■JUnOer a S>ogwoo& witb flDontaigne 



phy was sincerity itself, which he urged 

 to the excess of unbridled coarseness, so 

 much did he dread the appearance of 

 mincing the truth. Certainly he called a 

 spade a spade without wincing. The 

 church did not escape his open-handed 

 liberality of investigation, but at bottom 

 he was not irreverent; he frankly applied 

 such common sense as he possessed to 

 everything that challenged his reason. In 

 those days the priestly attitude was far 

 more jealous than it is now; both the 

 Catholic and the Protestant went about 

 grimly, chip on shoulder, hankering for 

 trouble. Montaigne kept near the middle 

 of the road with his genial " que scays 

 je?" and prodded carelessly to left and 

 right with a dangerous boar-spear, as if it 

 were the gentlest thing in the world to im- 

 pale something alive and sacred to the ig- 

 norance and superstition of his time. It 

 was his way of showing his impartiality 

 and his amiable temper. With such an 

 air of innocence and with so many self-ac- 

 cusations and protestations of invalidism 

 and approaching senility did he potter 

 280 



