I
HAVE observed few obvious subjects to have been so seldom, or at least
so
slightly, handled as this; and, indeed, I know few so difficult to be
treated as
it ought, nor yet upon which there seemeth so much to be said.
Most
things pursued by men for the happiness of public or private life our
wit or
folly have so refined, that they seldom subsist but in idea; a true
friend, a
good marriage, a perfect form of government, with some others, require
so many
ingredients, so good in their several kinds, and so much niceness in
mixing
them, that for some thousands of years men have despaired of reducing
their
schemes to perfection. But in conversation it is or might be otherwise;
for here
we are only to avoid a multitude of errors, which, although a matter of
some
difficulty, may be in every man’s power, for want of which it remaineth
as
mere an idea as the other. Therefore it seemeth to me that the truest
way to
understand conversation is to know the faults and errors to which it is
subject,
and from thence every man to form maxims to himself whereby it may be
regulated,
because it requireth few talents to which most men are not born, or at
least may
not acquire without any great genius or study. For nature bath left
every man a
capacity of being agreeable, though not of shining in company; and
there are a
hundred men sufficiently qualified for both, who, by a very few faults
that they
might correct in half an hour, are not so much as tolerable.
I
was prompted to write my thoughts upon this subject by mere
indignation, to
reflect that so useful and innocent a pleasure, so fitted for every
period and
condition of life, and so much in all men’s power, should be so much
neglected
and abused.
And
in this discourse it will be necessary to note those errors that are
obvious, as
well as others which are seldomer observed, since there are few so
obvious or
acknowledged into which most men, some time or other, are not apt to
run.
For
instance, nothing is more generally exploded than the folly of talking
too much;
yet I rarely remember to have seen five people together where some one
among
them hath not been predominant in that kind, to the great constraint
and disgust
of all the rest. But among such as deal in multitudes of words, none are
comparable to the sober deliberate talker, who proceedeth with much
thought and
caution, maketh his preface,
brancheth out into several digressions, findeth a hint that putteth him
in mind
of another story, which he promiseth to tell you when this is done;
cometh back
regularly to his subject, cannot readily call to mind some person’s
name,
holdeth his head, complaineth of his memory; the whole company all this
while in
suspense; at length, says he, it is no matter, and so goes on. And, to
crown the
business, it perhaps proveth at last a story the company hath heard fifty
times
before; or, at best, some insipid adventure of the relater.
Another
general fault in conversation is that of those who affect to talk of
themselves.
Some, without any ceremony, will run over the history of their lives;
will
relate the annals of their diseases, with the several symptoms and
circumstances
of them; will enumerate the hardships and injustice they have suffered
in court,
in parliament, in love, or in law. Others are more dexterous, and with
great art
will lie on the watch to hook in their own praise. They will call a
witness to
remember they always foretold what would happen in such a case, but
none would
believe them; they advised such a man from the beginning, and told him
the
consequences just as they happened, but he would have his own way.
Others make a
vanity of telling their faults. They are the strangest men in the
world; they
cannot dissemble; they own it is a folly; they have lost abundance of
advantages
by it; but, if you would give them the world, they cannot help it;
there is
something in their nature that abhors insincerity and constraint; with
many
other unsufferable topics of the same altitude.
Of
such mighty importance every man is to himself, and ready to think he
is so to
others, without once making this easy and obvious reflection, that his
affairs
can have no more weight with other men than theirs have with him; and
how little
that is he is sensible enough.
Where
company hath met, I often have observed two persons discover by some
accident
that they were bred together at the same school or university, after
which the
rest are condemned to silence, and to listen while these two are
refreshing each
other’s memory with the arch tricks and passages of themselves and their
comrades.
I
know a great officer of the army, who will sit for some time with a
supercilious
and impatient silence, full of anger and contempt for those who are
talking; at
length of a sudden demand audience; decide the matter in a short
dogmatical way;
then withdraw within himself again, and vouchsafe to talk no more,
until his
spirits circulate again to the same point.
There
are some faults in conversation which none are so subject to as the men
of wit,
nor ever so much as when they are with each other. If they have opened
their
mouths without endeavouring to say a witty thing, they think it is so
many words
lost. It is a torment to the hearers, as much as to themselves, to see
them upon
the rack for invention, and in perpetual constraint, with so little
success.
They must do something extraordinary, in order to acquit themselves,
and answer
their character, else the standers by may be disappointed and be apt to think them only like
the rest
of mortals. I have known two men of wit industriously brought together,
in order
to entertain the company, where they have made a very ridiculous
figure, and
provided all the mirth at their own expense.
