_Jack Lizard_ was about Fifteen when he was first entered in the
University, and being a Youth of a great deal of Fire, and a more than
ordinary Application to his Studies, it gave his Conversation a very
particular Turn. He had too much Spirit to hold his Tongue in Company;
but at the same time so little Acquaintance with the World, that he
did not know how to talk like other People.
After a Year and half's stay at the University, he came down among us
to pass away a Month or two in the Country. The first Night after his
Arrival, as we were at Supper, we were all of us very much improved by
_Jack's_ Table-Talk. He told us, upon the Appearance of a Dish of
Wild-Fowl, that according to the Opinion of some natural Philosophers
they might be lately come from the Moon. Upon which the _Sparkler_
bursting out into a Laugh, he insulted her with several Questions
relating to the Bigness and Distance of the Moon and Stars; and after
every Interrogatory would be winking upon me, and smiling at his
Sister's Ignorance. _Jack_ gained his Point; for the Mother was
pleased, and all the Servants stared at the Learning of their young
Master. _Jack_ was so encouraged at this Success, that for the first
Week he dealt wholly in Paradoxes. It was a common Jest with him to
pinch one of his Sister's Lap-Dogs, and afterwards prove he could not
feel it. When the Girls were sorting a Set of Knots, he would
demonstrate to them that all the Ribbands were of the same Colour; or
rather, says _Jack_, of no Colour at all. My Lady _Lizard_ her self,
though she was not a little pleas'd with her Son's Improvements, was
one Day almost angry with him; for having accidentally burnt her
Fingers as she was lighting the Lamp for her Tea-pot; in the midst of
her Anguish, _Jack_ laid hold of the Opportunity to instruct her that
there was no such thing as Heat in Fire. In short, no Day pass'd over
our Heads, in which _Jack_ did not imagine he made the whole Family
wiser than they were before.
That part of his Conversation which gave me the most Pain, was what
pass'd among those Country Gentlemen that came to visit us. On such
Occasions _Jack_ usually took upon him to be the Mouth of the Company;
and thinking himself obliged to be very merry, would entertain us with
a great many odd Sayings and Absurdities of their College-Cook. I
found this Fellow had made a very strong Impression upon _Jack's_
Imagination; which he never considered was not the Case of the rest of
the Company, 'till after many repeated Tryals he found that his
Stories seldom made any Body laugh but himself.
I all this while looked upon _Jack_ as a young Tree shooting out into
Blossoms before its Time; the Redundancy of which, though it was a
little unseasonable, seemed to foretel an uncommon Fruitfulness.
In order to wear out the vein of Pedantry which ran through his
Conversation, I took him out with me one Evening, and first of all
insinuated to him this Rule, which I had my self learned from a very
great Author, _To think with the Wise, but talk with the Vulgar_.
_Jack's_ good Sense soon made him reflect that he had often exposed
himself to the Laughter of the Ignorant by a contrary Behaviour; upon
which he told me, that he would take Care for the future to keep his
Notions to himself, and converse in the common received Sentiments of
Mankind. He at the same time desired me to give him any other Rules of
Conversation which I thought might be for his Improvement. I told him
I would think of it; and accordingly, as I have a particular Affection
for the young Man, I gave him next Morning the following Rules in
Writing, which may perhaps have contributed to make him the agreeable
Man he now is.
The Faculty of interchanging our Thoughts with one another, or what we
express by the Word _Conversation_, has always been represented by
Moral Writers as one of the noblest Privileges of Reason, and which
more particularly sets Mankind above the Brute Part of the Creation.
Though nothing so much gains upon the Affections as this _Extempore
Eloquence_, which we have constantly Occasion for, and are obliged to
practice every Day, we very rarely meet with any who excel in it.
The Conversation of most Men is disagreeable, not so much for Want of
Wit and Learning, as of Good-Breeding and Discretion.
If you resolve to please, never speak to gratifie any particular
Vanity or Passion of your own, but always with a Design either to
divert or inform the Company. A Man who only aims at one of these, is
always easie in his Discourse. He is never out of Humour at being
interrupted, because he considers that those who hear him are the best
Judges whether what he was saying could either divert or inform them.
A modest Person seldom fails to gain the Good-Will of those he
converses with, because no body envies a Man, who does not appear to
be pleased with himself.
We should talk extreamly little of our selves. Indeed what can we say?
It would be as imprudent to discover our Faults, as ridiculous to
count over our fancied Virtues. Our private and domestick Affairs are
no less improper to be introduced in Conversation. What does it
concern the Company how many Horses you keep in your Stables? Or
whether your Servant is most Knave, or Fool?
A man may equally affront the Company he is in, by engrossing all the
Talk, or observing a contemptuous Silence.
Before you tell a Story it may be generally not amiss to draw a short
Character, and give the Company a true Idea of the principal Persons
concerned in it. The Beauty of most things consisting not so much in
their being said or done, as in their being said or done by such a
particular Person, or on such a particular Occasion.
Notwithstanding all the Advantages of Youth, few young People please
in Conversation; the Reason is, that want of Experience makes them
positive, and what they say is rather with a Design to please
themselves than any one else.
It is certain that Age it self shall make many things pass well
enough, which would have been laughed at in the Mouth of one much
younger.
