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In his essay "Of the Rewards of Honour", Montaigne discourses on the "vain and in themselves valueless distinctions to honour and recompense virtue" that governments have instituted over the centuries: crowns of laurel, special uniforms, privileged seating, names, titles, coats of arms, and the like. Most commonly, these rewards of honor are used to encourage military valor among the citizenry. Montaigne then goes on to say:
There is no virtue that so easily spreads as that of military valour. There is another virtue, true, perfect, and philosophical, of which I do not speak, and only make use of the word in our common acceptation, much greater than this and more full, which is a force and assurance of the soul, equally despising all sorts of adverse accidents, equable, uniform, and constant, of which ours [i.e., military valor] is no more than one little ray.
Because Montaigne declines to speak at length about this "other virtue" (at least here), we must guess at what it is.
First, I'll note one potential point of confusion. Above I quote from the old translation by Charles Cotton, first made in the 17th century. In Donald Frame's highly acclaimed translation from the 1950s, he renders "another virtue" as "another valor"; however, I don't see that in the French: Montaigne simply says "there is another" - il y en a une autre - which as far as I can tell refers to the generic class of virtue rather than to the specific virtue of valor.
As much as I like the suggestion of "philosophical valor" (which I suppose would be intellectual honesty scrupulously applied to oneself), the equanimity or self-possession at which Montaigne gestures here likely has a more prosaic source: the multifarious ancient Greek virtue of σωφροσύνη, typically rendered as moderation. Consider, for example, Book III of Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics: after treating at length the topic of courage (which is the greatest human virtue in times of war), Aristotle immediately turns to the topic of moderation (which is, along with justice, the greatest human virtue in times of peace).
Here again Montaigne brings his insights to bear most directly on himself, in that he strives to cultivate inner peace, a certain detachment from the vicissitudes of life, and the kind of constancy that avoids becoming puffed up about successes or crestfallen about misfortunes. Not that this "force and assurance of the soul" is easy to achieve, mind you, but it has always been central to the normative ideal of the sage and to philosophy as a way of life.
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
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In Montaigne's essay "Use Makes Perfect" or "Of Practice", he recounts at some length a brush with death he experienced because of a horse-riding accident. He then offers some remarkable reflections on his practice of personalism:
This long story of so light an accident would appear vain enough, were it not for the knowledge I have gained by it for my own use; for I do really find, that to get acquainted with death, needs no more but nearly to approach it. Every one, as Pliny says, is a good doctrine to himself, provided he be capable of discovering himself near at hand. Here, this is not my doctrine, 'tis my study; and is not the lesson of another, but my own; and if I communicate it, it ought not to be ill taken, for that which is of use to me, may also, peradventure, be useful to another.... We hear but of two or three of the ancients, who have beaten this path, and yet I cannot say if it was after this manner, knowing no more of them but their names. No one since has followed the track: 'tis a rugged road, more so than it seems, to follow a pace so rambling and uncertain, as that of the soul; to penetrate the dark profundities of its intricate internal windings; to choose and lay hold of so many little nimble motions; 'tis a new and extraordinary undertaking, and that withdraws us from the common and most recommended employments of the world. 'Tis now many years since that my thoughts have had no other aim and level than myself, and that I have only pried into and studied myself: or, if I study any other thing, 'tis to apply it to or rather in myself.
Talk about making it personal! Here Montaigne demonstrates that he was one of the first to consistently resist the universalist temptation and put all insights to the test (French "essai") of usefulness to himself. Although I do wonder who his "two or three of the ancients" were, of whom we are left "knowing no more of them but their names" (presumably sages who penned no writings, such as Pyrrho or Diogenes), in the end that's unimportant: what matters is the personal practice of self-understanding and self-improvement. Notice Montaigne's observation that personalism is a more rugged road than universalism: it's easy to pontificate about what everyone should do, but much more difficult to find your own path. Indeed, since universalism is what everyone else is doing, it's one of "the common and most recommended employments of the world", in contrast to the "new and extraordinary undertaking" of personal soulcraft and providing an account of your own way of life.
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
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Following my tradition of posting on or about Public Domain Day, here is a brief report about this year's publishing activity at the Monadnock Valley Press, my website for writings in the public domain.
As expected, 2025 was a light year. The yield was limited to a few essays by Montaigne, George Santayana, and Randolph Bourne; the Histories of Herodotus; the Rhetoric of Aristotle; several dialogues by Xenophon; a lecture by A.E. Housman; a speech by Abraham Lincoln; one letter each by Thomas Jefferson and Mark Twain; one play each by Sophocles and Henrik Ibsen; an epic poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow; Plutarch's Life of Alexander; and a fair number of poems.
On the plus side, since March we've been publishing the Classic Poems newsletter on Substack, whose motto is "A Poem a Day Keeps the Doldrums Away!"
In general the publication roadmap is backing up and it's not clear when I'll have the time and inclination to make faster progress. Not that anyone is pushing me to publish things in a hurry, mind you. That's the beauty of a long-term side project...
