Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

Thackerayin-law, sons, daughters, old footman or parlor-maid,confidential clerk, curate, or what not? I smirk and gothrough the history, giving my admirable imitations ofthe characters introduced: I mimic Jones’s grin, Hobbs’ssquint, Brown’s stammer, Grady’s brogue, Sandy’s Scotchaccent, to the best of my power: and, the family part ofmy audience laughs good-humoredly. Perhaps thestranger, for whose amusement the performance is given,is amused by it and laughs too. But this practice continuedis not moral. This self-indulgence on your part,my dear Paterfamilias, is weak, vain—not to say culpable.I can imagine many a worthy man, who beginsunguardedly to read this page, and comes to the presentsentence, lying back in his chair, thinking of that storywhich he has told innocently for fifty years, and ratherpiteously owning to himself, “Well, well, it is wrong; Ihave no right to call on my poor wife to laugh, mydaughters to affect to be amused, by that old, old jestof mine. And they would have gone on laughing, andthey would have pretended to be amused, to their dyingday, if this man had not flung his damper over ourhilarity.” … I lay down the pen, and think, “Are thereany old stories which I still tell myself in the bosom ofmy family? Have I any ‘Grouse in my gun-room?’” Ifthere are such, it is because my memory fails; not becauseI want applause, and wantonly repeat myself. Yousee, men with the so-called fund of anecdote will notrepeat the same story to the same individual; but theydo think that, on a new party, the repetition of a jokeever so old may be honorably tried. I meet men walkingthe London street, bearing the best reputation, men ofanecdotal powers:—I know such, who very likely willread this, and say, “Hang the fellow, he means me!”And so I do. No—no man ought to tell an anecdotemore than thrice, let us say, unless he is sure he isspeaking only to give pleasure to his hearers—unlesshe feels that it is not a mere desire for praise whichmakes him open his jaws.And is it not with writers as with raconteurs? Oughtthey not to have their ingenuous modesty? May authorstell old stories, and how many times over? When Icome to look at a place which I have visited any time171