“Non equidem hoc studeo, bullatis ut mihi nugis,
Pagina turgescat...... 
Secreti loquimur:” 

["I study not to make my pages swell with empty trifles;
you and I are talking in private.”—­Persius, Sat., v. 19.]

’tis for some corner of a library, or to entertain a neighbour, a kinsman, a friend, who has a mind to renew his acquaintance and familiarity with me in this image of myself.  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 the 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 they are nothing:  I do not find so much good in myself, that I cannot tell it without blushing.

What contentment would it not be to me to hear any one thus relate to me the manners, faces, countenances, the ordinary words and fortunes of my ancestors? how attentively should I listen to it!  In earnest, it would be evil nature to despise so much as the pictures of our friends and predecessors, the fashion of their clothes and arms.  I preserve their writing, seal, and a particular sword they wore, and have not thrown the long staves my father used to carry in his hand, out of my closet

          “Paterna vestis, et annulus, tanto charior est
          posteris, quanto erga parentes major affectus.”

     ["A father’s garment and ring is by so much dearer to his posterity,
     as there is the greater affection towards parents.” 
     —­St. Aug., De Civat.  Dei, i. 13.]

If my posterity, nevertheless, shall be of another mind, I shall be avenged on them; for they cannot care less for me than I shall then do for them.  All the traffic that I have in this with the public is, that I borrow their utensils of writing, which are more easy and most at hand; and in recompense shall, peradventure, keep a pound of butter in the market from melting in the sun:—­[Montaigne semi-seriously speculates on the possibility of his Ms. being used to wrap up butter.]

              “Ne toga cordyllis, ne penula desit olivis;
               Et laxas scombris saepe dabo tunicas;”

["Let not wrappers be wanting to tunny-fish, nor olives;
and I shall supply loose coverings to mackerel.” 
—­Martial, xiii.  I, I.]

And though nobody should read me, have I wasted time in entertaining myself so many idle hours in so pleasing and useful thoughts?  In moulding this figure 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