Some opponent of Darwin attempted to convict him of egotism by counting the number of times that the pronoun “I” appears upon the first few pages of the “Origin of Species.” He was able to find a great many, and to cause Darwin, who was as modest a man as ever lived, to feel abashed at the showing; but it is doubtful if he convinced any reader of the book of the truth of the assertion. In fact, although the dictionary defines egotism as “the habit or practice of thinking and talking much of one’s self,” the use of the first-personal pronoun is hardly the essence of the matter. This use is always in some degree a self-assertion, but it has a disagreeable or egotistical effect only in so far as the self asserted is repellent to us. Even Montaigne, who says “I” on every other line, and whose avowed purpose is to display himself at large and in all possible detail, does not, it seems to me, really make an impression of egotism upon the congenial reader, because he contrives to make his self so interesting in every aspect that the more we are reminded of it the better we are pleased; and there is good sense in his doctrine that “not to speak roundly of a man’s self implies some lack of courage; a firm and lofty judgment, and that judges soundly and surely, makes use of his own example upon all occasions, as well as those of others.” A person will not displease sensible people by saying “I” so long as the self thus asserted stands for something, is a pertinent, significant “I,” and not merely a random self-intrusion. We are not displeased to see an athlete roll up his sleeves and show his muscles, although if a man of only ordinary development did so it would seem an impertinence; nor do we think less of Rembrandt for painting his own portrait every few months. The “I” should be functional, and so long as a man is functioning acceptably there can be no objection to his using it. Indeed, it is a common remark that the most delightful companions, or authors of books, are often the most egotistical in the sense that they are always talking about themselves. The reason for this is that if the “I” is interesting and agreeable we adopt it for the time being and make it our own. Then, being on the inside as it were, it is our own self that is so expansive and happy. We adopt Montaigne, or Lamb, or Thackeray, or Stevenson, or Whitman, or Thoreau, and think of their words as our words. Thus even extravagant self-assertion, if the reader can only be led to enter into it, may be congenial. There may be quite as much egotism in the suppression of “I” as in the use of it, and a forced and obvious avoidance of this pronoun often gives a disagreeable feeling of the writer’s self-consciousness. In short, egotism is a matter of character, not of forms of language, and if we are egotists the fact will out in spite of any conventional rules of decorum that we may follow.