The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1880-05-07
Philosophy in Growing Old.
From One of Thackeray's Essays in Punch
80 Years Ago.


ton of mind, who go about in the world much,
should remember to efface themselves-if |
may use French phrase-they should not,
that is to say, thrust in their old ways on all
occasions. When the people are marching out
to dinner, for instance, aud the captain is
siding up to Miss Fogy, because he is 20 years
older than the captain he should not push
himself forward to arrest that young fellow,
and carry off the disappointed girl on his su-
perannuated, rheumatic old elbow. When
there is anything of this sort going on (and a
man of the world has possession of the carte du
pays with half an eye) become interested in
a picture, and have something particular to
say to pretty Polly, the parrot or to little Tom
my, who is not coming in to dinner, and,
while am talking to him, miss and the cap
tain make their little arrangement. In this
way / managed only last week to let the young
Ellington and the lovely Blanche Pouter get
together, and walked down stairs with my hat
for the only partner of my arm. Augustus
Toplady now, because he was captain of the
dragons almost before young Ellington was
born would have insisted upon his right of
precedence over Ellington, who only got his
troop the other day.
Precedence! Fiddlestck! Men squabble
about precedence because they are doubtful
about their condition, as Irishmen will insist
upon it that you are determined to insult and
trample upon their beautiful country, whether
you are thinking about it or no. Men young to
the world mistrust the bearing of others toward
them because they mistrust themselves. have
seen many sneaks and much cringing, of
course, in the world, but the fault of gentle
folks is generally the ,contrary-an absurd
doubt of the intentions of others toward us,
and perpetual assertion of our two-penny
dignity, which nobody is thinking of wound
ing.
AS a young man, if the lord knew did not
happen to notice me, the next time met him
I used to envelop myself in my dignity and
treat his lordship with such tremendous hau-
teur and killing GOODNESS of demeanor, that
you might have fancied was an earl at least,
and he menial upon whom l trampled.
Whereas, he was simple, good-natured crea-
ture who had no idea of insulting or sighting
me, and indeed, scarcely any idea about any
subject except racing and shooting. Young
they are thinking about themselves. Fogies
are happy and tranquil because thev are taking
advantage of and enjoying without suspicion
the good nature and good offices of other we'll
bred people.
Have you not often wished for yourself or
some other dear friend ten thousand a year? 1t
is natural that you should like such q good
thing as ten thousand year, and all the
pleasures and comforts which it brings. So,
also, it is natural that man should like the
society of people well-to-do in the world, who
make their homes pleasant; who gather pleas
ant persons about them; who have fine pictures
on their walls, pleasant books in their libraries,
pleasant parks, and town and country houses,
good cooks and good cellars. If 1 were coming
to dine with you, | would rather have a good
dinner than bad one; if so-and-so is as good
as you, and possesses these things, he, in so
far, is better than you who do not possess
them; therefore had rather go to his house in
Belgravia than to your lodgings in Kentish
town. That is the rationale of living in good
company An absurd, conceited, bigh-and-
mighty young man hangs back, at once bashful
and insolent; an honest, simple, easy, clear
sighted fogy steps in and takes the goods which
the gods provide, without elation as without
squeamishness.
1t is only a few men who attain simplicity in
early life. This man has conceited self-impor-
tance to be cured of; that has his conceited
bashfulness to be "taken out of him. as the
phrase is. You have a disquiet which you
try to hide, and you put on a naughty, guarded
manner. You are suspicious of the goodwill
of the company round about you, or of the esti-
nation in which they hold you. You sit mum
at table. 1t is not your place to put yourself
forward. You are thinking about yourself;
that is, you are suspicious about that parsonage
ana sa E sSS that is you not
you arc not agreeable. L would in
stance my young friend Mumford as
rrl Ii Af rryi4t Inst
cheeriest, cleverest and most honest OF
fellows in his own circle; but having the hon
or to dine the other day at Mr.. Hobansh's
where his excellency, the Crimean minister
and several gentlemen OF honor and wit were
assembled, Mr. Mumford did not open his
mouth once for the purposes of conversation,
but sat and ate his dinner as silently as broth
er of La Trappe.
He was thinking with too much distrust of
himself (and of others by consequence.) When
Mumford is an honest fogy, like some folks, he
will neither distrust his host or his company
or himself: he will make the best of the hour
and the people round about him; he will come
tumbling over head and heels for his dinner,
and he will take and give his part of the good
things, join in the talk, and laugh unaffected
ly, nay, actually tumble over head and heels,
if he has talent that way; not from wish to
show off his powers, but from sheer good hu-
NOR and desire to oblige. Whether as guest or
as entertainer, your part and business in socie-
W
as you can; the master gives you his best
wine and welcome; you give in your turn, a
smiling face, disposition to please and be
pleased; and, my good young friend who read
this, don't doubt about yourself or think about
your precious person. " hen yon have got
on your best coat and waistcoat, and have your
dandy shirt and tie arranged, consider these as
so many settled things, and go forward and
through your business.
That is why people in what is called the great
world are commonly better bred than persons
less fortunate in their condition; not that they
are better in reality, but from circumstances,
they are never uneasy about their position in
the world; therefore they are more honest and
simple; therefore they are better bred than
Growler, who ScowlS at the great man a def
| ance and a determination that he will not be
| trampled upon; or poor Fawner, who goes
quivering down on his knees and licks my
| lords shoes. But 1 think in our word-at
| least in my experience-there are even more
| Growers than Fawners.
1t will be seen by the above remarks that a
desire to shine, or desire to occupy marked
| place in society does not constitute my idea oi
| happiness, or become the character of dis
Greet fogy. Time, which has dimmed the lus-
| tire of his waistcoats, allayed the violence oi
! his feelings, and sobered down his head with
gray, should give to the whole of his life a
| quiet neutral tinge; out of which calm and
| reposeful condition the honest old fogy looks
| on the world, and the struggle there of women
| and men, doubt whether this is not better
| than struggling yourself, for you preserve your
| interest, and do not lose your temper. Sue
| ceeding? What is the great use of succeeding?
| Failing? Where is the great harm? 1t seems
| to you matter of vast interest," at one time ol
| your life. whether you shall be lieutenant
| or colonel-whether you shall or shall not
| be invited to the duchess's party-whether you
| shall get the place you and hundred Others
| are trying for-whether Miss - will have
| you or not; what the deuce does it all matter a
| few years afterward? Do you, Jones, mean to
| intimate desire that history should occupy
| herself with your paltry personality? The
| future does not care whether you were cap
| tain or a private soldier. You get card to
the duchess's party; it is no more or less than
| ball or breakfast like other balls or break
fasts. You are half distracted because mis-:
! won't have you, and takes the other fellow, ol
| you get her (as L did Mrs. Pacifico), and fnd
| that she is quite different thing from wha
| you expected. Psha! These things appear a:
naught-when time passes-time the consolel
| time the anodyne-time the gray satirist
whose sad smile seems to say, Look, o man, al
| the vanity of the objects you pursue, and o.
| yourself who pursue them
| But, on the other hand, if there is an alloJ
in all success, is there not something whole
some in all disappointment? To endeavor tC
| regard them both benevolently is the task of {
| philosopher; and he who can do so is very