Montaigne opens with Epictetus: men are tormented by opinions of things, not by things themselves. If evils enter by judgment, he asks, why do we arm ourselves for the interpretation that hurts most? Death, poverty, and pain look different across persons and cultures because the mind composes them, not nature alone; one man calls death the harbor from life's storms while another trembles before it.
Philosophers court death; ordinary people go to execution joking or bargaining about debts and ticklish necks; wives burn themselves cheerfully in custom; Jews choose slavery over exile when Portugal betrayed them. Every opinion can cost a life, which shows force lies in belief, not bare event, and even Pyrrho's hog is calm in storms while reason sometimes multiplies fear.
Montaigne grants pain is not imaginary. Posidonius lectured on contempt of pain while suffering, yet interrupted his speech when torment bit; beasts and bodies still flinch, and we cannot persuade skin that a whip tickles. Still, the surgeon's lancet hurts more than battle wounds, childbearing varies by nation, and suffering grows with the attention we lend it; pain fought boldly often surrenders on better terms.
Examples multiply: Spartan boys endure torture for shame, gladiators laugh under the knife, women flay their faces or swallow ashes for beauty, martyrs choose agony for faith, and Arras citizens hang rather than say God save the king. Grief itself depends on opinion, as Cicero says, and even Alexander and Caesar sought trouble after security because repose bored them.
Montaigne then tests the thesis on money through three phases of his life: careless borrowing in youth, anxious hoarding in middle age, and living at the height of revenue without letting wealth become a second master. Hoarding bred fear of roads and servants; spending freely on pleasure finally broke the fetish, and Feraulez gave away fortune when appetite no longer grew with substance.
Plenty and want, like glory and health, borrow their taste from the soul that receives them. Fortune supplies matter; we give form. Clothes warm us with our own heat, and difficulty makes the same act feel light or unbearable. Philosophy cannot remove pain, but it can keep us from multiplying it, and Montaigne closes by asking what we do with those who will neither live nor die well.
Coming Up in Chapter 41
After opinion shapes pain and plenty, Montaigne turns to reputation's folly. Men will abandon health and peace for glory, yet hesitate to lend another man his own honour Montaigne opens on reputation: fame is an echo and shadow, yet even philosophers cling to it. Honour is rarely shared; we lend goods and risk lives for friends, but seldom robe another in our glory..
