The Grange advance. [volume] (Red Wing, Minn.) 1873-1877, 1877-07-25
The Art of Listening.

Persons who talk we'll are always in
danger of talking too much; the better
they talk the greater the danger. Nearly
all men and women who have gained the
reputation Of eminent conversatiOnalists
have been little less than monologists, and
monologue is as deadly foe to CONVERSE
ton as incurable stupidity. Weget tired
after while, of hearing the most eloquent
speech, if it comes from one mouth, and
we inwardly pray for what has been
APPLY called, few flashes Of silence.
How many brilliant people there are. in
society whom all their acQuaintances fear
on account Of their gift OF utterance!
Everybody breads to breach 4 subject,
lest the sparkling talker should exhaust
it and his hearers, and still be talking
on. The passion for speech, like other
passions grows by indulgence, and at a
certain stage of development becomes so
morbid as to require neither sympathy nor
response
1t is related of Macaulay, that having
been introduced to, and driving distance
of six miles with a deaf and dumb man,
he pronounced him, some days after, to be
a gentlemen Of the soundest views on pol
tiles, with an admiral way of presenting
them.
Madame Dc Stacl, rs the story goes
was induced by a satirist to harangue a
stuffed figure one evening in darkened
room for nearly two full hours, the satirist
having assured her that the figure was a
distinguished Bavarian who regarded her
Germany as the greatest work that had
appeared during the Empire. Questioned
subsequently as to her opinion, she de-
his regulations; that his ideas were at
once original, profound, and COM
prchensivc, and that he expressed them
with luminous clearneSs and particular
elegance.
These anecdotes, if not facts, are true
to human nature, and illustrate the advan-
tage Of listening, or seeming to listen. No
doubt Macaulay and De Stael-so egotis-
tic and dogmatic we're they, so absorbed
in themselves-would have been SO en-
rupturcd by the sound Of their own voices
as 10 imagine their monologue conversa-
ton, and the persons who had never in
terrupted them as fascinating companions.
Ii the thing did not happen, it might have
happened.
The art of listening is I; delicate and
difficult art, and one that is seldom prac-
ticed. it is delicate, because it demands
II Eol sympathy, asfoW Of sympathy, and
continuous attention as we'll as an air of
interest," It is difficult because self as
sertion is natural, and a state of passive
ness, without manifestation of WEAKNESS
is irksOme to MAINTAIN. On account of
its delicacy and difficulty, not less than
from want of knowing how to manage it,
it is the art rare in society. The few listen
crs who understand listening are invaria-
bly, liked, even admired, and not infre-
puently charm the takers to whom they
give ear. The nice listener is pretty sure
TO get a name for intellect, culture, wit,
readiness-for any sort of quality, which
he or she does not reveal, and may not
possess. The person fond of talking us
ually endows the person who listens, with
whatever attribute he thinks he has him.
self; and his good opinion of the listen
er grows steadily, until sometimes it
amounts to positive worship.
It is not enough to listen merely in
negative manner; for this appears like
resignation, like silent suffering, like I'M
complaining martyrdom, and, besides,
may be mistaken for stupidity, which is
fatal to the listeners hope and object.
One may be as stupid as an owl in society,
but his listeners must disguise his stupid
ity if they would be accepted; and, above
all, never indicate or intimate to any body
that the speaker has any possibility of
stupidity. We can be dullness and COM
monplace itself with impunity, provided
we seem to think we'll Of our acquaintan-
ces. We may be insignificant, and yet
bear reputation for individuality, clever
ness, and character, so long as we assume
prejudices in favor of our neighbors.
And by listening patiently, earn estly, and
pleasantly to whoever addresses us, even
when we find nothing in the discourse
that is new and entertaining, we may be
certain of securing friends, since in so do
ing we silently compliment others, and
rcpress whatever savors of egotism.
Our listening must be an art,fn order to
be effective; for, unless we make it an art,
we shall often be tempted to betray bore
dom, and yield to the temptation. We
must listen on principle, and try to be
interested even when we are not. We
shall be surprised at the result of such
earnest and self-denying continuance.
What may be artificial and disagreeable
at first will become, after while, natural
and welcome. We shall discover in our
acquaintance what we have never suspect
ed-that mere humanity is strong at
traction when it is relieved Of affectation,