effect”; and in 1595 the paragraph beginning “In truth,” and ending with “silence.”
These two added pages, interesting in themselves, are somewhat incoherent and confusing where they stand and do not well preface the stories.
In the passage regarding the education of children (chapter 26 of this Book) we have the first expression — there are many later ones — of Montaigne’s thoughtful study of education; a study of its principles which caused his precepts to rank among those that no change of beliefs or fashions can impair.
THERE is no man whom it becomes so ill to undertake to speak about memory as myself. For I recognize scarcely a trace of it in myself, and I do not believe that there can be another man in the world so horribly deficient in this respect. All my other faculties are mean and ordinary; but regarding this one, I think I am exceptional and most unusual, and worthy to win name and fame thereby. I could tell some wonderful stories about this, but for the present it is more worth while to pursue my subject.[1]
(b) In addition to the natural troublesome consequences that I suffer because of this,— (c) for surely, considering its indispensableness, Plato is justified in calling memory a great and powerful goddess,[2] — (b) if, in my part of the world they mean that a man is lacking in intelligence, they say that he has no memory; and when I complain of the failure of mine, they correct me and disbelieve me, as if I accused myself of being unintelligent; they see no distinction between memory and understanding. This makes my case much worse. But they wrong me, for, quite to the contrary, experience shows that excellent memories are frequently found in conjunction with feeble powers of judgement. They wrong me also in this, that the same words which indicate my malady[3] stand for ingratitude — for I can do nothing else so well as be a friend. They lay the blame on my heart instead of on my memory, and of an involuntary defect they make a wilful one. “He forgets,” they say, “this request or
