A Benjamin Franklin Reader (13 page)

In a newspaper piece that he wrote shortly after forming the Junto, Franklin stressed the importance of deferring—or at least giving the appearance of deferring—to others. “Would you win the hearts of others, you must not seem to vie with them, but to admire them,” he sagely counseled.

The older he got, the more Franklin learned (with a few notable lapses) to follow his own advice. He used silence wisely, employed an indirect style of persuasion, and feigned modesty and naiveté in disputes. “When another asserted something that I thought an error, I denied myself the pleasure of contradicting him,” he recalled when writing his autobiography. Instead, he would agree in parts and suggest his differences only indirectly.

The method would become, often with a nod to Franklin, a staple in modern management guides and self-improvement books. Dale Carnegie, in his book
How to Win Friends and Influence People,
draws on Franklin’s rules for conversation. Carnegie’s rules include: “The only way to get the best of an argument is to avoid it.” “Show respect for the other person’s opinions. Never say, ‘You’re wrong.,’ ” “Call attention to people’s mistakes indirectly,” and “Ask questions instead of giving direct orders.”

T
HE
P
ENNSYLVANIA
G
AZETTE
, O
CTOBER
15, 1730

To
please
in
conversation
is an art which all people believe they understand and practice, though most are ignorant or deficient in it. The bounds and manner of this paper will not allow a regular and methodical discourse on the subject, and therefore I must beg leave to throw my thoughts together as they rise.

The two grand requisites in the art of pleasing, are
complaisance
and
good nature. Complaisance
is a seeming preference of others to our selves; and
good nature
a readiness to overlook or excuse their foibles, and do them all the services we can. These two principles must gain us their good opinion, and make them fond of us for their own sake, and then all we do or say will appear to the best advantage, and be well accepted.
Learning, wit,
and
fine parts,
with
these,
shine in full luster, become wonderfully agreeable, and command affection; but without
them,
only seem an assuming over others, and occasion envy and disgust. The common mistake is, that people think to please by setting themselves to view, and showing their own perfections, whereas the easier and more effectual way lies quite contrary. Would you win the hearts of others, you must not seem to vie with, but admire them: give them every opportunity of displaying their own qualifications, and when you have indulged their vanity, they will praise you too in turn, and prefer you above others, in order to secure to themselves the pleasure your commendation gives.

But above all, we should mark out those things which cause dislike, and avoid them with great care. The most common amongst these is,
talking overmuch,
and robbing others of their share of the discourse. This is not only incivility but injustice, for every one has a natural right to speak in turn, and to hinder it is an usurpation of common liberty, which never fails to excite resentment. Besides, great talkers usually leap from one thing to another with so much rapidity, and so ill a connection, that what they say is a mere chaos of noise and nonsense; though did they speak like angels they still would be disagreeable. It is very pleasant when two of these people meet: the vexation they both feel is visible in their looks and gestures; you shall see them gape and stare, and interrupt one another at every turn, and watch with the utmost impatience for a cough or a pause, when they may crowd a word in edgeways: neither hears nor cares what the other says; but both talk on at any rate, and never fail to part highly disgusted with each other. I knew two ladies, gifted this way, who by accident traveled in a boat twenty miles together, in which short journey they were both so extremely tired of one another, that they could never after mention each other’s name with any temper, or be brought in company together, but retained a mutual aversion which could never be worn out.

The contrary fault to this, and almost as disobliging, is that of seeming wholly unconcerned in conversation, and bearing no other part in the discourse than a
no
or
yes
sometimes, or an
hem,
or perhaps a
nod
only. This inattention and indifference appears so like disrespect, that it affronts the desire we all possess of being taken notice of and regarded, and makes the company of those who practice it tiresome and insipid. Such is the vanity of mankind, that minding what others say is a much surer way of pleasing them than talking well our selves.

Another error very common and highly disagreeable, is to be ever speaking of our selves and our own affairs. What is it to the company we fall into whether we quarrel with our servants, whether our children are forward and dirty, or what we intend to have for dinner to morrow? The sauciness of a Negro, the prattle of a child, the spoiling a suit of clothes, the expenses of housekeeping, or the preparation for a journey, may be to ourselves matters of great importance, as they occasion us pain or pleasure; but wherein are strangers concerned, or what amusement can they possibly receive from such accounts? Opposite to this, but not less troublesome, is the impertinent inquisitiveness of some people which is ever prying into and asking ten thousand questions about the business of others. To search after and endeavor to discover secrets, is an unpardonable rudeness; but what makes this disposition worse, it is usually attended with an ill-natured, ungenerous, and mischievous desire of exposing and aggravating the mistakes and infirmities of others. People of this turn are the pest of society, and become both feared and hated. On these two heads it may be useful always to remember, that we never ought to trouble people with more of our own affairs than is needful for them to know, nor enquire farther into theirs than themselves think fit to tell us.

Story-telling
is another mistake in conversation, which should be avoided by all who intend to please. It is impossible to hear a long insipid trifling tale, void of wit or humor, drawn in by neck and shoulders, and told merely for the sake of talking, without being uneasy at it. Besides, people this way given are apt to tell the same string of stories, with all their rambling particulars, again and again over; without considering, that whatsoever pleasure themselves may find in talking, their hearers wish their tongues out. Old folks are most subject to this error, which is one chief reason their company is so often shunned.

Another very disagreeable error, is, a spirit of
wrangling
and
disputing,
which some perpetually bring with them into company: insomuch, that say whatever you will, they’ll be sure to contradict you: and if you go about to give reasons for your opinion, however just they be, or however modestly proposed, you throw them into rage and passion. Though, perhaps, they are wholly unacquainted with the affair, and you have made yourself master of it, it is no matter, the more ignorant they are you still find them the more positive, and what they want in knowledge they endeavor to supply by obstinacy, noise and fury: and when you press hard upon them, instead of argument they fly to personal reproaches and invectives. Thus every trifle becomes a serious business, and such people are continually involved in quarrels.

