Michel de Montaigne de Montaigne, Michel 1570 Mademoiselle de Montaigne de Montaigne, Mademoiselle VIII

To Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle de Montaigne, my wife.

My wife,—You understand well that it is not the part of a man of the world, according to the rules of this time, still to court and caress you; for they say that a sensible man may well take a wife, but that to espouse her is to act like a fool. Let them talk; I adhere for my part to the custom of the elder age; I also wear my hair in that fashion. And, in truth, novelty costs this poor State to this moment so dear (and I do not know whether we are yet at the height), that everywhere and in everything I forsake the mode. Let us live, my wife, you and I, in the old French method. Now, you may recollect how the late M. de la Boetie, that dear

brother and inseparable companion of mine, gave me, at his death, all his papers and books, which have remained ever since the most favorite part of my effects. I do not wish to keep them niggardly to myself alone, nor do I deserve to have the exclusive use of them. On this account I have formed a desire to communicate them to my friends; and because I have none, I believe, more intimate than you, I send you the Consolatory Letter of Plutarch to his Wife, translated by him into French; very sorry that fortune has made you so suitable a present, and that, having had no child save a daughter, long looked for, after four years of our married life, it was our lot to lose her in the second year of her age. But I leave to Plutarch the charge of comforting you, and acquainting you with your duty herein, praying you to trust him for my sake; for he will reveal to you my purposes, and will state them far better than I should myself. Hereupon, my wife, I commend myself very heartily to your good-will, and pray God that He will have you in His keeping. From Paris, this 10th September 1570.—Your good husband,

MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE.