INQUISITIVENESS.
The inhabitants of New England have the reputation of being inquisitive
to a fault; and perhaps with some justice. This disposition grows out
of a good trait of character, carried to an extreme. It comes from
a desire after knowledge. But this desire becomes excessive, when
exercised with reference to matters which it does not concern us to
know. When it leads us to pry into the concerns of others, from a mere
vain curiosity, it becomes a vice. There are some people who can never
be satisfied, till they _see the inside of every thing_. They must
know the why and the wherefore of every thing they meet with. I have
heard an amusing anecdote of this sort. There was a man who had lost
his nose. A _Yankee_, seeing him, desired to know how so strange a
thing had happened. After enduring his importunity for some time, the
man declared he would tell him, if he would promise to ask him no more
questions; to which the other agreed. “Well,” said the man, “_it_ _was
bit off_.” “Ah,” replied the Yankee, “_I wish I knew who bit it off!_”
This is a fair specimen of the morbid appetite created by excessive
inquisitiveness.
When inquisitiveness goes no farther than a strong desire to obtain
useful information, and to inquire into the reason of things, or when
it desires information concerning the affairs of others from benevolent
sympathy, then it is a valuable trait of character. But when the object
is to gratify an idle curiosity, it is annoying to others, and often
leads the person who indulges it into serious difficulty. And the more
it is indulged, the more it craves. If you gratify this disposition
till it grows into a habit, you will find it very difficult to control.
You will never be able to let any thing alone. You will want to look
into every drawer in the house; to open every bundle that you see;
and never be satisfied till you have seen the inside of every thing.
This will lead you into temptation. It can hardly be supposed that
one who is so anxious to _see_ every thing should have no desire to
_possess_ the things that are seen. Thus, what began in curiosity
may end in coveting and thieving. But if it does not lead you so far
astray as this, it will bring you into serious difficulty with your
parents, or your friends whose guest you are; for they will not be
satisfied to have their drawers tumbled, packages opened, and every
nice article fingered. This disposition, too, will lead you to inquire
into the secrets of your friends; and this will furnish a temptation
to tattling. What you have been at such pains to obtain, you will find
it difficult to keep to yourself. You will want to share the rare
enjoyment with others. And when the story comes round to your friend or
companion, whose confidence you have betrayed, you will, to your great
chagrin and mortification, be discarded. A delicate sense of propriety
will lead you to avoid prying too closely into the affairs of others.
You will never do it from mere curiosity. But if any of your friends
so far make you a confidant as to lead you to suppose that they need
your sympathy or aid, you may, in a delicate manner, inquire farther,
in order to ascertain what aid you can render. You may, also, make some
general inquiries of strangers, in order to show an interest in their
affairs. But beyond this, you cannot safely indulge this disposition.