Charles the Second asking the famous Bishop Stillingfleet, how it came to pass, that although he was informed he always preached without book elsewhere, yet he always read his Sermons before the Court? The Bishop replied, that the awe of so wise an audience, where he saw nothing that was not greatly superior to himself, made him afraid to trust his memory. “But will your majesty (continued Stillingfleet) permit me to ask you a question in my turn?---Why do you read your Speeches, when you can have no such reasons?”---“Why, truly, Doctor, (said the King) your question is a very pertinent one, and so shall be my answer.---I have asked the Parliament so often, and for so much money, that I am afraid to look them in the face.”
For the New-York Weekly Magazine.
OBSERVATION.
“Qui capit ille facit.”
“Giving advice unasked,” says Lord Chesterfield, “is a piece of rudeness; it is, in effect, declaring ourselves wiser than these to whom we give it; reproaching them with ignorance and inexperience. It is a freedom that ought not to be taken with any common acquaintance.” Notwithstanding, there are those who assume the place of preceptors, not only to their familiars, but to those with whom they have no particular acquaintance, nor can claim the least pretence to superiority.
There is also another class of people who render themselves insufferably disgusting, by a kind of blind raillery, which they employ against some person present: to whom they offer the most unpardonable insults, without saying any thing in particular that can properly be resented.
An instance of both these characters I met with, not long since, in a gentleman whom I chanced to fall in company with: and as I perceived his observations were altogether levelled at me, I shall not hesitate to offer a few remarks thereon; and, in my turn, propose a word of instruction to those who may be guilty of the like errors. Should they wish to convince any one of his faults, on honourable grounds, let them, without reserve, address the immediate person intended, with freedom and candour: for they may be assured that open reproof is better than covert insults. “Poisoned arrows,” (to use the words of a celebrated author, on another occasion) “and stabs in the dark, are not more repugnant to the laws of Humanity” than “this battery of” indirect sarcasm. Reflections, thus obliquely delivered, though clothed in the “mildest language,” give to persons of discernment and spirit “sensible” offence. Every body knows that the provokingest things are frequently uttered in the ironic style; and it is quite as certain, that the acutest sting often lurks under the softest expressions. The dagger becomes not less keen for being polished.
ETHICUS.