When to Open the Letter — The Essays of Montaigne

Montaigne gives the palm to Jacques Amyot among French writers, not only for the simplicity of his language or for smoothing so knotty an author as Plutarch, but above all for choosing a book worthy enough to present to his country. Montaigne understands nothing of Greek, yet he meets sense so well united throughout the translation that Amyot either knew Plutarch's true fancy or had, by long converse, imprinted a general idea of him in his soul. Ignorant fellows, he says, had been lost had not this book raised them out of the dirt. By that favour they dare now speak and write; the ladies are able to read to schoolmasters; the work is their breviary. If this good man is still living, Montaigne would recommend Xenophon next, a much easier task and more proper for the translator's age. He was just now reading the passage where Plutarch says of himself that Rusticus, present at a declamation of Plutarch's at Rome, received a packet from the emperor and deferred to open it till all was done. The company highly applauded the gravity of this person.

Montaigne grants the courtesy. An eager passion for news makes people leave all to entertain a newcomer and tear open letters in any company, and Rusticus would not interrupt the current of the declamation. Yet he doubts whether anyone can commend the prudence. Unexpected letters, especially from an emperor, might have made the delay of great prejudice. The vice opposite to curiosity is negligence, to which Montaigne naturally inclines, and he has seen men with letters sent three or four days before still sealed up in their pockets. He never opens letters directed to another, not only those entrusted with him but even such as fortune has guided to his hand, and he is angry with himself if his eyes steal contents when he stands near a great man. Never was man less inquisitive into other men's affairs. In their fathers' days Monsieur de Boutieres had like to have lost Turin from delaying, while engaged in good company at supper, to read information of treason plotted against the city he commanded. Julius Caesar might have preserved himself if, going to the Senate the day he was assassinated, he had read a note presented to him by the way. Archias, the tyrant of Thebes, received a full account of the design Pelopidas had plotted to kill him, sent by another Archias, an Athenian, and, sitting at supper, deferred the opening of it, saying what afterwards turned to a proverb in Greece: Business to-morrow.

A wise man may, out of respect to another, as Rusticus did, or so as not to break off another affair of importance in hand, defer to read a new thing brought him. For his own interest or particular pleasure, especially if he is a public minister, that he will not interrupt his dinner or break his sleep is inexcusable. There was anciently at Rome the consular place, the most honourable seat at table, as being of most liberty and convenient access to those who came in to speak to the person seated there. Being at meat, they did not totally abandon other affairs and incidents. When all is said, it is very hard in human actions to give so exact a rule upon moral reasons that fortune will not therein maintain her own right.