I know a man of wit, who is never easy but where
he can be
allowed to dictate and preside; he neither expecteth to be informed or
entertained, but to display his own talents. His business is to be good
company,
and not good conversation, and therefore he chooseth to frequent those
who are
content to listen, and profess themselves his admirers. And, indeed,
the worst
conversation I ever remember to have heard in my life was that at Will’s
coffee-house, where the wits, as they were called, used formerly to
assemble;
that is to say, five or six men who had written plays, or at least
prologues, or
had share in a miscellany, came thither, and entertained one another
with their
trifling composures in so important an air, as if they
had been
the noblest efforts of human nature, or that the fate of kingdoms
depended on
them; and they were usually attended with a humble audience of young
students
from the inns of courts, or the universities, who, at due distance,
listened to
these oracles, and returned home with great contempt for their law and
philosophy, their heads filled with trash under the name of politeness,
criticism, and belles lettres.
By
these means the poets, for many years past, were all overrun with
pedantry. For,
as I take it, the word is not properly used; because pedantry is the
too front
or unseasonable obtruding our own knowledge in common discourse, and
placing too
great a value upon it; by which definition men of the court or the army
may be
as guilty of pedantry as a philosopher or a divine; and it is the same
vice in
women when they are over copious upon the subject of their petticoats,
or their
fans, or their china. For which reason, although it be a piece of
prudence, as
well as good manners, to put men upon talking on subjects they are best
versed
in, yet that is a liberty a wise man could hardly take; because, beside
the
imputation of pedantry, it is what he would never improve by.
This
great town is usually provided with some player, mimic, or buffoon, who
hath a
general reception at the good tables; familiar and domestic with
persons of the
first quality, and usually sent for at every meeting to divert the
company,
against which I have no objection. You go there as to a farce or a
puppet-show;
your business is only to laugh in season, either out of inclination or
civility,
while this merry companion is acting his part. It is a business he hath
undertaken, and we are to suppose he is paid for his day’s work. I only
quarrel when in select and private meetings, where men of wit and
learning are
invited to pass an evening, this jester should be admitted to run over
his
circle of tricks, and make the whole company unfit for any other
conversation,
besides the indignity of confounding men’s talents at so shameful a
rate.
Raillery
is the finest part of conversation; but, as it is our usual custom to
counterfeit and adulterate whatever is too dear for us, so we have done
with
this, and turned it all into what is generally called repartee, or
being smart;
just as when an expensive fashion cometh up, those who are not able to
reach it
content themselves with some paltry imitation. It now passeth for
raillery to
run a man down in discourse, to put him out of countenance, and make him
ridiculous, sometimes to expose the defects of his person or
understanding; on
all which occasions he is obliged not to be angry, to avoid the
imputation of
not being able to take a jest. It is admirable to observe one who is
dexterous
at this art, singling out a weak adversary, getting the laugh on his
side, and
then carrying all before him. The French, from whom we borrow the word,
have a
quite different idea of the thing, and so had we in the politer age of
our
fathers. Raillery was, to say something that at first appeared a
reproach or
reflection, but, by some turn of wit unexpected and surprising, ended
always in
a compliment, and to the advantage of the person it was addressed to.
And surely
one of the best rules in conversation is, never to say a thing which
any of the
company can reasonably wish we had rather left unsaid; nor can there
anything be
well more contrary to the ends for which people meet together, than to
part
unsatisfied with each other or themselves.
There
are two faults in conversation which appear very different, yet arise
from the
same root, and are equally blamable; I mean, an impatience to interrupt
others,
and the uneasiness of being interrupted ourselves. The two chief ends of
conversation are, to entertain and improve those we are among, or to
receive
those benefits ourselves; which whoever will consider, cannot easily
run into
either of those two errors; because, when any man speaketh in company,
it is to
be supposed he doth it for his hearers’ sake, and not his own; so that
common
discretion will teach us not to force their attention, if they are not
willing
to lend it; nor, on the other side, to interrupt him who is in
possession,
because that is in the grossest manner to give the preference to our
own good
sense.
There
are some people whose good manners will not suffer them to interrupt
you; but,
what is almost as bad, will discover abundance of impatience, and lie
upon the
watch until you have done, because they have started something in their
own
thoughts which they long to be delivered of. Meantime, they are so far
from
regarding what passes, that their imaginations are wholly turned upon
what they
have in reserve, for fear it should slip out of their memory; and thus
they
confine their invention, which might otherwise range over a hundred
things full
as good, and that might be much more naturally introduced.
There
is a sort of rude familiarity, which some people, by practising among
their
intimates, have introduced into their general conversation, and would
have it
pass for innocent freedom or humour, which is a dangerous experiment in
our
northern climate, where all the little decorum and politeness we have
are purely
forced by art, and are so ready to lapse into barbarity. This, among
the Romans,
was the raillery of slaves, of which we have many instances in Plautus.
It
seemeth to have been introduced among us by Cromwell, who, by
preferring the
scum of the people, made it a court-entertainment, of which I have
heard many
particulars; and, considering all things were turned upside down, it was
reasonable and judicious; although it was a piece of policy found out to
ridicule a point of honour in the other extreme, when the smallest word
misplaced among gentlemen ended in a duel.