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In 2024 I read 95 books; although I didn't think I'd ever top that, in 2025 I somehow managed to read 116 books (more than two a week and almost ten a month). The downside is that for various reasons I didn't write my book on Aristotle, which I thought would absorb most of my energies. Instead I read a bunch of jazz biographies, historical tomes on American culture, some classic American literature, all the ancient Greek tragedies, philosophical treatments of various topics in ethics and aesthetics, and the usual smattering of poetry. Highlights were three original works of philosophy by Walter Kaufmann, three early novels by Willa Cather (my new favorite writer of fiction!), and wide-ranging explorations in music and aesthetics (especially Roger Scruton's Beauty, the collected nonfiction of Albert Murray, and Ellen Dissanayake's ethological analyses of art as a behavior in What Is Art For? and Homo Aestheticus).
What will 2026 bring? Because in the last few months I haven't been emotionally inclined to fiction (these things come and go with me), I expect I'll continue my research into music and aesthetics, which has been informing both my musical compositions and my reflections on artistic creation as a path to wisdom. I'm also excited to report that my best friend and I will soon start a pair reading of the Iliad and Odyssey in ancient Greek, which I'm expecting will be a time-consuming but richly-rewarding endeavor (no doubt focused initially on relearning Greek grammar and vocabulary as well as the subtleties of dactylic hexameter). The Homer project is highly relevant to the epic poem I'm slowly composing about Pyrrho and Alexander the Great, so I might also dive into my huge reading list of related works in history, philosophy, and poetics. Finally, for edification and amusement I'll yet again read the essays of Montaigne, since I've started on them recently with much enjoyment and see no reason to stop.
History
Literature
Music
Philosophy
Various
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In this third and last installment of my Soul Workout, I address the two remaining questions derived from my reading of Eric Hoffer's book The Passionate State of Mind:
I soon discovered that the exercise of trying to answer these two closely-related questions can be quite a challenge; after all, one of the trickiest aspects of self-deception is simultaneously knowing something about oneself yet not wanting to know it to the depth of actually spelling it out.
Thinking it through, I did more squarely face one somewhat unpleasant truth that's been pointed out to me in the past: I can be too nice, sweet, adaptable, accommodating, acquiescent, and what the personality psychologists call agreeable. That might sound like false modesty or humble bragging, but the behavior has produced negative consequences; for instance, in my career days it sometimes prevented me from obtaining salary increases, plum assignments, promotions, recognition for my contributions, and the like. My attitude was always that I would do whatever my employer needed me to do, even if it didn't obviously or immediately advance my career. I happen to have been comfortable with this approach because I accepted the tradeoffs, and in the end I did well enough financially that I was able to retire at age 55; yet I'm also aware that a few of my employers and managers took advantage of this trait to their own benefit. So be it.
Because this exercise is so difficult, I'll likely add it to my soul workout routine and revisit it from time to time. Hopefully no deep, dark secrets will come to the surface...
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
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Continuing my Soul Workout, I've been reflecting on this question: "Am I less tolerant than I could be of other people's behavior and opinions?"
I've been pondering this topic for a long time, partly in reaction to the judgmental attitude that my parents had toward other people. Although in my younger years I too could be quite judgmental, I didn't like that behavior in myself, nor did other people appreciate it! Throughout my adult life I've continually reflected on my interactions with friends, family members, co-workers, neighbors, and the folks I've run across in my day-to-day activities. Although it seems to me that determinism is a fantasy, this practice of observation and reflection has led me over time to an inkling of something akin to fate, in that as a matter of biological inheritance and environmental influence most people don't have that much control over who they are, what they think, and how they behave. Yes, there is some control at the margins, but it's less pervasive and fine-grained than we might think; indeed, the operative word might not be "control" but something closer to guidance or steering of a ship whose underlying direction was set long ago. (Do note that these thoughts are speculative: I don't mean to imply that I have a settled theory about human nature, let alone univeralist prescriptions, because it's a subject of high complexity and likely beyond my ken.)
Putting these reflections into practice - which is what matters, after all - has led me to be more tolerant of other people's behavior and opinions. Do people have control over what they think? If they do - and if you believe that there's one true opinion that all people would hold if only they were smart or wise or knowledgeable or teachable enough - then in my experience it's all too easy to get frustrated or even angry with those who see things a different way. If, on the other hand, you recognize that our human reality is irreducibly complex and that there are many valid if partial perspectives on the human condition, then compassion is a virtue, agreement is overrated, and pluralistic tolerance is not merely a necessary evil but a positive good.
For the most part, the same goes for behavioral differences. Naturally, there are limits. I feel no compassion for dictators, thugs, thieves, or murderers, and I feel no guilt over that lack of compassion. My attitude is similar with regard to backstabbing co-workers, nasty neighbors, abusive relatives, and false friends (yes, I've experienced them all). Beyond a certain point my goodwill fractures and tolerance is replaced by damage control, avoidance, and forgetting (but not forgiving - a topic for another day). However, that's the exception; within the limits of civilized discourse and behavior I find that tolerance is the best policy, and it's one that I've actively put into practice over the years.
(Cross-posted at Beautiful Wisdom.)
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