CHAPTER V.

ON PLEASANTNESS.

THERE is a gift that is almost a blow, and there is a kind word that is munificence: so much is there in the way of doing things. Every one must have noticed to what a large extent real kindness may be deformed and negatived by manner. But this bad manner corresponds with something not right in the character

generally some want of kindly apprehensiveness, which a pleasant person would be sure to have. I am going to give an essay upon pleasantness, a quality which I believe to be very rare in the world, to proceed only or chiefly from goodness of nature, and to be thoroughly harmonious with the Christian character.

People often suppose that fineness of manners, skilful hypocrisy, thoughtless good-humor, and, at the highest, a sort of tact which has much worldliness in it, are the foundations for pleasantness in society. I am sure this is all wrong, and that these foundations lie much lower. A false man never is pleasant. You treat him

with a falseness, bred from his own, in pretending to be pleased; and he goes away supposing that he has deceived you, and has made himself very agreeable. But men are much less rarely deceived by falseness of character than is supposed, and there is mostly a sense of relief when the false person has taken his departure.

Pleasantness is the chief element of agreeable companionship; and this pleasantness is not merely not a function of the intellect; but may have scarcely any thing to do with what is purely intellectual. Now there may be such a thing as good society, when witty and wellmannered people, who do not care much for one another, meet together; but I venture to assert that society does not assume its highest form is not in fact delightful-unless affection pervades it. When you are with people who, you are conscious, have a regard for you, your powers of pleasing and of being pleased expand almost indefinitely. It is not merely that in such society you feel safe from backbiting, and can leave the room without any apprehension of your character being torn to pieces in your absence. It is not merely that what you then say and do is sure to be well received, and the least possible misconstruction be put upon your sayings and doings. But there is something beyond all this-something beyond the domains of logic-which produces

a sunny atmosphere of satisfaction that raises your powers to the highest when you are with good and loving people. Now if this is true of society in general, it is probably true of more restricted companionship; and kindness of disposition must be admitted to be one of the principal elements of pleasantness in a companion. Of course sympathy insures a certain good companionship. But we have no right to expect to meet with many sympathetic people in the course of our lives. Pleasantness has a much wider, if a lower, sphere. The pleasant man to you is the man you can rely upon; who is tolerant, forbearing, and faithful.

Let us consider the hinderances to pleasant-ness. Fastidiousness is a great hinderance to the formation of a pleasant character. People who have every other merit are prevented from being pleasant persons by fastidiousness. Again, the habit of over-criticism is another hinderance to pleasantness. We are not fond of living always with our judges; and daily life will not bear the unwholesome scrutiny of an over-critical person.

Even refined manners, if they have reference only to the refined person himself, may be a drawback from pleasantness rather than an aid to it. On the other hand, that rudeness, which some people mistake for frankness, is never found in a pleasant person.

Flattery, even when there is a dash of truth in it, is hostile to pleasantness, for flattery is full of fear to the person flattered. You feel that the man who flatters you now, will, under a change of circumstances, be among the first to condemn you.

A singular hinderance to pleasantness in man or woman, and one that requires to be dwelt upon, is the habit of exigence. That last is not a common English word, but I do not see why we should borrow from the French a word which may fairly be adopted into our own language. It is worth while to inquire a little into the causes that make people tiresomely exigent. This habit springs from many sources: from a grasping affectionateness; from a dissatisfied humility; from egotism; from want of imagination, or from a disordered imagination.

Let us take a common instance of its practical working. You are thrown into intimacy with a person by some peculiar train of circumstances; you relish the company of that person: and you two become friends. The circumstances change; and naturally, perhaps inevitably, you do not see so much of one another as you used to do. If he is exigent, he makes this a matter of offence. His dignity is hurt, his egotism is aroused, his affectionateness is wounded, and his want of imagination prevents him from seeing that this discontinuance of intimacy is

inevitable. The truth is we are not guided in our companionship with others by our likings only, for companionship is greatly controlled by external circumstances. Peevish, exigent persons will not perceive this, and will complain about broken friendship until they often succeed in breaking it. This class of persons must have affection proved to them; and by such a habit of mind they become exceedingly tiresome.

The foregoing is but one instance of the tiresomeness of exigence; but it is very multiform and varied; and for no given day can you thoroughly satisfy a person who has suffered this habit of mind to develop itself to a morbid extent, and who is always thinking whether he or she is sufficiently loved, honored, and regarded. Such people make those about them timid and ill at ease from the constant fear lest they should give offence; and thus the chief charm of companionship is blotted or effaced.

It may appear to detract from the high merits of a pleasant person when it is asserted as very desirable, that he should have a good opinion of himself. He can, however, do without this good opinion of himself, if he have a noble constancy of nature, for he is then very apt to attribute a similar constancy to others, and is not prone to believe that he is the subject of any intentional slighting. The self-reliant, hearty, uncomplaining person, believing that everybody thinks well