This essay closes Montaigne’s first volume, and it’s another about death. I have to admit, his death discussions make me uncomfortable. Death scarred him. The clocks tick for us all. To be alive and aware is to notice them.
I want to take on his thoughts vigorously, but I almost feel like I’d be tempting fate to disagree with Montaigne’s conclusions about how we all need to be prepared to go at any minute. My father had his first heart attack when he was only 49 years old. He was never quite the same after it; it felt like he entered a glide path towards death and when he finally passed 18 years later (not from heart disease, but a rare blood-bourne cancer) it seemed like a relief to him. I never understood his mindset on that.
I recognize that I, like any human, could go at any minute. I could get into a car accident or hit by a stray bullet at any time. There could be something wrong going on inside of me that’s hidden from sight. But I also want to fight against this notion that my life is drawing to a close, because I don’t feel that way at all.
But having said all of this, I realize how quickly this could all slip away and I try to keep the hubris at arm’s length. Montaigne was bothered by something else: he didn’t accomplish much as a young man and felt like he was always trying to catch up:
Of all the fair deeds of men in ancient times and in our own which have come to my knowledge, of whatever kind they may be, I think it would take me longer to enumerate those which were made manifest before the age of thirty than after. Yes, and often in the lives of the very same men: may I not say that with total certainty in the case of Hannibal and his great adversary Scipio? They lived a good half of their lives on the glory achieved in their youth: they were great men later compared with others, but not great compared with themselves.
Montaigne took some solace in the possibility to passing on his talents to others as he grew older:
It may well be that (for those who make good use of their time) knowledge and experience grow with the years but vitality, quickness, firmness and other qualities which are more truly our own, and more important, more ours by their essence, droop and fade.
But what if they don’t droop and fade? Why can’t we challenge the assumptions of our culture and continue to take on new challenges throughout life? Could it be that we flame out and fade away so easily as we age because we give in to these soft prejudices?
Montaigne is not applying stoic thought to aging, that the mastery he talks about regarding dealing with emotional health could just as readily apply to matters of physical health.
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