3 OCTOBER 1891, Page 12

THE EVOLUTION OF THE BORE.

IT is yet a moot question whether the bore is made, or whether he is born,—whether, that is to say, he is des- tined from his birth upwards to be the scourge of his fellow- creatures, or whether that unhappy function has been forced upon him by the untoward circumstances of his education and his surroundings. "Unhappy," perhaps, is hardly the word to use, for he himself is supremely unconscious of the part that he plays in the world, and the unhappiness is all upon the side of his victims. Did he realise for one short moment the sufferings that he was called upon to inflict, it is certain that he would cease from being a bore, or, if that were impossible, that he would shrink and depart from this life altogether. Utter unconsciousness of the effects that he produces, is the very essence of the bore's existence. For this reason it is that most people will maintain that the bore is born ; for it does not seem possible to them that any man can so artificially harden his heart, or so blind his eyes to the obvious tortures that his presence and his conversation inflict. For our part, we believe that the real bore is both born and made. No one, for example, however propitious the surrounding atmosphere, can become a full-blown bore without having some inherited quality that predisposes him to that consummation ; nor, on the other hand, can it be possible for any one man to be so full of original sin as to become a bore without the training and provocation of his early and late surroundings. What, then, is the natural and inherited quality ? We believe that it simply consists in this,—that the bore, like Mr. Kipling's monkey, has been born with too much ego in his Cosmos. There is too much self in his world, and when that self is developed by education and swollen by sub- sequent circumstances, it becomes so portentously large, that its owner is apt to believe that the world is all himself—and a few insignificant phenomena that only can become important in so far as they reflect that self, or illustrate and glorify its being. Every bore is selfish,—otherwise he would be more conscious of other people's sufferings. Every selfish man is not a bore. Therefore the real and genuine bore is a selfish man, and something else besides. To illustrate the meaning of our theory, we cannot do better than turn to the particular class of men who have suggested this investigation,—namely, the Anglo-Indians. Not many days ago, there appeared in the columns of the Times a letter from an "Indian Civilian," who seemed disposed to quarrel with his fellow-countrymen at home because he conceived that they did not properly appreciate the importance of himself and his colleagues. There was a good deal of reason in his complaint, in that English people who stay at home are rather wont to be incurious about everything outside the shores of England, and to show an exasperating indifference towards all questions that do not immediately affect their own interests. Also, -there was a good deal of truth in the rejoinder that was promptly made in the English Press, to the effect that Anglo- Indians were generally bores, and, as a rule, courted the snubbing that was not unfrequently inflicted on them. Now, India is a very hot-bed for the production and propagation of bores. And why? Because in no other country, perhaps, in the world does the selfish man have so fair a chance of developing his very worst and most noxious qualities. By examining, therefore, the evolution of the Anglo-Indian bore, we may arrive at a fair idea of the first rise and progress of the bore in general.

Let there be no misunderstanding. We have no intention of suggesting that the "Indian Civilian" who wrote that particular letter to the Times was a bore ; on the contrary, it is highly probable that he was not, otherwise he would have shown himself less thin-skinned with regard to the- slights of which he complains. Nor would we for a moment suggest that all Anglo-Indians are bores, or even that the majority of them are bores ; we simply say, India is the most favourable place for developing the latent and essential quality that changes selfish man into a bore of the first order. And by a selfish man, we mean one who considers himself not only too much, but also too highly. At home among his equals and his betters, such a man would very likely pass for a fool, and being often convinced of his folly, might at last come to believe in- it himself, and abate his pretensions to the