Raillery
is a part of conversation, which to treat of fully would require a whole paper; but now, I have only room to observe that it is highly entertaining or exceedingly disobliging, according as it is managed, and therefore we ought to use it with all the caution possible. Natural infirmities, unavoidable misfortunes, defects, or deformities of any kind, should never be the subject of it, for then it is not only impertinent, but affronting and inhuman. It’s like salt, a little of which in some cases gives a relish, but if thrown on by handfuls, or sprinkled on things at random, it spoils all. Raillery supposes wit; but agreeable as wit is, when it takes a wrong turn it becomes dangerous and mischievous. When wit applies it self to search into, expose, and ridicule the faults of others, it often inflicts a wound that rankles in the heart, and is never to be forgiven. To rally safely, and so as to please, it is requisite that we perfectly know our company: its not enough that we intend no ill, we must be likewise certain what we say shall be taken as we intend it; otherwise, for the sake of a jest we may lose a friend, and make an inveterate enemy. I shall say no more on this head, but that we ought to use it sparingly; and whatever opportunities may offer of showing our parts this way, so soon as any body appears uneasy at it, and receives it with a grave face, both good manners and discretion advise to change the subject for something else more harmless.

Akin to raillery, and what oftentimes goes along with it, is
scandal.
But if people hereby think to gain esteem, they unhappily are mistaken; for everybody (even those who hear them with a seeming pleasure) considers them with a kind of horror. No ones reputation is safe against such tongues: all in turn may expect to suffer by them. Insensible of the ties of friendship, or the sentiments of humanity, such creatures are mischievous as bears or tigers, and are as much abhorred and feared.

There are many more mistakes which render people disagreeable in conversation, but these are the most obvious; and whosoever avoids them carefully can never much displease. I shall only add, in a few words, what are the most likely means to make a man be well accepted.

Let his air, his manner, and behavior, be easy, courteous and affable, void of every thing haughty or assuming; his words few, expressed with modesty, and a respect for those he talks to. Be he ever ready to hear what others say; let him interrupt no body, nor intrude with his advice unasked. Let him never trouble other people about his own affairs, nor concern himself with theirs. Let him avoid disputes; and when he dissents from others propose his reasons with calmness and complaisance. Be his wit ever guided by discretion and good nature, nor let him sacrifice a friend to raise a laugh. Let him not censure others, nor expose their failings, but kindly excuse or hide them. Let him neither raise nor propagate a story to the prejudice of anybody. In short, be his study to command his own temper, to learn the humors of mankind, and to conform himself accordingly.

Poor Richard’s Almanac, which Franklin began publishing at the end of 1732, combined the two goals of his doing-well-by-doing-good philosophy: the making of money and the promotion of virtue. It became, in the course of its twenty-five-year run, America’s first great humor classic. The beleaguered Richard Saunders and his nagging wife Bridget (like their predecessors Silence Dogood, Anthony Afterwit and Alice Addertongue) helped to continue his development of the genre of American folk humor featuring the naïvely wicked wit and homespun wisdom of characters who seem to be charmingly innocent but are sharply pointed about the pretensions of the elite.

In format and style, it was like other almanacs, most notably that of Titan Leeds, who was publishing, as his father had before him, Philadelphia’s most popular version. The name Poor Richard, a slight oxy-moron pun, echoed that of Poor Robin’s Almanac, which was published by Franklin’s brother James. Franklin, however, added his own distinctive flair. He used his pseudonym to permit himself some ironic distance, which allowed him to poke fun at his pecuniary motives for publishing it. He also ginned up a running feud with his rival Titan Leeds by predicting and later fabricating his death, a prank borrowed from Jonathan Swift.

P
OOR
R
ICHARD
’
S
A
LMANAC FOR
1733

Courteous Reader,

I might in this place attempt to gain thy favor, by declaring that I write almanacs with no other view than that of the public good; but in this I should not be sincere; and men are nowadays too wise to be deceived by pretences how specious soever. The plain truth of the matter is, I am excessive poor, and my wife, good woman, is, I tell her, excessive proud; she cannot bear, she says, to sit spinning in her shift of tow, while I do nothing but gaze at the stars; and has threatened more than once to burn all my books and rattling-traps (as she calls my instruments) if I do not make some profitable use of them for the good of my family. The printer has offered me some considerable share of the profits, and I have thus begun to comply with my dame’s desire.

Indeed this motive would have had force enough to have made me publish an almanac many years since, had it not been overpowered by my regard for my good friend and fellow-student, Mr. Titan Leeds, whose interest I was extremely unwilling to hurt: but this obstacle (I am far from speaking it with pleasure) is soon to be removed, since inexorable death, who was never known to respect merit, has already prepared the mortal dart, the fatal sister has already extended her destroying shears, and that ingenious man must soon be taken from us. He dies, by my calculation made at his request, on Oct. 17. 1733, 3 ho. 29 m.
P.M.
At the very instant of the # of # and #: by his own calculation he will survive till the 26th of the same month. This small difference between us we have disputed whenever we have met these 9 years past; but at length he is inclinable to agree with my judgment; which of us is most exact, a little time will now determine. As therefore these provinces may not longer expect to see any of his performances after this year, I think my self free to take up the task, and request a share of the public encouragement; which I am the more apt to hope for on this account, that the buyer of my almanac may consider himself, not only as purchasing an useful utensil, but as performing an act of charity, to his poor friend and servant,

R. Saunders