第14章 "VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE"(14)

Indeed, letters are in vain for the purposes of intimacy; an absence is a dead break in the relation; yet two who know each other fully and are bent on perpetuity in love, may so preserve the attitude of their affections that they may meet on the same terms as they had parted.

Pitiful is the case of the blind, who cannot read the face; pitiful that of the deaf, who cannot follow the changes of the voice.And there are others also to be pitied; for there are some of an inert, uneloquent nature, who have been denied all the symbols of communication, who have neither a lively play of facial expression, nor speaking gestures, nor a responsive voice, nor yet the gift of frank, explanatory speech: people truly made of clay, people tied for life into a bag which no one can undo.They are poorer than the gipsy, for their heart can speak no language under heaven.Such people we must learn slowly by the tenor of their acts, or through yea and nay communications; or we take them on trust on the strength of a general air, and now and again, when we see the spirit breaking through in a flash, correct or change our estimate.But these will be uphill intimacies, without charm or freedom, to the end; and freedom is the chief ingredient in confidence.Some minds, romantically dull, despise physical endowments.That is a doctrine for a misanthrope; to those who like their fellow-creatures it must always be meaningless; and, for my part, I can see few things more desirable, after the possession of such radical qualities as honour and humour and pathos, than to have a lively and not a stolid countenance; to have looks to correspond with every feeling; to be elegant and delightful in person, so that we shall please even in the intervals of active pleasing, and may never discredit speech with uncouth manners or become unconsciously our own burlesques.But of all unfortunates there is one creature (for I will not call him man)conspicuous in misfortune.This is he who has forfeited his birthright of expression, who has cultivated artful intonations, who has taught his face tricks, like a pet monkey, and on every side perverted or cut off his means of communication with his fellow-men.The body is a house of many windows: there we all sit, showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come and love us.But this fellow has filled his windows with opaque glass, elegantly coloured.His house may be admired for its design, the crowd may pause before the stained windows, but meanwhile the poor proprietor must lie languishing within, uncomforted, unchangeably alone.

Truth of intercourse is something more difficult than to refrain from open lies.It is possible to avoid falsehood and yet not tell the truth.It is not enough to answer formal questions.To reach the truth by yea and nay communications implies a questioner with a share of inspiration, such as is often found in mutual love.YEA and NAY mean nothing; the meaning must have been related in the question.Many words are often necessary to convey a very simple statement; for in this sort of exercise we never hit the gold; the most that we can hope is by many arrows, more or less far off on different sides, to indicate, in the course of time, for what target we are aiming, and after an hour's talk, back and forward, to convey the purport of a single principle or a single thought.

And yet while the curt, pithy speaker misses the point entirely, a wordy, prolegomenous babbler will often add three new offences in the process of excusing one.It is really a most delicate affair.The world was made before the English language, and seemingly upon a different design.Suppose we held our converse not in words, but in music; those who have a bad ear would find themselves cut off from all near commerce, and no better than foreigners in this big world.But we do not consider how many have "a bad ear" for words, nor how often the most eloquent find nothing to reply.I hate questioners and questions; there are so few that can be spoken to without a lie."DO YOU FORGIVE ME?" Madam and sweetheart, so far as I have gone in life I have never yet been able to discover what forgiveness means."IS IT STILL THE SAMEBETWEEN US?" Why, how can it be? It is eternally different;and yet you are still the friend of my heart."DO YOUUNDERSTAND ME?" God knows; I should think it highly improbable.

The cruellest lies are often told in silence.A man may have sat in a room for hours and not opened his teeth, and yet come out of that room a disloyal friend or a vile calumniator.