notice of wiser men. Out in India, though he may pass for a fool among his colleagues, there is, unfortunately, a very large majority of the community who are pleased to let him pass for anything that he 'chooses, and to take him cheerfully at his own valuation. It can hardly be wondered at that, under such circumstances, his sense of proportion gets twisted, and his sense of his own importance becomes unduly inflated. It may be true that his English colleagues have the poorest opinion of his abilities, and do not scruple to display it. But then, on the other hand, there are some million, let us say, of dusky natives who, whatever they may think of him, are obliged to accept his opinions as they accept his rule, because they can make no protest ; and some dozens of educated Baboos, the mouthpieces of the natives in question, who find it greatly to their advantage to swing the censer of flattery before him, and burn the incense of deference and obedience. Such a man, if he starts in life with too much ego in his composition, is sure to be soon and irremediably convinced of his greatness and superiority. He returns to his native country, and falls back like a pail of water into the ocean. In its former place, the water was important, and filled the bucket ; in the ocean, it is but a drop that is lost amidst countless millions of others. Hence it comes about that his first and most pressing duty in life is to explain who he is ; and hence it is that it becomes the most pressing desire of those who surround him to avoid both him and his explanations. All things considered, it says much for the character of the ordinary run of Anglo-Indians that the bores among them are not more numerous than they are. To give him his due, the Anglo-Indian bore is never so virulent as the purely English and home-bred one. 'The latter, to begin with, has rarely so good an excuse, and consequently must have started with more than the ordinary share of selfish- ness. There are bores to be met with of every conceivable kind and variety, but in every case it will be found that egotism, combined with stupidity or with the unfortunate results of an early training, is at the bottom of their failing. The true egoist cannot conceive of the world, or of any of the contents of the world, as existing apart from himself. Let us suppose that he has become a total abstainer, and is convinced of the truth and righteousness of Sir Wilfrid Lawson's doctrines. The great light may only have reached his own mind yester- day, but it is a matter of genuine surprise to him that it has not reached everybody's mind to-day. The doctrine must be true, or he would not believe it ; and he is convinced that, if he can only succeed in persuading other people that he does believe it, and that it has his sanction, they will believe it also. It is for the moment the most interesting question to him ; therefore it must be the most interesting question in the world ; therefore it is the only one that is worth talking about ; and therefore he does talk about it with a deadly per- sistence,—everywhere, and at all times, in season and out of season, and to the awful discomfort of those listeners whom he overtakes. The man has so much ego in his Cosmos, that he cannot even imagine any suffering, any pleasure, any interest in which be does not share ; he cannot believe that another man suffers from that which gladdens his own heart, that there can be any real pleasure outside his company and his conversation, or that any one can fail to take an interest in what he finds to be all-absorbing. The bore is bad enough when he is possessed of a fad, but perhaps the bore who has no prevailing idea is even worse. The former may be tolerable as long as he is prevented from mounting his hobby ; the latter is never tolerable. There is no good in him,—no, not one redeeming feature. When he talks, it is of himself only, and of everything as it concerns or is related to himself ; when he is silent, his very silence is maddening, on account of the serene air of self-absorption and self-complacency with which it is surrounded. He is his own world ; all the rest of the world exists for him solely, and apart from him has no separate existence. In one sense, he is indeed totus, teres, ague rotundus. Moreover, the creature is invulnerable ; to contradict him merely shows that you are ignorant ; slight him, and he will be mildly astonished ; insult him, and he will be convinced that you are mad ; add injury to the insult, and he will forgive you for pity of your madness. Never by any human means can he be brought to entertain the idea that others do not envy and consider him as he admires and considers himself.

Granted that a man can inherit by birth an overpowering

tendency to consider and esteem himself to the exclusion of all his surroundings, it is not difficult to imagine the process 1by which such a man is developed into the bore. That tendency may be accompanied by a natural density and slow- ness of wit and comprehension that prevent him from seeing things in their right proportion, and correcting his mistaken .estimation : this is the case of the dull and stupid bore, the most deplorable and the most incurable case, in that for him there is no hope of salvation, should his unhappy qualities have .survived the ordeal of school-life, and he is destined by reason of his very stupidity to believe in his wisdom to the end of his .days. On the other hand, the tendency may be found in a really clever and brilliant man, who yet becomes a bore in spite of his better judgment. It is to be feared that he is not always quite blind to his peculiar failing; he cannot help suspecting that he and his ideas are not welcomed with the warmth that they deserve ; nevertheless, self comes gallantly to his rescue, and self-estimation and vanity com- bine to beat down the doubts that his intelligence raises. He knows that he is very clever, and he believes that he is very agreeable ; it is easier for him to despise the opinion of those who seem to differ from him in those two points, than to alter his own. Also, he is not a little callous to the suffering of others, and he would rather please himself by dilating on his favourite topic and boring them, than forego that pleasure in order to relieve them from their pain. Early surroundings and education have, of course, much to answer for : the fond worship of foolish parents, pitiful successes at school and college, and the admiration of undiscriminating friends, have served to turn into bores men that would otherwise have met a better fate. But in every case it will be found that the element of selfishness is at the bottom of their failing, and that if that element could only be stamped out, the bore would -cease from boring. Unfortunately, for that there is no remedy short of a surgical operation. After all, bores have their .place in the system of things, and probably serve the pur- poses for which they were created,—though, as in the case of gnats and mosquitoes, one is rather apt to wonder what possible good they can have been intended to fulfil.