66

CHAPTER IX.

Of giving the Lie.

taigne

himself in

WELL, but some one will say to me, “This de- Why Mon"sign of making a man's self the subject of his wri- speaks so ting were excusable in rare and famous men, who, often of by their reputation, had given others a curiosity this work. "to be fully informed of them." It is most true, I confess it, and know very well, that artificers will scarce lift their eyes from their work to look at an ordinary man, when they will forsake their workhouses and shops to stare at an eminent person, when he comes to town: it misbecomes any person to give his own character, except he has qualities worthy of imitation, and whose life and opinions may serve for a model. The great actions of Cæsar and Xenophon were a just and solid basis on which to fix and found their narratives: and it were also to be wished, that we had the Journals of Alexander the Great, and the Commentaries that Augustus, Cato, Sylla, Brutus, and others have left of their actions. We love and contemplate the very statues of such personages, both in copper and marble. This remonstrance is very true, but it very little concerns

me:

;

Non recito cuiquam, nisi amicis, idque rogatus ;*
Non ubivis, coramve quibuslibet: in medio qui
Scripta foro recitant, sunt multi, quique lavantes.†

I seldom e'er rehearse, and when I do

"Tis to my friends, and with reluctance too,
Not before every one, and every where ;
We have too many that rehearsers are,
In baths, the forum, and the public square.

* Instead of coactus, as Horace has it in the first verse, Montaigne

has substituted rogatus, which more exactly expresses his thought. † Hor. lib. i. sat. 4, ver. 73, &c.

I do not here form a statue to erect in the centre of a city, in the church, or any public quadrangle :

Non equidem hoc studeo, bullatis ut mihi nugis

Pagina turgescat:

Secreti loquimur.*

With pompous trash to swell the frothy line
Is not, indeed, my friend, what I design:
Whatever be the secrets I indite,

To you I trust, to you alone I write.

It is for some corner of a library, or to entertain a neighbour, a kinsman, or a friend, that has a mind· to renew his acquaintance and familiarity with me in this my picture. Others have been encouraged to speak of themselves, because they found the subject worthy and rich; I, on the contrary, am the bolder, by reason my subject is so poor and sterile, that I cannot be suspected of ostentation. I judge freely of the actions of others; I give little of my own to judge of, because of their nothingness: I am not so conscious of any good in myself, as to tell it without blushing. What contentment would it be to me to hear any thus relate to me the manners, faces, countenances, the ordinary words and fortunes of my ancestors? How attentively should I listen to it! In truth, it would be ill-nature to despise even the pictures of our friends and predecessors, the fashion of their clothes, and of their arms. I preserve my father's writings, his seal, and one particular sword of his, and have not thrown the long staves he used to carry in his hand, out of my closet. Paterna vestis, et annulus, tanto charior est posteris, quanto erga parentes major affectus:t" A "father's robe and ring are so much the dearer to "his posterity, in proportion to the affection they "retain for him." If my posterity, nevertheless, shall be of another mind, I shall be even with them; for they cannot care less for me, than I shall then do for them. All the traffic that I have, in this, with † Aug. de Civitate Dei, lib. i. cap. 13.

* Pers. sat. v. ver. 19.

the public, is, that I borrow their writing tackle, as
it is more easy, and at hand; and, in recompense,
shall, perhaps, keep a dish of butter from melting in
the market.