Nothing, however, is more insupportable to Men of Sense, than an empty
formal Man who speaks in Proverbs, and decides all Controversies with
a short Sentence. This piece of Stupidity is the more insufferable, as
it puts on the Air of Wisdom.
A prudent Man will avoid talking much of any particular Science, for
which he is remarkably famous. There is not methinks an handsomer
thing said of Mr. _Cowley_ in his whole Life, than that none but his
intimate Friends ever discovered he was a great Poet by his Discourse:
Besides the Decency of this Rule, it is certainly founded in good
Policy. A Man who talks of any thing he is already famous for, has
little to get, but a great deal to lose. I might add, that he who is
sometimes silent on a Subject where every one is satisfied he could
speak well, will often be thought no less knowing in other Matters,
where perhaps he is wholly ignorant.
Women are frightened at the Name of Argument, and are sooner convinced
by an happy Turn, or Witty Expression, than by Demonstration.
Whenever you commend, add your Reasons for doing so; it is this which
distinguishes the Approbation of a Man of Sense from the Flattery of
Sycophants, and Admiration of Fools.
Raillery is no longer agreeable than while the whole Company is
pleased with it. I would least of all be understood to except the
Person rallied.
Though Good-humour, Sense and Discretion can seldom fail to make a Man
agreeable, it may be no ill Policy sometimes to prepare your self in a
particular manner for Conversation, by looking a little farther than
your Neighbours into whatever is become a reigning Subject. If our
Armies are besieging a Place of Importance abroad, or our House of
Commons debating a Bill of Consequence at home, you can hardly fail of
being heard with Pleasure, if you have nicely informed your self of
the Strength, Situation, and History of the first, or of the Reasons
for and against the latter. It will have the same Effect if when any
single Person begins to make a Noise in the World, you can learn some
of the smallest Accidents in his Life or Conversation, which though
they are too fine for the Observation of the Vulgar, give more
Satisfaction to Men of Sense, (as they are the best Openings to a real
Character) than the Recital of his most glaring Actions. I know but
one ill Consequence to be feared from this Method, namely, that coming
full charged into Company, you should resolve to unload whether an
handsome Opportunity offers it self or no.
Though the asking of Questions may plead for it self the specious
Names of Modesty, and a Desire of Information, it affords little
Pleasure to the rest of the Company who are not troubled with the same
Doubts; besides which, he who asks a Question would do well to
consider that he lies wholly at the Mercy of another before he
receives an Answer.
Nothing is more silly than the Pleasure some People take in what they
call _speaking their Minds_. A Man of this Make will say a rude thing
for the meer Pleasure of saying it, when an opposite Behaviour, full
as Innocent, might have preserved his Friend, or made his Fortune.
It is not impossible for a Man to form to himself as exquisite a
Pleasure in complying with the Humour and Sentiments of others, as of
bringing others over to his own; since 'tis the certain Sign of a
Superior Genius, that can take and become whatever Dress it pleases.
I shall only add, that besides what I have here said, there is
something which can never be learnt but in the Company of the Polite.
The Virtues of Men are catching as well as their Vices, and your own
Observations added to these, will soon discover what it is that
commands Attention in one Man and makes you tired and displeased with
the Discourse of another.
_Steele._
A MEDITATION UPON A BROOMSTICK, ACCORDING TO THE STYLE AND MANNER OF
THE HON. ROBERT BOYLE'S MEDITATIONS
This single stick, which you now behold ingloriously lying in that
neglected corner, I once knew in a flourishing state in a forest; it
was full of sap, full of leaves, and full of boughs; but now in vain
does the busy art of man pretend to vie with nature, by tying that
withered bundle of twigs to its sapless trunk; it is now at best but
the reverse of what it was, a tree turned upside down, the branches on
the earth, and the root in the air; it is now handled by every dirty
wench, condemned to do her drudgery, and, by a capricious kind of
fate, destined to make her things clean, and be nasty itself; at
length, worn out to the stumps in the service of the maids, it is
either thrown out of doors, or condemned to the last use of kindling a
fire. When I beheld this, I sighed, and said within myself: Surely
mortal man is a broomstick! nature sent him into the world strong and
lusty, in a thriving condition, wearing his own hair on his head, the
proper branches of this reasoning vegetable, until the axe of
intemperance has lopped off his green boughs, and left him a withered
trunk; he then flies to art, and puts on a periwig, valuing himself
upon an unnatural bundle of hairs, all covered with powder, that never
grew on his head; but now should this our broomstick pretend to enter
the scene, proud of those birchen spoils it never bore, and all
covered with dust, though the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber,
we should be apt to ridicule and despise its vanity. Partial judges
that we are of our own excellences, and other men's defaults!
But a broomstick, perhaps you will say, is an emblem of a tree
standing on its head: and pray, what is man but a topsy-turvy
creature, his animal faculties perpetually mounted on his rational,
his head where his heels should be--grovelling on the earth! and yet,
with all his faults, he sets up to be a universal reformer and
corrector of abuses, a remover of grievances; rakes into every slut's
corner of nature, bringing hidden corruptions to the light, and raises
a mighty dust where there was none before, sharing deeply all the
while in the very same pollutions he pretends to sweep away. His last
days are spent in slavery to women, and generally the least deserving;
till, worn to the stumps, like his brother-besom, he is either kicked
out of doors, or made use of to kindle flames for others to warm
themselves by.
_Swift._