Given the negativity Montaigne shows orators and writers, I appreciate the point of view he shares at the top of this essay, it’s one I try to use in my work:
I observe the following practice: always to bring those with whom I am talking back to the subjects they know best.
For the reverse usually happens, everyone choosing to orate about another’s job rather than his own, reckoning to increase his reputation by so doing; witness the reproof Archidamus gave to Periander: that he was abandoning an excellent reputation as a good doctor to acquire the reputation of a bad poet.
Much of Montaigne’s essay was devoted to the argument that experts should stick to their areas of expertise. I agree with this point somewhat, although I do believe people should strive to become well rounded and able to converse on a diverse range of topics, otherwise they could become frightful bores talking only about the subjects when they have complete comfort.
His argument also raises an obvious question: why should we care what Montaigne has to write about on the variety of subjects he assays? This matters more in our democratic age. Our collective opinions and values matter – so we would be wise to follow what Montaigne does, not what he says in this particular essay.
I think the answer is that we really shouldn’t pay much attention to Montaigne’s opinions, but should pay close heed to the way he forms them. What’s his process for thinking through an issue, and what factors does he consider, often in the form of quotes and exempla, as counterpoints? But I also think that we live in an age of such hyper-specialization, it’s refreshing to come across anyone who can discuss a wide range of topics intelligently, even if not at an expert level.
Later on in the essay, Montaigne moves on to his unquestioned area of expertise, diplomacy. Montaigne was particularly annoyed by ambassadors who “should have the power to choose what he should tell his sovereign.” In other words, if your job is to keep a ruler informed so he or she can make good decisions, you better have the courage to speak truth to power and the good sense to understand that it’s not your place to make decisions in the ruler’s place:
Under some pretext or other we are always ready to withdraw our obedience and to usurp the mastery. Everyone so naturally aspires to freedom and authority that, to a superior, no quality should be dearer in those who serve him than simple, straightforward obedience.
There are limits to this, of course, best defined by the Nuremberg Trials. A follower who goes along with the evil doings of a leader becomes responsible for that immorality. Montaigne, ever the admirer of the Stoics, might have used Seneca as an example here. (And he will return to Seneca’s story later.) While Seneca’s tutelage of Nero helped the young Emperor rise to power, it was the murder of Nero’s mother – backed by Seneca – that consolidated that power. And while Seneca became the Dick Cheney of his day, ruling Rome while Nero learned on the job, eventually Nero gained enough confidence to inflict his madness on the empire. Seneca fell from favor and eventually committed suicide.
Somehow I doubt that Montaigne would consider straightforward obedience to Nero as a wise or noble act. I believe that it is the duty of any trusted aide to offer moral guidance along with practical advice. If you cannot guide the leader you support towards the light, you are only performing half your work–and could end up supporting great evil if you do it well.
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