What you did know about Montaigne, perhaps, is that he almost certainly pioneered the literary genre we know today as the essay, which comes to us almost certainly on account of his naming his collected works Essais, coming from the French verb essayer, “to try.” We distinguish the essay from the research paper, say, as an essay is an attempt to clarify some matter for oneself.
Montaigne’s link to a Jewish heritage arises from history, geography and blood. He was born in 1533, just 41 years after the Catholic Monarchs had expelled Jews under the threat of the Inquisition. His mother was a third-generation convert to Christianity whose grandparents resettled in France. Périgord was a favorite destination of expelled Jews. There is no evidence that his mother’s family were ever hidden Jews. Although it was known that he had Jewish ancestors on his mother’s side, this made little difference to him or his followers. Montaigne never self-identified as a Jew. In fact, after preparing a will, he had a last mass read in his room just before his death. While he was interested in and sympathetic toward Jews, there is no evidence that he tried to help them on any occasion. Of course, nowadays only DNA testing would provide reliable evidence of any Jewish blood. Yet one can point to cultural similarities. He possessed the traits of introspection, self-analysis and self-deprecation that many Jews are identified with. In the final analysis, he was neither French, nor Spanish or Jewish. He was, rather, a universal man admired over centuries by people of diverse nationalities, backgrounds and professions. He was an unusual and admirable product of the universal human race.
“[I]ntrospection, self-analysis and self-deprecation” – alas, are these not always qualities one pursues for the benefit of others, but must be pursued, paradoxically, initially for oneself? No wonder so many of us struggle to learn how to write effectively; no wonder so many of us have seeming to given up on the craft. Perhaps such an understanding would be contingent on healthier, robust forms of pedagogy as we enter into the coming wild, unchartered times of LLMs.
Despite accessing this URL over port 4000 umpteen times, and over port 9091 nearly never, Chrome insists on autocompleting to the former. It’s little things like this that just could be better. Despite being a roughly 1.649 trillion dollar company, it’s something they missed or don’t have the will to fix. And it’s something Apple wouldn’t have ignored during Jobs’ reign. Perhaps this example succinctly emblemizes a primary grievance against my former employer; a sort of thing I observed far more often than I would have liked. Though it may be defended by a kind of financial rationality, these things add up; and at scale, they just ain’t a good look. Perhaps it’s time for Firefox anyways.
“How are you as far as sex goes, Sophocles? Can you still make love with a woman?” “Quiet, man,” the poet replied, “I am very glad to have escaped from all that, like a slave who has escaped from a savage and tyrannical master.” I thought at the time that he was right, and I still do, for old age brings peace and freedom from all such things. When the appetites relax and cease to importune us, everything Sophocles said comes to pass, and we escape from many mad masters.
