OFFENCES.
If the visits of an acquaintance become less frequent than formerly, the
falling off is not always to be imputed to want of regard for you, or to
having lost all pleasure in your society. The cause may be want of time,
removal to a distance, precarious health, care of children, absence from
town, family troubles, depressed fortunes, and various other
circumstances. Also, with none of these causes, visiting may gradually
and almost insensibly decline, and neither of the parties have the
slightest dislike to each other. If no offence has been intended, none
should be taken; and when you chance to meet, instead of consuming the
time in complaints of estrangement, meet as if your intercourse had
never been interrupted, and you will find it very easy to renew it; and
perhaps on a better footing than before. The renewal should be marked by
a prompt interchange of special invitations--followed by visits.
Unless your rooms are spacious, you cannot have what is called a large
general party. Some of your acquaintances must be omitted, and all that
are left out, are generally offended. Therefore it is not well ever to
have such parties, unless your accommodations are ample. _Squeezes_ are
out of fashion in the best American society. We have heard of parties at
great houses in London, where, after the rooms were crowded to
suffocation, a large portion of the company had to pass the evening on
the stairs; and where coaches, unable to draw up from the immense number
of these vehicles that were in advance, had to remain all night at the
foot of the line, with ladies sitting in them. When morning came, they
had to turn back, and drive home, the carriages being all they saw of
the party.
It is better to give two or three moderate entertainments in the course
of the season, than to crowd your rooms uncomfortably; and even then to
risk giving offence to those who could not be added to the number.
If such offence has been given, try to atone for it by inviting the
offended to dine with you, or to pass an evening, and asking at the same
time a few pleasant people whom you know she likes.
You may have a very intimate and sincere friend who does not find it
convenient to send for you every time she has company. If, in all things
else, she treats you with uniform kindness, and gives reason to believe
that she has a true affection for you, pass over these occasional
omissions of invitation, and do not call her to account, or treat her
coolly when you see her. True friendship ought not depend upon
_parties_. It should be based on a better foundation.
If no answer is returned to a note of invitation, be not hasty in
supposing that the omission has sprung from rudeness or neglect. Trust
that your friend is neither rude nor neglectful; and believe that the
answer was duly sent, but that it miscarried from some accidental
circumstance.
A friend may inadvertently say something that you do not like to hear,
or may make a remark that is not pleasant to you. Unless it is prefaced
with a _previous_ apology; or unless she desires you "not to be offended
at what she is going to say;" or unless she informs you that "she
considers it her duty always to speak her mind,"--you have no right to
suppose the offence premeditated, and therefore you should restrain your
temper, and calmly endeavour to convince her that she is wrong; or else
acknowledge that she is right. She ought then to apologize for what she
said, and you should immediately change the subject, and never again
refer to it. In this way quarrels may be prevented, and ill-feeling
crushed in the bud. When what is called "a coolness" takes place between
friends, the longer it goes on the more difficult it is to get over. But
"better late than never." If, on consideration, you find that _you_ were
in the wrong, let no false pride, no stubborn perverseness prevent you
from making that acknowledgement. If your friend, on her part, first
shows a desire for reconciliation, meet her half-way. A vindictive
disposition is a bad one, and revenge is a most unchristian feeling.
People of sense (unless the injury is very great, and of lasting
consequences) are easy to appease, because they generally have good
feelings, and know how to listen to reason. Dr. Watts most truly says--
"The wise will let their anger cool,
At least before 'tis night;
But in the bosom of a fool,
It burns till morning light."
Should you chance to be thrown into the presence of persons who have
proved themselves your enemies, and with whom you can have no
intercourse, say nothing either _to_ them or _at_ them; and do not place
yourself in their vicinity. To talk _at_ a person, is mean and vulgar.
Those who do it are fully capable of writing anonymous and insulting
letters; and they often do so. High-minded people will always be
scrupulously careful in observing toward those with whom they are at
variance, all the ceremonies usual in polite society--particularly the
conventional civilities of the table.
If you have, unfortunately, had a quarrel with a friend, talk of it to
others as little as possible; lest in the heat of anger, you may give an
exaggerated account, and represent your adversary in darker colours than
she deserves. You may be very sure these misrepresentations will reach
her ear, and be greatly magnified by every successive relater. In this
way a trifle may be swelled into importance; a mole-hill may become a
mountain; and a slight affront may embitter the feelings of future
years. "Blessed are the peacemakers,"--and a mutual friend, if
well-disposed toward both opponents, generally has it in her power to
effect a reconciliation, by repeating, kindly, any favourable remark
she may chance to have heard one of the offended parties make on the
other. In truth, we wish it were the universal custom for all people to
tell other people whatever good they may hear of them--instead of the
wicked and hateful practice of telling only the bad. Make it a rule to
repeat to your friends all the pleasant remarks that (as far as you
know) are made on them, and you will increase their happiness, and your
own popularity. We do not mean that you should flatter them, by reciting
compliments that are not true; but truth is not flattery, and there is
no reason why agreeable truths should not always be told. There would
then be far more kind feeling in the world. Few persons are so bad as
not to have some good in them. Let them hear of the good. Few are so
ugly as not to have about them something commendable even externally, if
it is only a becoming dress. Let them hear of that dress. Flattery is
praise without foundation. To tell a person with heavy, dull gray eyes,
that her eyes are of a bright and beautiful blue; to talk of her golden
locks to a woman with positive red hair of the tint called carroty; to
tell a long, thin, stoop-shouldered girl, that she possesses the light
and airy form of a sylph; or a short-necked, fat one that her figure has
the dignity of an empress; to assure a faded matron that she looks like
a young girl; to fall into raptures on listening to bad music, or when
viewing a drawing that depicts nothing intelligible; or praising album
poetry that has neither "rhyme nor reason,"--all this is gross
flattery, which the object (if she has any sense) will easily detect,
and suspect that you are trying experiments on her vanity and credulity.
Still where agreeable qualities _really_ exist, it is not amiss to
allude to them delicately. It will give pleasure without compromising
veracity.
When any thing complimentary is said to you, acknowledge it by a bow and
smile, but do not attempt an answer unless you can say something in
return that will be equally sincere and pleasant. Most probably you
cannot; therefore look gratified, and bow your thanks, but remain
silent. Few ladies are distinguished, like the Harriet Byron of
Grandison, "for a very pretty manner of returning a compliment." Do not
reject the compliment by pretending to prove that you do not deserve it.
But if it is a piece of bare-faced flattery, the best answer is to look
gravely, and say or do nothing.
Should you chance accidentally to overhear a remark to your
disadvantage, consider first if there may not be some truth in it. If
you feel that there is, turn it to profitable account, and try to
improve, or to get rid of the fault, whatever it may be. But never show
resentment at any thing not intended for your ear, unless it is
something of such vital importance as to render it necessary that you
should come forward in self-defence. These instances, however, are of
rare occurrence.
If you are so placed that you can hear the conversation of persons who
are talking about you, it is very mean to sit there and listen.
Immediately remove to a distance far enough to be out of hearing.
It is a proverb that listeners seldom hear any good of themselves. It
were a pity if they should. Eavesdropping or listening beneath an open
window, the crack of a door, or through a key-hole, are as dishonourable
as to pick pockets.