On Coaches and Conquest — The Essays of Montaigne

Montaigne says authors crowd many causes together because one is never enough, then asks why we bless sneezers: wind from below is filthy, from the mouth gluttonous, but sneezing from the head is civil, or so Aristotle is said to distinguish.

Plutarch proves fear may sicken sailors though Montaigne's seasickness owes nothing to fear; courage is keeping judgment open while afraid, as Socrates showed retreating steadily after defeat when others fled in panic.

He hates coach, litter, and boat except horseback, especially interrupted motion; physicians advise girding the belly, but he wrestles defects himself. Hungarian coach-battalions once mixed musketry and charges; kings travelled in ox-carts or lion-drawn pageantry while private display at home is vanity.

Liberality in princes breeds ingratitude when unlimited; justice fits kings better than spectacle, and Cyrus proved friends a better treasury than hoarded gold. Roman games, when emperors paid, became transfer of public wealth to strangers, not virtue.

Our knowledge is short in time and matter; we call the world decrepit while Lucretius once called it young. Montaigne mourns the discovered Americas: Cusco's gold gardens, brave deaths, and replies wiser than Spanish greed deserved, yet conquest used beards, horses, steel, and cannon against naked courage.

Atahualpa paid ransom then was hanged after baptism; Guatimosin watched a lord break on the rack and asked whether he himself was in a bath. Mechanic victories for pearl and pepper leveled cities; the last Peru king was carried on golden staves until a horseman seized him and brought him to the ground.