After Emanuel had finally occupied Mansoul he gave
the citizens some advice. The policy of Diabolus
was “to make of their castle a warehouse.”
Emanuel made it a fortress and a palace, and garrisoned
the town. “O my Mansoul,” he said,
“nourish my captains; make not my captains sick,
O Mansoul.”
A notion, self-begotten in me, of the limitations
of my friend is answerable for the barrenness of my
intercourse with him. I set him down as hard;
I speak to him as if he were hard and from that which
is hard in myself. Naturally I evoke only that
which is hard, although there may be fountains of
tenderness in him of which I am altogether unaware.
It is far better in conversation not to regulate it
according to supposed capacities or tempers, which
are generally those of some fictitious being, but
to be simply ourselves. We shall often find
unexpected and welcome response.
Our estimates of persons, unless they are frequently
revived by personal intercourse, are apt to alter
insensibly and to become untrue. They acquire
increased definiteness but they lose in comprehensiveness.
Especially is this true of those who are dead.
If I do not read a great author for some time my
mental abstract of him becomes summary and false.
I turn to him again, all summary judgments upon him
become impossible, and he partakes of infinitude.
Writers, and people who are in society and talk much
are apt to be satisfied with an algebraic symbol for
a man of note, and their work is done not with him
but with x.
We ought to let Time have his own way in the settlement
of our disputes. It is a commonplace how much
he is able to do with some of our troubles, such as
loss of friends or wealth; but we do not sufficiently
estimate his power to help our arguments. If
I permit myself to dispute, I always go beyond what
is necessary for my purpose, and my continual iteration
and insistence do nothing but provoke opposition.
Much better would it be simply to state my case and
leave it. To do more is not only to distrust
it, but to distrust that in my friend which is my best
ally, and will more surely assist me than all my vehemence.
Sometimes— nay, often—it is
better to say nothing, for there is a constant tendency
in Nature towards rectification, and her quiet protest
and persuasiveness are hindered by personal interference.
If anybody very dear to me were to fall into any
heresy of belief or of conduct, I am not sure that
I ought to rebuke him, and that he would not sooner
be converted by observing my silent respect for him
than by preaching to him.
