One thing that rings true throughout Montaigne’s essays is his sincerity. When he has mixed feelings about a subject, he finds a way to offer counterpoints. But this essay displays Montaigne in a very unusual place: stating a very strong opinion about sorrow that, given all the storytelling that follows, feels hard to believe.
He states quite emphatically in the opening paragraphs how he has no respect for sorrow and dislikes cultures that find special meaning in studied sadness. But his vignettes fight with him effectively, detailing situations where it would be inhuman to react with anything but overwhelming grief.
A little more than halfway through the essay, Montaigne abruptly shifts his focus to amorous desire and the overwhelming passions it can unleash. Again, he claims to not be subject to these feelings, but also seems hard to believe, given some of the first hand testimony offered.
One consistency throughout Montaigne’s essays that begins here and holds up throughout his journey is his absolute refusal to discuss his love affairs. We will see later in the Friendship essay that Montaigne had no difficulty discussing his close friendships in the warmest manner imaginable. But never in the essays does he claim to have fallen in love or experienced anything other than sexual desire in a relationship. This is true despite his liberal use of sources like Ovid who write about little else.
Reading between the lines, I believe it would be reasonable to conclude that Montaigne lost his mind in love affairs as least as often as he experienced the deep grief detailed in this essay.
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