All is vanity and everybody's vain.Women are terribly vain.So are men--more so,if possible.So are children,particularly children.
One of them at this very moment is hammering upon my legs.She wants to know what I think of her new shoes.Candidly I don't think much of them.They lack symmetry and curve and possess an indescribable appearance of lumpiness (I believe,too,they've put them on the wrong feet).But I don't say this.It is not criticism,but flattery that she wants;and I gush over them with what I feel to myself to be degrading effusiveness.Nothing else would satisfy this self-opinionated cherub.I tried the conscientious-friend dodge with her on one occasion,but it was not a success.She had requested my judgment upon her general conduct and behavior,the exact case submitted being,"Wot oo tink of me?Oo peased wi'me?"and I had thought it a good opportunity to make a few salutary remarks upon her late moral career,and said:"No,I am not pleased with you."Irecalled to her mind the events of that very morning,and I put it to her how she,as a Christian child,could expect a wise and good uncle to be satisfied with the carryings on of an infant who that very day had roused the whole house at five AM.;had upset a water-jug and tumbled downstairs after it at seven;had endeavored to put the cat in the bath at eight;and sat on her own father's hat at nine thirty-five.
What did she do?Was she grateful to me for my plain speaking?Did she ponder upon my words and determine to profit by them and to lead from that hour a better and nobler life?
No!she howled.
That done,she became abusive.She said:
"Oo naughty--oo naughty,bad unkie--oo bad man--me tell MAR."And she did,too.
Since then,when my views have been called for I have kept my real sentiments more to myself like,preferring to express unbounded admiration of this young person's actions,irrespective of their actual merits.And she nods her head approvingly and trots off to advertise my opinion to the rest of the household.She appears to employ it as a sort of testimonial for mercenary purposes,for Isubsequently hear distant sounds of "Unkie says me dood dirl--me dot to have two bikkies [biscuits]."There she goes,now,gazing rapturously at her own toes and murmuring "pittie"--two-foot-ten of conceit and vanity,to say nothing of other wickednesses.
They are all alike.I remember sitting in a garden one sunny afternoon in the suburbs of London.Suddenly I heard a shrill treble voice calling from a top-story window to some unseen being,presumably in one of the other gardens,"Gamma,me dood boy,me wery good boy,gamma;me dot on Bob's knickiebockies."Why,even animals are vain.I saw a great Newfoundland dog the other day sitting in front of a mirror at the entrance to a shop in Regent's Circus,and examining himself with an amount of smug satisfaction that I have never seen equaled elsewhere outside a vestry meeting.
I was at a farm-house once when some high holiday was being celebrated.I don't remember what the occasion was,but it was something festive,a May Day or Quarter Day,or something of that sort,and they put a garland of flowers round the head of one of the cows.Well,that absurd quadruped went about all day as perky as a schoolgirl in a new frock;and when they took the wreath off she became quite sulky,and they had to put it on again before she would stand still to be milked.This is not a Percy anecdote.It is plain,sober truth.
As for cats,they nearly equal human beings for vanity.I have known a cat get up and walk out of the room on a remark derogatory to her species being made by a visitor,while a neatly turned compliment will set them purring for an hour.
I do like cats.They are so unconsciously amusing.There is such a comic dignity about them,such a "How dare you!""Go away,don't touch me"sort of air.Now,there is nothing haughty about a dog.They are "Hail,fellow,well met"with every Tom,Dick,or Harry that they come across.When I meet a dog of my acquaintance I slap his head,call him opprobrious epithets,and roll him over on his back;and there he lies,gaping at me,and doesn't mind it a bit.
Fancy carrying on like that with a cat!Why,she would never speak to you again as long as you lived.No,when you want to win the approbation of a cat you must mind what you are about and work your way carefully.If you don't know the cat,you had best begin by saying,"Poor pussy."After which add "did 'ums"in a tone of soothing sympathy.You don't know what you mean any more than the cat does,but the sentiment seems to imply a proper spirit on your part,and generally touches her feelings to such an extent that if you are of good manners and passable appearance she will stick her back up and rub her nose against you.Matters having reached this stage,you may venture to chuck her under the chin and tickle the side of her head,and the intelligent creature will then stick her claws into your legs;and all is friendship and affection,as so sweetly expressed in the beautiful lines--"I love little pussy,her coat is so warm,And if I don't tease her she'll do me no harm;So I'll stroke her,and pat her,and feed her with food,And pussy will love me because I am good."The last two lines of the stanza give us a pretty true insight into pussy's notions of human goodness.it is evident that in her opinion goodness consists of stroking her,and patting her,and feeding her with food.I fear this narrow-minded view of virtue,though,is not confined to pussies.We are all inclined to adopt a similar standard of merit in our estimate of other people.A good man is a man who is good to us,and a bad man is a man who doesn't do what we want him to.