There
are some men excellent at telling a story, and provided with a
plentiful stock
of them, which they can draw out upon occasion in all companies; and
considering
how low conversation runs now among us, it is not altogether a
contemptible
talent; however, it is subject to two unavoidable defects: frequent
repetition,
and being soon exhausted; so that whoever valueth this gift in himself
hath need
of a good memory, and ought frequently to shift his company, that he
may not
discover the weakness of his fund; for those who are thus endowed have
seldom
any other revenue, but live upon the main stock.
Great
speakers in public are seldom agreeable in private conversation,
whether their
faculty be natural, or acquired by practice and often venturing. Natural
elocution, although it may seem a paradox, usually springeth from a
barrenness
of invention and of words, by which men who have only one stock of
notions upon
every subject, and one set of phrases to express them in, they swim
upon the
superficies, and offer themselves on every occasion; therefore, men of
much
learning, and who know the compass of a language, are generally the
worst
talkers on a sudden, until much practice hath inured and emboldened
them;
because they are confounded with plenty of matter, variety of notions,
and of
words, which they cannot readily choose, but are perplexed and
entangled by too
great a choice, which is no disadvantage in private conversation;
where, on the
other side, the talent of haranguing is, of all others, most
insupportable.
Nothing
hath spoiled men more for conversation than the character of being
wits; to
support which, they never fail of encouraging a number of followers and
admirers, who list themselves in their service, wherein they find their
accounts
on both sides by pleasing their mutual vanity. This hath given the
former such
an air of superiority, and made the latter so pragmatical, that neither
of them
are well to be endured. I say nothing here of the itch of dispute and
contradiction, telling of lies, or of those who are troubled with the
disease
called the wandering of the thoughts, that they are never present in
mind at
what passeth in discourse; for whoever labours under any of these
possessions is
as unfit for conversation as madmen in Bedlam.
I
think I have gone over most of the errors in conversation that have
fallen under
my notice or memory, except some that are merely personal, and others
too gross
to need exploding; such as lewd or profane talk; but I pretend only to
treat the
errors of conversation in general, and not the several subjects of
discourse,
which would be infinite. Thus we see how human nature is most debased,
by the
abuse of that faculty, which is held the great distinction between men
and
brutes; and how little advantage we make of that which might be the
greatest,
the most lasting, and the most innocent, as well as useful pleasure of
life: in
default of which, we are forced to take up with those poor amusements
of dress
and visiting, or the more pernicious ones of play, drink, and vicious
amours,
whereby the nobility and gentry of both sexes are entirely corrupted
both in
body and mind, and have lost all notions of love, honour, friendship,
and
generosity; which, under the name of fopperies, have been for some time
laughed
out of doors.
This
degeneracy of conversation, with the pernicious consequences thereof
upon our
humours and dispositions, hath been owing, among other causes, to the
custom
arisen, for some time past, of excluding women from any share in our
society,
further than in parties at play, or dancing, or in the pursuit of an
amour. I
take the highest period of politeness in England (and it is of the same
date in
France) to have been the peaceable part of King Charles I.‘s reign; and
from
what we read of those times, as well as from the accounts I have
formerly met
with from some who lived in that court, the methods then used for
raising and
cultivating conversation were altogether different from ours; several
ladies,
whom we find celebrated by the poets of that age, had assemblies at
their
houses, where persons of the best understanding, and of both sexes, met
to pass
the evenings in discoursing upon whatever agreeable subjects were
occasionally
started; and although we are apt to ridicule the sublime Platonic
notions they
had, or personated in love and friendship, I conceive their refinements
were
grounded upon reason, and that a little grain of the romance is no ill
ingredient to preserve and exalt the dignity of human nature, without
which it
is apt to degenerate into everything that is sordid, vicious, and low.
If there
were no other use in the conversation of ladies, it is sufficient that
it would
lay a restraint upon those odious topics of immodesty and indecencies,
into
which the rudeness of our northern genius is so apt to fall. And,
therefore, it
is observable in those sprightly gentlemen about the town, who are so
very
dexterous at entertaining a vizard mask in the park or the playhouse,
that, in
the company of ladies of virtue and honour, they are silent and
disconcerted,
and out of their element.
There
are some people who think they sufficiently acquit themselves and
entertain
their company with relating of facts of no consequence, nor at all out
of the
road of such common incidents as happen every day; and this I have
observed more
frequently among the Scots than any other nation, who are very careful
not to
omit the minutest circumstances of time or place; which kind of
discourse, if it
were not a little relieved by the uncouth terms and phrases, as well as
accent
and gesture peculiar to that country, would be hardly tolerable. It is
not a
fault in company to talk much; but to continue it long is certainly
one; for, if
the majority of those who are got together be naturally silent or
cautious, the
conversation will flag, unless it be often renewed by one among them
who can
start new subjects, provided he doth not dwell upon them, but leaveth
room for
answers and replies.