Montaigne's "On Friendship": Part II
Reflecting on Montaigne's conception of the singularity of true friendship.
Last month, I wrote about Michel de Montaigne’s touching essay, “On Friendship.” In truth, I had only read half of the essay; I should have read it in its entirety.
I have now done just this.
The friendship Montaigne describes is so singular that, in modern parlance, it is more aptly described as (platonic) love. After presenting you his description of such a friendship, I suspect the reader will agree:
“Such a friendship has no model but itself, and can only be compared to itself. . . In this noble relationship services and kindnesses, which keep other friendships alive, do not deserve even to be taken into account, by the reason of the complete fusion of the wills. . . I feel no gratitude to myself for any service that I do myself; so the union of such friends, being truly perfect, causes them to lose consciousness of these duties, and to hate and banish from their thoughts these words that imply separation and difference. . . their agreement being that of one soul in two bodies. . . they can neither lend nor give one another anything.” (Emphasis added)
The perfect union Montaigne describes is one he is skeptical other humans — including the great philosophers of antiquity — have ever experienced or will experience. I cannot comment on whether others past, present, or future have enjoyed Montaignean friendship; I can report that my brother Ben and I are such friends.
Montaigne continues to describe the singularity of such truly perfect friendship:
“But that friendship which possesses the soul and rules over it with complete sovereignty cannot possibly be divided in two. . . A unique and dominant friendship dissolves all other obligations. . . Nothing is superlative that has its like. And anyone who supposes that I can love two equally and that they can love one another and me as much as I love them, is multiplying into a brotherhood something absolutely single and indivisible, one sole example of which is the hardest thing in the world to find.” (Emphasis added)
If Montaigne’s conception of friendship, i.e., that one in accordance with “Aristotle’s very proper definition,” is to be accepted, one must accept the unitary nature thereof. One’s will — one’s soul — is indivisible. If one entirely alienates it to another, and vice versa, it is technically impossible to replicate this process between others. Doing so would necessarily entail that one can divide something that is, by its very definition, indivisible. This is clearly a metaphysical impossibility.
Some (many) may dispute this understanding of friendship. In response, I echo Montaigne’s skepticism that, “knowing how far from common, indeed how rare, such friendship is, I have no expectation of finding a competent judge.”
Put directly: If you, dear reader, dispute this account of friendship, I regard you as simply not having experienced it. I hope that, while you still draw breath, you do.
I would beg your pardon for such hubris, but I have, in the words of Descartes, clearly and distinctly perceived this to be reality—I cannot be persuaded to reject it for falsehood.