xxiv CHARACTER OF
This, I confess candidly, is what I think of my outward man ; and what I have said of myself will not, I consider, be found different from the reality. I shall endeavor to finish my portrait with the same fidelity ; for I have studied myself sufficiently to be well acquainted with myself, and shall not want assurance enough to speak openly of any good qualities I may have, nor sincerity enough frankly to acknowledge my faults. First, then, as to my temper am of a melancholy cast ; so much so that, in the course of three or four years, I have not been seen to laugh about three or four times. It seems to me, however, that i melancholy would be quite supportable, and even agreeable if it only proceeded from my constitution ; but there i so many other causes which fill my imagination with strange ideas, and take possession of my mind in so singu- lar a manner, that the greater part of my time I remain in a kind of dream, without uttering a syllable, or else I at- tach no meaning to what I do say. I am very reserved with strangers ; and I am not extremely open even with the generality of those I do know. It is a fault, I acknowl- edge ; and I vnll do every thing to correct it. But, a certain sombre cast of countenance contributes to make seem more reserved than I really am, and as it is nol our power to get rid of a disagreeable look proceeding fr the natural disposition of the features, I conceive that, ei after I shall have corrected myself within, the same I marks will, nevertheless, be always apparent outside. I am clever ; and I make no scruple of declaring it ; j why should I be delicate thereon ? Going about the bi and softening down so much the assertion of the qualil
/ I we possess is, in my way of thinking, hiding a little van / under the mask of modesty, and slyly endeavoring to mi ( ourselves appear to have more merit than the world ]
