I have mentioned good humor as one of the preservatives of our peace
and tranquillity. It is among the most effectual, and its effect is so
well imitated and aided, artificially, by politeness that this also
becomes an acquisition of first-rate value. In truth, politeness is
artificial good humor; it covers the natural want of it, and ends by
rendering habitual a substitute nearly equivalent to the real virtue.
It is the practise of sacrificing to those whom we meet in society all
the little conveniences and preferences which will gratify them, and
deprive us of nothing worth a moment's consideration; it is the giving
a pleasing and flattering turn to our expressions, which will
conciliate others, and make them pleased with us as well as
themselves. How cheap a price for the good will of another! When this
is in return for a rude thing said by another, it brings him to his
senses, it mortifies and corrects him in the most salutary way, and
places him at the feet of your good nature in the eyes of the company.
[Footnote 34: From a letter to Thomas Jefferson Randolph, dated
Washington, Nov. 24, 1808.]
But in stating prudential rules for our government in society I must
not omit the important one of never entering into dispute or argument
with another. I never saw an instance of one of two disputants
convincing the other by argument. I have seen many, on their getting
warm, becoming rude, and shooting one another. Conviction is the
effect of our own dispassionate reasoning, either in solitude, or
weighing within ourselves, dispassionately, what we hear from others,
standing uncommitted in argument ourselves. It was one of the rules
which, above all others, made Doctor Franklin the most amiable of men
in society "never to contradict anybody." If he was urged to announce
an opinion, he did it rather by asking questions, as if for
information, or by suggesting doubts. When I hear another express an
opinion which is not mine, I say to myself he has a right to his
opinion, as I to mine; why should I question it? His error does me no
injury, and shall I become a Don Quixote, to bring all men by force of
argument to one opinion? If a fact be misstated, it is probable he is
gratified by a belief of it, and I have no right to deprive him of the
gratification. If he wants information, he will ask it, and then I
will give it in measured terms; but if he still believes his own
story, and shows a desire to dispute the fact with me, I hear him and
say nothing. It is his affair, not mine, if he prefers error.
There are two classes of disputants most frequently to be met with
among us. The first is of young students, just entered the threshold
of science, with a first view of its outlines, not yet filled up with
the details and modifications which a further progress would bring to
their knowledge. The other consists of the ill-tempered and rude men
in society, who have taken up a passion for politics. (Good humor and
politeness never introduce into mixt society a question on which they
foresee there will be a difference of opinion.) From both of those
classes of disputants, my dear Jefferson, keep aloof as you would from
the infected subjects of yellow fever or pestilence. Consider
yourself, when with them, as among the patients of Bedlam, needing
medical more than moral counsel. Be a listener only, keep within
yourself, and endeavor to establish with yourself the habit of
silence, especially on politics. In the fevered state of our country
no good can ever result from any attempt to set one of these fiery
zealots to rights, either in fact or principle. They are determined as
to the facts they will believe, and the opinions on which they will
act. Get by them, therefore, as you would by an angry bull; it is not
for a man of sense to dispute the road with such an animal.