In the 17th Century, a fashionable pastime in high society was writing portraits of oneself and others. French writer François VI, Duc de la Rochefoucauld (1613-1680) begins his self-portrait with a physical description:
"[I] am of medium height, well set-up and proportioned, by complexion
dark but fairly uniform . . ."1
As for myself, I am of short height, slight of build, my complexion
light, having exchanged the freckles of my youth for large, noticeable pores.
Despite gaining flab around my middle, my cheeks remain drawn. My hair is not as
red as it once was, and my blue eyes are bloodshot from too much time staring at a
computer screen. I am no great looker, but a strong jawline, prominent nose and broad shoulders have served me well enough with the
fairer sex, even if I have never been a ladies' man.
"My expression has something melancholy and aloof about it
which makes most people think I am supercilious . . ."2
My expression is often blank and reticent, which combined
with my unobtrusive manner makes people think me uncaring or dismissive even
when I am not--although often I really don’t
care about certain acquaintances. I imagine my face is also often melancholy and
plaintive, but who knows how I look to others? Behind my eyes, I am simply
baffled or dismayed by just about everything.
"[I] am not given to muddled thinking, yet I am so
preoccupied with my gloomy thoughts that I often express my ideas very badly .
. ."3
“Gloomy thoughts” are my constant companions. Like the
Furies beleaguering Orestes, they drive me through each day, but this is
alleviated somewhat of late. Perhaps my intellectual adventurousness has laid
some burdensome questions to rest, or perhaps life has simply prepared a more
comfortable situation for me midway along the natural lifespan. At the moment,
my family and I enjoy a home that is more happy than not, and I hope this will
continue for some time.
"I am fond of all kinds of reading, but especially that in
which there is something to train the mind and toughen the soul . . ."4
Despite having traveled much of the world and tried many
exotic pastimes, I currently lead an exceedingly sedentary, isolated and
bookish lifestyle. I work long hours at home, and late at night when the work
is done, I am back in my study, at my desk writing or reading. This has
resulted in regular blog posts the past year, but I long for more activity. Should
the right situation present itself, I will throw myself into it gamely.
I have no outstanding success or worldly riches of which to
boast, but I take my work seriously and I have been rewarded with a small name
for myself in my precise field. At this point, the career I have is likely to
be the one I keep, with the lofty dreams of my earlier years further and
further out of reach, but by the time you reach this age, you begin to accept that
while life still holds plenty of possibilities, they are fast giving ground to
established realities.
To conclude, I return to La Rochefoucauld once more:
"That, in plain terms, is what I believe I am like . . . and
I think it will be found that my own opinion of myself in this respect is not
far from the truth."5
***
1. La Rochefoucauld. Trans. Leonard Tancock. Maxims (London, England: Penguin Books, 1959), 25.
2. Ibid., 25.
3. Ibid., 26-27.
4. Ibid., 27.
5. Ibid., 25.
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