Post by Deleted on Nov 14, 2017 19:43:52 GMT -5
From: The Railway Traveller's Handy Book *1862*
HINTS, SUGGESTIONS AND ADVICE FOR THE
ANXIOUS VICTORIAN TRAVELLER
HINTS, SUGGESTIONS AND ADVICE FOR THE
ANXIOUS VICTORIAN TRAVELLER
CONVERSATION
With regard to conversation, the English are notoriously deficient in this art. Generally speaking, the occupants of a railway carriage perform the whole of the journey in silence; but if one passenger be more loquaciously inclined than the rest, he is soon silenced by abrupt or tart replies, or by a species of grunt expressive of dissent or dissatisfaction. Sometimes a conversation is got up, but it is of a spasmodic and ephemeral nature, lasts for about the first five minutes of the journey, and then relapses into solemn silence, never again to be broken. This is most unnatural and unreasonable. Why should half a dozen persons, each with minds to think and tongues to express those thoughts, sit looking at each other mumchance, as though they were afraid of employing the faculty of speech? Why should an Englishman ever be like a ghost, in not speaking until he is spoken to? Some fanciful philosophers have asserted that monkeys might speak if they chose, but only they are fearful that if they did, they would be compelled to work. This is not an Englishman's case, for surely he works hard enough, and has no penalty to escape.
However, supposing Englishmen to so far forget themselves as to engage in conversation, let us insert a few words of advice on this head. Firstly, do not engage in discussions either political or theological; there is no knowing what tender chord may be touched, or what pain we may give to others in maintaining some pet theory or dogma. Besides, the utter inutility of all argument of this nature is notorious. Two men will argue for hours, each strong in his own opinion, and each bringing forward what he conceives to be irrefragable proofs of the soundness of his doctrine, and yet at the termination of the discussion, each disputant, in ninety nine cases out of a hundred, is not only unshaken in his opinion, but clings to it more firmly than if he had never heard the other side of the case put at all. Besides, in conducting arguments of this kind there is sometimes danger of unwittingly working mischief to ourselves which we may afterwards repent.
Here is a case in point: Two gentlemen, sitting opposite each other in a railway carriage, got into political argument; one was elderly and a stanch Conservative, the other was young and an ultra-Radical. It may be readily conceived that as the argument went on, the abuse became fast and furious; all sorts of unpleasant phrases and epithets were bandied about, personalities were freely indulged in, and the other passengers were absolutely compelled to interfere to prevent a fracas. At the end of the journey, the disputants parted in mutual disgust, and looking unutterable things.
With regard to conversation, the English are notoriously deficient in this art. Generally speaking, the occupants of a railway carriage perform the whole of the journey in silence; but if one passenger be more loquaciously inclined than the rest, he is soon silenced by abrupt or tart replies, or by a species of grunt expressive of dissent or dissatisfaction. Sometimes a conversation is got up, but it is of a spasmodic and ephemeral nature, lasts for about the first five minutes of the journey, and then relapses into solemn silence, never again to be broken. This is most unnatural and unreasonable. Why should half a dozen persons, each with minds to think and tongues to express those thoughts, sit looking at each other mumchance, as though they were afraid of employing the faculty of speech? Why should an Englishman ever be like a ghost, in not speaking until he is spoken to? Some fanciful philosophers have asserted that monkeys might speak if they chose, but only they are fearful that if they did, they would be compelled to work. This is not an Englishman's case, for surely he works hard enough, and has no penalty to escape.
However, supposing Englishmen to so far forget themselves as to engage in conversation, let us insert a few words of advice on this head. Firstly, do not engage in discussions either political or theological; there is no knowing what tender chord may be touched, or what pain we may give to others in maintaining some pet theory or dogma. Besides, the utter inutility of all argument of this nature is notorious. Two men will argue for hours, each strong in his own opinion, and each bringing forward what he conceives to be irrefragable proofs of the soundness of his doctrine, and yet at the termination of the discussion, each disputant, in ninety nine cases out of a hundred, is not only unshaken in his opinion, but clings to it more firmly than if he had never heard the other side of the case put at all. Besides, in conducting arguments of this kind there is sometimes danger of unwittingly working mischief to ourselves which we may afterwards repent.
Here is a case in point: Two gentlemen, sitting opposite each other in a railway carriage, got into political argument; one was elderly and a stanch Conservative, the other was young and an ultra-Radical. It may be readily conceived that as the argument went on, the abuse became fast and furious; all sorts of unpleasant phrases and epithets were bandied about, personalities were freely indulged in, and the other passengers were absolutely compelled to interfere to prevent a fracas. At the end of the journey, the disputants parted in mutual disgust, and looking unutterable things.