Denique FAMILIAREM dico, quae res tangit nostras aut circa nos, quaeque in assidua vita.
[Finally I call “familiar” a letter which touches our affairs or the affairs of those around us, or whatever is unremitting in life.]
—Justi Lipsi Epistolica Institutio
(Principles of Letter-Writing by Justus Lipsius, 1591), c.V, pp. 20-21
I have written thrice to thee, and never hast thou once vouchsafed me one word from thee. But hadst thou my letters? Dear, tell me that. It may be thou art abused and I injured in the not-delivery of them.
—Lady Mary Wroth, The Countess of Montgomery’s Urania, II.50
How many ways could my letters go astray?
“Insufficient postage,” dropped in the mire,
By mischievous spirits blown far away,
Or stolen by spies, or burnt by dragonfire.
And isn’t Love likewise easily misplaced?
Crumpled by unkind word or lack of faith,
Torn to shreds by acts too slutty or chaste,
Else purloined by sneaky dybbuk or wraith.
Like parents who care for their precious heirs,
Then launch them on a world of much duress,
To write thee or love thee be fragile prayers:
My soul conveyed to a fickle goddess.
Though something’s exalted ’bout sending mail,
In this foul age it’s to little avail.
Michael A. Winkelman