ABSENCE OF MIND.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1982, 1 July 1880, Page 3

ABSENCE OF MIND.

Absence of mind is a mental infirmity more often ridiculed than pitied, yet one that ia frequently seriously inconvenient to its possessor. Strom the philosopher of antiquity, who walks absently star-gazing till he fell into a well and was drowned, down to the absent man of our own day, who loses some important appointment by forgetting to change trains at the proper junction, absent persons have suffered from their unfortunate propensity for abstracting themselves from things present. It is curious that this failing is more common to clover persons than to foolish ones. People whose heads are comparatively empty cannot, perhaps, lose themselves in a train of thought so engrossing as to blot out other objects. Absence of mind generally proceeds from preoccupation. Sir Isaac Newton, when pondering on his great discoveries, had to rely on his servant whether he had dined or not. St. Thos. Aquinas fell into a theological reverie at the Royal table, and startled Louis XI. and his courtiers by suddenly exclaiming, “Thatargument is unanswerable against the Monichees.” A long list might be collected of great men who were remarkable for this failing, commenoing with the worst specimen, like St. Thomas, who became utter oblivious of their surroundings, down to the minor offenders, who only forgot some circumstance which made their remarks ill-timed. It is well known that Racine lost the favour of Madame de Maintonon, and consequently that of Louis XIT., by inadvertently alluding to “ those wretched plays of Scarron’s,” oblivious that he was speaking to the poet’s widow. According to Walpole, the Duchess of Marlborough never forgave Bishop Burnet for an unlucky speech to her husband, who remarked that he was “ surprised at so great a general as Bolisarius being abandoned.” “ Consider what a brimstone of a wife he had,” rejoined the good prelate, with unconscious satire. Few examples of this forgetfulness are more amusing than a modern instance related by the late Archbishop Sinclair, who speaks of an eccentric Scotch nobleman of the beginning of this century, who, dining at a house where the dinner waa extremely bad, forgot that he was not at home, and gravely apologised to his fellow guests for the badness of the repast, remarking that “ he supposed the cook was drunk again, and that the kitchen wench had dressed the dinner.” Equally delightful is the story of a lady who called at a house about two o’clock, expecting to share the midday meal, and, obliged to go without receiving the desired invitation, betrayed the current of her thoughts hy taking leave of her friend as

j “dear Mrs Luncheon.” It must be extremely inconvenient to be thus liable to betray what one thinks. Absent people aru perpetually affronting their friends who do not always believe that their unfortunate speeches are purely accidental', and not sarcastic. As a rule, absent men are the kindest-hearted creatures in the world, and most averse to giving annoyance to anyone; yet they will say the most terrible things in society, and tread on the tender feelings of their neighbors in a manner distressing to witness.—“ Globe.”