Because it was him, because it was me

1. A Little Bit of History

Michel de Montaigne’s mother tongue was Latin. When he was born in February 1533, his father instructed that the child should be spoken to only in Latin, even by the servants, so he grew up speaking Latin fluently.

This unusual beginning, though surely slightly isolating, seems to have paid off. Montaigne studied law, joined the Parlement (high law court) of Bordeaux and, in his 40s, started writing the essays for which he is now famous. He essentially invented the form – writing a short subjective treatment on a given subject, which he called an ‘essai’, a trial or attempt.

He wrote these wonderful, wide-ranging, profound essays after experiencing immense grief. In the space of a few years, his father, brother, first child, and best friend had died. There was nothing, he wrote, now ‘but dark and dreary night’.

Montaigne had met his friend, Etienne de la Boétie, when they worked together at the Parlement. He wrote of La Boétie after his death, ‘he is still lodged in me so entire and so alive that I cannot believe he is so irrevocably buried’.

The Renaissance was an age that celebrated friendship and Montaigne would have been familiar with Cicero’s sentiments in De amicitia:

‘Friendship is nothing else than an accord in all things.... conjoined with mutual goodwill and affection, and I am inclined to think that, with the exception of wisdom, no better thing has been given to man by the immortal gods...’

Montaigne picked up this theme in his essay, ‘On Friendship’, describing how perfect friends are ‘one soul in bodies twain’ – one soul in two bodies. Their:

‘souls are mingled and confounded in so universal a blending that they efface the seam which joins them so it cannot be found’.

Montaigne and La Boétie had shared a passion for literature, philosophy and subtle thinking but, in ‘On Friendship’, Montaigne argued that true love or friendship requires no explanation other than this alignment of souls:

‘If I am pressed to say why I love him, I feel it can only be expressed by replying: Parce que c’était lui, parce que c’était moi (Because it was him, because it was me).’

I have only one bone to pick with Montaigne: he didn’t think women capable of this sort of friendship-love. I have news for him: we are.

2. News & New Releases

I’ve had a tough week.

Going back to work after a holiday always presents its own challenges for a freelancer because one has to wriggle like mad to create space to take time off and the weeks either side get all squished.

It was a podcast week – we recorded nine episodes on topics including the Mayflower, Moll Cutpurse, the Origins of the French Revolution and Bess of Hardwick. Some really wonderful conversations! But I should have recorded eleven podcasts and didn’t because I was also unwell this week (I’m fine now).

Plus I met with Gillian Moore and the Radio 3 team to discuss what we’re including in my last two episodes of Key Changes (recording next week), went to a lovely party hosted by my literary agents, Felicity Bryan Associates (talked to lots of wonderful people, including Simukai Chigudu – his memoir, Chasing Freedom, is well worth your time), and met with the other Public Humanities Fellows at the School of Advanced Studies. We have an event coming up on 7 July – free and live-streamed; do book here. I have yet to choose my object. Aargh!

Today, our next episode of Key Changes: Radio 3’s Essential History of Classical Music aired. It is called 1600: Opera’s First Breath and is now available on BBC Sounds.

This week on Not Just the Tudors we released:

• True Crime: Medici Murder at the Louvre (could any more enticing words possibly be fitted into a title?)

• Rise & Fall of James IV of Scotland – the dynamic king we should all know about

3. A Question For You

Montaigne’s greatest work was done after his greatest loss. No matter what you’ve gone or are going through, can you try to imagine that your best is still ahead?

Thank you for reading.

Yours ‘til the tides neither ebb nor flow,

Suzannah x