to the catacombs located beside the Coliseum, fol. 49. Montaigne’s vision of Rome 409 a city for all people and favoured by the Heavens; while the ruins, far from evoking human vanity and loss, are seen here as a measure of Rome’s greatness. These unambiguous statements are badly asserted just before Mon- taigne announced his pleasure at being granted the Roman citizenship which he had sought so determinedly, and they help to explain his delight: ‘n’estant bourgeois daucune ville, je suis bien aise de l’estre de la plus noble qui fut et qui sera onques’. According to Lacroix du Maine such an honour was indeed as difficult to obtain as Montaigne had found it. Writing about Muret, du Maine c~mmented:~~ Marc Antoine de Muret . . . citoyen de Rome (qui n’est pas un petit honneur, car cela n’est donne qu’8 ceux qui meritent beaucoup, come auparavant luy, avoit este Chrestofle de Longueil dit Longolius, et de recente memoire Hubertus Goltzius si excellent rechercheur de l’antiquite). 48 If Du Maine is right about its rarity, then it is understandable why Mon- taigne cherished the title of citizen of Rome as well as its privileges, though they were ‘pleins dinanid et de fadaise’. He was sensitive to the pleasure they gave him which he acknowledged and justified with the words: ‘Quelqu’un se blasmeroit et se mutineroit en soy-mesme, de se sentir chatouiller d’un si vain plaisir. Nos humeurs ne sont pas trop vaines, qui sont plaisantes.’ Like the ruins of Rome, they were for Montaigne precious pointers to the best that human kind had achieved however vain that might be. This same double perspective framed Montaigne’s longer vision of Rome. For him, the place was unique. In seeing the city both as the epitome of glamour and of human vanity, Montaigne was extending an ambivalent view which had been established in human consciousness since at least the middle of the sixteenth century especially through the influence of Du Bellay. In drawing parallels between Roman civil wars, between the city’s resistance to decay and the parlous state of France, he was exploring ideas which many thoughtful contemporaries shared. Frequently, however, his vision is his own: nourished by anger at Caesar’s forfeit of his natural gifts and by his own needs for intellectual companionship. The fusion of reading and seeing brought more positive thoughts and a modified view of Roman remains - though that changed picture is still placed within a frame labelled De la Vanite‘. University of Sussex

” La BibliothBque (Paris, 1584). Ibid. 305.