To the Reader

[A] You have here, Reader, a book whose faith can be trusted, a

book which warns you from the start that I have set myself no other end but a

private family one. I have not been concerned to serve you nor my reputation: my

powers are inadequate for such a design. I have dedicated this book to the

private benefit of my friends and kinsmen so that, having lost me (as they must

do soon) they can find here again some traits of my character and of my humours.

They will thus keep their knowledge of me more full, more alive. If my design

had been to seek the favour of the world I would have decked myself out [C]

better and presented myself in a studied gait.

[A] Here I want to be seen in my simple, natural, everyday fashion,

without [C] striving A] or artifice: for it is my own self that I am painting. Here, drawn

from life, you will read of my defects and my native form so far as respect for

social convention allows: for had I found myself among those peoples who are

said still to live under the sweet liberty of Nature's primal laws, I

can assure you that I would most willingly have portrayed myself whole, and

wholly naked.

And therefore, Reader, I myself am the subject of my book: it is

not reasonable that you should employ your leisure on a topic so frivolous and

so vain.

Therefore, Farewell:

From Montaigne; this first of March, One