Ne toga cordyllis, ne penula desit olivis,*
Et laxas scombris sæpe dabo tunicas.†
I'll furnish plaice and olives with a coat,
And cover mack'rel when the sun shines hot.

talks so

himself,

better

give his

And though no body should read me, have I lost Montaigne my time in entertaining myself so many idle hours, much of in thoughts so pleasing and useful? In moulding that he this figure upon myself, I have been so oft constrain- might the ed to curry and turn myself, as it were, inside out, know himthat the copy is truly taken, and has, in some sort, self, and formed itself. But, as I paint for others, I represent own true myself in more exquisite colouring than in my own character. natural complexion. I am as much formed by my book, as my book is by me: it is a book consubstantial with the author; of a peculiar tenor; a member of my life, and whose business is not designed for others, as that of all other books is. In giving so continual and so curious an account of myself, have I lost any time? for he who sometimes cursorily surveys himself only, doth not so strictly examine himself, nor penetrate so deep, as he who makes it his business, his study, and his whole employment; who intends to give a lasting record, with all his fidelity, and with all his force. The most delicious pleasures, however digested internally, avoid leaving any trace of themselves, and shun the sight not only of the people, but of any other man. How oft has this affair diverted me from uneasy thoughts? And all that are frivolous should be reputed so. has presented us with a large faculty of entertaining ourselves apart; and oft call us to it, to teach us, that we owe ourselves, in part, to society, but chiefly to ourselves. In order to habituate my fancy, even to meditate in some method, and to some end, and

Nature

* Mart. lib. xiii. ep. 1, ver. 1. + Catullus, ep. 92, ver. 8.

to keep it from losing itself, and roving at random, it is but to give it a body, and to register all the pretty thoughts that present themselves to it. I give ear to my whimsies, because I am to record them. How oft has it fallen out, that, being displeased at some action which civility and reason did not permit me openly to reprove, I have here disgorged myself of them, not without design of public instruction: and yet these poetical lashes,

Zon des sur l'œil, zon sur le groin,

Zon sur le dos du Sagoin.*

A jerk over the eye, over the snout,
Let Sagoin be jerk'd throughout.

imprint themselves better upon paper, than upon the
most sensible flesh. What if I listen to books a lit-
tle more attentively than ordinary, since I watch if I
can purloin any thing 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 steal opinions from them, but
to assist, second, and to fortify those I had before
embraced.

But who 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 step to the corruption of manners is banishing of truth; for, as Pindar says, "To be sincerely "true is the beginning of a great virtue," and the first article that Plato requires in the government of his republic. The truth of these days is not that which really is such, but what every man persuades himself or another to believe; as we generally give the name of money, not only to lawful coin, but to the counterfeit also, if it be current. Our nation has

* Marot contre Sagoin.

long been reproached with this vice; for Salvianus Massiliensis, who lived in the time of the emperor Valentinian, says, "That lying and perjury is not a "vice with the French, but a way of speaking." Hethat would improve upon this testimony, might say, "That it is now a virtue with 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.

that men

proach of

I have often considered, whence comes this cus-Whence tom, that we so religiously observe, of being more it comes highly offended with the reproach of a vice so fami- are so stung liar to us than with any other, and that it should be with the rethe highest injury that can, in words, be done us, to being li reproach us with a lie: upon examination, I find, ars. that it is natural to disclaim those faults most, with which we are most tainted: it seems as if, by resenting and being moved at the accusation, we, in some sort, acquitted ourselves of the fault; if we are guilty of it in fact, we condemn it, at least in appearance may it also not be that this reproach seems to imply cowardice, and meanness of spirit? of which can there be a more manifest sign, than for a man to eat his own words? What, to lie against a man's own knowledge: lying is a base vice; a vice that one Lying an of the ancients paints in the most odious colours, of the con when he says, "That it is too manifest a contempt tempt of "of God, and a fear of man." It is not possible more copiously to represent the horror, baseness, and irregularity of it; for what can be imagined more vile, than a man, who is a coward towards man, so courageous as to defy his Maker? Our intelligence being by no other canal to be conveyed to one another but by words, he, who falsifies them, betrays public society: it is the only tube through which we communicate our thoughts and wills to one another; it is the interpreter of the soul, and, if it fails us, we no longer know, nor have any farther tie upon another if that deceive us, it breaks all our corres pondence, and dissolves all the bands of our govern

VOL. II.

2 B

argument

God.