The journal of Montaigne's travels in Italy by way of Switzerland and Germany in 1580 and 1581, Volume 2 (of 3) — Story, Setting & Ideas
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The second volume of Montaigne's travel journal opens with the party arriving in Verona, where the narrator immediately notes the practical nuisance of health bulletins required for entry—'not that there was any talk of danger of the plague, but this is always done by custom or by way of tricking wayfarers out of a few coins.' This matter-of-fact tone, attentive to both bureaucracy and local habits, sets the pattern for the entries that follow. Montaigne's eye is drawn to incongruities: at High Mass, worshippers chatter with hats on, turning their backs to the altar, while an organ and violins accompany the service. The text also records the city's preservation of monuments, such as the tombs of the Scaligers, and the marks left by German soldiers. These early pages establish a travelogue that is less a scenic tour than a record of how people live, govern, and worship.
Customs and Contradictions in Worship
Throughout the Verona entry, Montaigne contrasts the solemnity of religious ceremony with the casual behavior of the congregation. He remarks on the 'strange behaviour of those present at High Mass on such a solemn day'—people chatting in the choir, standing with hats on, and ignoring the service except during the elevation. The presence of musical instruments like organ and violins adds another layer: the mass is both sacred and theatrical. Later, in Rome, he observes a Palm Sunday ritual where a boy of fifteen, recently released from prison for killing another child, sits beside the altar in blue taffetas, crowned with olive branches. Such details reveal a traveler who notes the gap between doctrine and practice, and who records the peculiarities of ecclesiastical display without moralizing.
The Pope's Procession and Diplomatic Theater
In Rome, Montaigne witnesses the homage paid by Spain for the kingdom of Portugal, a ceremony involving artillery salutes, trumpets, and the Pope's archers. He does not enter to hear the speeches, but instead notes the reaction of the Muscovite ambassador, who dismisses the show because in his country troops number twenty-five or thirty thousand. This anecdote, relayed secondhand, shows Montaigne's interest in how different cultures measure grandeur. He also describes the Pope's visit to the seven churches, detailing his flesh-colored boots with lighter leather crosses, and the spare horse, hackney, mule, and litter always carried. The specificity of these observations—the gilded spurs, the red hats—grounds the narrative in tangible objects rather than abstract commentary.
Confronting the Censors of His Essays
A remarkable passage recounts the return of Montaigne's volume of Essays, 'castigated and brought into harmony with the opinions of the monkish doctors.' The Maestro del Sacro Palazzo, unable to read French, relied on a French monk's report. Montaigne defends specific passages: his use of the word 'Fortune,' his apology for Julian, his remarks on prayer and cruelty in execution, and his advocacy for teaching children to examine all sides. He denies error in many instances and claims the critic misunderstood his meaning. The Maestro exonerates him, even arguing on his behalf against an Italian opponent. This episode offers a rare glimpse of Montaigne negotiating with ecclesiastical authority, and it underscores the personal stakes behind the travel record.
The Texture of Daily Life in Rome
Interspersed with grand ceremonies are small, telling moments. Montaigne notes that at Saint John Lateran, transparent marble was shown to him. He records that the Pope's esquire awaited him with gilded spurs, but the Pope asked for his litter. The Muscovite ambassador's dismissive remark about the size of the procession is overheard and passed along. These fragments build a portrait of Rome as a city of layered performances—religious, diplomatic, and social. The journal does not attempt a systematic survey; instead, it moves from the specific to the general, letting the reader infer the character of places from the incidents Montaigne chooses to record. His voice remains present but restrained, offering observations without elaborate interpretation.
Readers approaching this volume should attend to the interplay between Montaigne's personal concerns and his outward observations. The journal is not a polished memoir but a working document, mixing travel notes with reflections on censorship, local customs, and the quirks of power. The excerpts suggest that Montaigne's eye for detail—the color of a boot, the behavior of a congregation—serves a larger curiosity about how societies organize themselves. Let the text's abrupt shifts and occasional silences guide your reading; what is omitted may be as telling as what is recorded.
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