The Essays, vol 12 | Page 5

upon myself, I have been so often constrained to
temper and compose myself in a right posture, that the copy is truly
taken, and has in some sort formed itself; painting myself for others, I
represent myself in a better colouring than my own natural complexion.
I have no more made my book than my book has made me: 'tis a book
consubstantial with the author, of a peculiar design, a parcel of my life,
and whose business is not designed for others, as that of all other books
is. In giving myself so continual and so exact an account of myself,
have I lost my time? For they who sometimes cursorily survey
themselves only, do not so strictly examine themselves, nor penetrate
so deep, as he who makes it his business, his study, and his
employment, who intends a lasting record, with all his fidelity, and
with all his force: The most delicious pleasures digested within, avoid
leaving any trace of themselves, and avoid the sight not only of the
people, but of any other person. How often has this work diverted me
from troublesome thoughts? and all that are frivolous should be reputed
so. Nature has presented us with a large faculty of entertaining
ourselves alone; and often calls us to it, to teach us that we owe
ourselves in part to society, but chiefly and mostly to ourselves. That I

may habituate my fancy even to meditate in some method and to some
end, and to keep it from losing itself and roving at random, 'tis but to
give to body and to record all the little thoughts that present themselves
to it. I give ear to my whimsies, because I am to record them. It often
falls out, that being displeased at some action that civility and reason
will not permit me openly to reprove, I here disgorge myself, not
without design of public instruction: and also these poetical lashes,
"Zon zur l'oeil, ion sur le groin, Zon zur le dos du Sagoin,"
["A slap on his eye, a slap on his snout, a slap on Sagoin's
back."--Marot. Fripelippes, Valet de Marot a Sagoin.]
imprint themselves better upon paper than upon the flesh. What if I
listen to books a little more attentively than ordinary, since I watch if I
can purloin anything that may adorn or support my own? I have not at
all studied to make a book; but I have in some sort studied because I
had made it; if it be studying to scratch and pinch now one author, and
then another, either by the head or foot, not with any design to form
opinions from them, but to assist, second, and fortify those I already
have embraced. But whom shall we believe in the report he makes of
himself in so corrupt an age? considering there are so few, if, any at all,
whom we can believe when speaking of others, where there is less
interest to lie. The first thing done in the corruption of manners is
banishing truth; for, as Pindar says, to be true is the beginning of a
great virtue, and the first article that Plato requires in the governor of
his Republic. The truth of these days is not that which really is, but
what every man persuades another man to believe; as we generally give
the name of money not only to pieces of the dust alloy, but even to the
false also, if they will pass. Our nation has long been reproached with
this vice; for Salvianus of Marseilles, who lived in the time of the
Emperor Valentinian, says that lying and forswearing themselves is
with the French not a vice, but a way of speaking. He who would
enhance this testimony, might say that it is now a virtue in them; men
form and fashion themselves to it as to an exercise of honour; for
dissimulation is one of the most notable qualities of this age.
I have often considered whence this custom that we so religiously

observe should spring, of being more highly offended with the reproach
of a vice so familiar to us than with any other, and that it should be the
highest insult that can in words be done us to reproach us with a lie.
Upon examination, I find that it is natural most to defend the defects
with which we are most tainted. It seems as if by resenting and being
moved at the accusation, we in some sort acquit ourselves of the fault;
though we have it in effect, we condemn it in outward appearance. May
it not also be that this reproach seems to imply cowardice and
feebleness of heart? of which can there be a more manifest sign than to
eat a man's own words--nay, to