CODE OF THE YOUNG EGOTIST

Before he was summoned back to Lake Geneva, he had appeared, shy but

inwardly glowing, in his first long trousers, set off by a purple

accordion tie and a "Belmont" collar with the edges unassailably

meeting, purple socks, and handkerchief with a purple border peeping

from his breast pocket. But more than that, he had formulated his first

philosophy, a code to live by, which, as near as it can be named, was a

sort of aristocratic egotism.

He had realized that his best interests were bound up with those of a

certain variant, changing person, whose label, in order that his past

might always be identified with him, was Amory Blaine. Amory marked

himself a fortunate youth, capable of infinite expansion for good or

evil. He did not consider himself a "strong char'c'ter," but relied on

his facility (learn things sorta quick) and his superior mentality (read

a lotta deep books). He was proud of the fact that he could never

become a mechanical or scientific genius. From no other heights was he

debarred.

Physically.--Amory thought that he was exceedingly handsome. He was. He

fancied himself an athlete of possibilities and a supple dancer.

Socially.--Here his condition was, perhaps, most dangerous. He granted

himself personality, charm, magnetism, poise, the power of dominating

all contemporary males, the gift of fascinating all women.

Mentally.--Complete, unquestioned superiority.

Now a confession will have to be made. Amory had rather a Puritan

conscience. Not that he yielded to it--later in life he almost

completely slew it--but at fifteen it made him consider himself a

great deal worse than other boys... unscrupulousness... the desire

to influence people in almost every way, even for evil... a certain

coldness and lack of affection, amounting sometimes to cruelty... a

shifting sense of honor... an unholy selfishness... a puzzled, furtive

interest in everything concerning sex.

There was, also, a curious strain of weakness running crosswise through

his make-up... a harsh phrase from the lips of an older boy (older boys

usually detested him) was liable to sweep him off his poise into surly

sensitiveness, or timid stupidity... he was a slave to his own moods

and he felt that though he was capable of recklessness and audacity, he

possessed neither courage, perseverance, nor self-respect.

Vanity, tempered with self-suspicion if not self-knowledge, a sense of

people as automatons to his will, a desire to "pass" as many boys as

possible and get to a vague top of the world... with this background did

Amory drift into adolescence.

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Date: 2015-02-16; view: 718