Bordeaux; and we know enough to believe that he tasted freely of its pleasures, and failed to imitate the rare continency and self-respect which he himself tells us distinguished—for at that time it did constitute a distinction—the youth and early manhood of his father. But by far the most important event of his conseiller's life at Bordeaux was his friendship with Etienne de la Boëtie, a fellow conseiller, and author of the celebrated treatise against monarchy entitled De la servitude volontaire. It is difficult to understand what it was that formed the bond of union between these distinguished men—of whom one was cautious, timid, and inclined to compromise; whilst the other seemed to be consumed with a downright fiery indignation against the tyrannous institutions of his country. Certain it is, however, that a friendship was speedily "elemented" between them, which, in comparison of the ordinary friendships of the world, may fairly claim to be styled romantic, and which continued tender and true till La Boëtie, smitten of the plague, breathed out his last words in the ear of his sorrowing friend. Of this remarkable friendship every reader of Montaigne must know the touching record which is contained in the "Essays;" nor will he need to be told that, whenever the name of La Boëtie occurs, it is accompanied with a style of sentiment and expression that contrasts strongly with the ordinary manner of Montaigne. If, indeed, any further testimony were required of the purity and strength of his affection, the following simple but affecting sentence, penned twenty years after the death of La Boëtie, seems to put the matter beyond question. It is found in the journal of his visit to Italy:—"M. de Montaigne was suddenly seized with such painful thoughts of M. de la Boëtie, and it was so long before he came to himself, that it did him much harm."
Montaigne's marriage with Françoise de la Chassagne took place in 1566, when he was thirty-three years of age. It was one purely of convenience and family arrangement. Old Pierre Eyquem, fancying probably that his son would follow out his parliamentary career, was anxious to strengthen his interest in that connection, and decided on a conseiller's daughter for his wife. It has been commonly believed, but seemingly upon insufficient grounds, that Montaigne did not live happily with her. There were, no doubt, occasional jars; for Françoise had a voluble tongue, and philosophers are not the most accommodating husbands. But there is absolutely no proof of her having been a tormenting shrew, as one of his biographers asserts; and the letter in which he dedicated to her La Boëtie's translation of Plutarch's Letter of Consolation would have been nothing but a piece of ridiculous hypocrisy, had their relations been other than tolerably comfortable and happy. We might also adduce that passage in the "Essays" in which he represents himself as playing at cards with his wife and daughter for small sums, as additional evidence in the same direction.
The year after his marriage introduces us to an important event in the intellectual life of Montaigne. It was in that year that his father suggested to him to make a translation into French of the Theologia Naturalis, sive Liber Creaturarum Magistri Raimondi de Sebonde—a book which Pierre Bunel, one of the learned men who resorted to the Château de Montaigne, had made a present of to old Pierre Eyquem. Montaigne appears to have been at Paris when he finished his translation, and, singularly enough, wrote a dedication to his father on the very day of that father's death, viz., June 18, 1568. The book was given to the world in the year following; and a second edition appeared in 1581, after the publication of the "Essays." The translation of Raimond inaugurated Montaigne's literary career, though it gave but faint intimation of the peculiar style and character of those writings which he was afterwards to produce, and which will introduce him familiarly to the knowledge of mankind so long as any relish for the humours and eccentricities of human character shall be found to exist.
His father being now dead, Montaigne resigned his office of conseiller on the 24th of July, 1570. It is probable that his mild and tolerant nature had become disgusted with the flagrant cruelty and injustice which the parliaments, without exception, exhibited in the trials of protestants. But however much his feelings may have been outraged in this way, we need not wonder that there is no mention made of it in his works; for his habitual caution, and what we must regard as a certain constitutional timidity, would infallibly prevent his recording anything that might be distasteful to authority. During the short interval that elapsed between the resignation of his office and his retirement to the Château de Montaigne he busied himself in editing the works of his friend La Boëtie. Literary society having also become more attractive for him than formerly, he loitered a brief space among the learned celebrities of the capital before he shut himself up in his tower, and in a manner shook hands with the pomps and gaieties of the fashionable world.
The following inscription, too interesting to be omitted, still exists in the Château de Montaigne:—"In the year of our Lord, 1571, aged thirty-eight, on the eve of the Kalends of March, the anniversary day of his birth, Michel de Montaigne, having long been weary of the slavery of courts and public employments, takes refuge in the bosom of the learned Virgins. He designs, in quiet and indifference to all things, to conclude there the remainder of his life, already more than half past, and he has dedicated to repose and liberty this agreeable and peaceful abode, which he has inherited from his ancestors." There, in the great tower overlooking the entrance to the courtyard, which still contains many inscriptions written with his own hand, he spent a great part of the remainder of his life. He read, and meditated, and wrote by turns. His studies were indeed wholly desultory and unconnected. Perhaps his most cherished authors were Plutarch and Seneca; but he had gone through after his own fashion great part of the classical writers; for though he had little Greek, most of the Attic philosophers and historians had by that time been put into a Latin dress. So he was at no loss. Provided he could spell out the facts and opinions of his author, he cared little for the medium by which they were communicated to his mind. He does not seem to have ever given any attention to the study of language as such, nor even to have put any value upon the ornaments and graces of style. He was a philosopher, and disdained all trifles save those which concerned himself and his own affairs. But no personal matter was a trifle; nothing of that kind too inconsiderable to be set down in his book for the information of the present and all future generations. And yet we are thankful that it was so. Had Montaigne been a mere poring grammarian, and endowed with an ordinary share of modesty, the world would have lacked no small amount of the amusement and instruction it has enjoyed these already more than two hundred and fifty years. Scaliger, with a grammarian's pride and jealousy, asks—What matters it what kind of wine Montaigne drinks? but the world has decided differently, and no doubt the familiarity with which he lets us see the management of his household and gossips about his likings and dislikings, constitutes, in spite of some particulars we could have well dispensed with, a considerable part of the charm which fascinates, and for ages will continue to fascinate the reader, in perusing his inimitable "Essays."
Immediately after the publication of the first edition of the "Essays" in 1580, he began to make preparations for the longest journey he had yet undertaken. For though he had travelled extensively in France, and made acquaintance with all conditions and varieties in the life of his fellow-subjects, he had never crossed the frontier. He hoped also to reap some benefit to his health from foreign travel, having now for many years been suffering from a painful nephritic disorder. He put no faith in the doctors, and had felt no relief from frequent use of the baths at the principal watering-places in the south of France. So on the 22nd June, after having given instructions to his household, he set out from the château, and passing through France and Lorraine, Switzerland and the Tyrol, descended into Italy, the country, whose history, of all countries in the world, was most familiar to his thoughts. The journal of his travels, which was only recently discovered, is in the highest degree interesting and instructive. His descriptions of Rome are particularly vivid, and—such is the stationariness of the Eternal City—as true of the Rome of the present day as of that which the inquisitive eyes of the Gascon philosopher beheld. His return home, after an absence of about eighteen months, was hastened by his unexpected election to the mayorship of Bordeaux. This was then an office of high dignity, which none but gentlemen following the profession of arms could legally hold. Montaigne was one of the very few mayors who were re-elected, and his vanity was not a little tickled with the honour.
The chief events of his remaining years are soon told. The third book of his "Essays," which he had been working at for some years, was published in 1588. He had seen his only child, a daughter, married. Left thus alone with his Françoise,
