Sunt quibus datur sapientia, sed modus sapere carent. Verba cum
frondes sunt, ubi superabundant fructus raro invenimus.
_Cicero in Appiam_.
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 gains so much 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 people is disagreeable—not so much for want
of wit and learning, as of good breeding and discretion.
If we resolve to please, we must never speak to gratify any particular
vanity or passion of our own; but always with a design either to
divert or inform the company. He who aims only at one of these, is
always easy in his discourse. He is never out of humor 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 one envys a man who does not appear to be
pleased with himself.
But should we be disposed to talk of ourselves, what can we say? It
would be as imprudent to discover our faults, as ridiculous to
enumerate our supposed virtues. Our private and domestic affairs are
no less improper to be introduced in conversation. What does it
concern the company how many horses we keep?—how many courses we dine
of?—or whether our servant is a fool or a knave?
One may equally affront the company he is in, either by engrossing all
the talk, or preserving a contemptuous silence.
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 will 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 use of a proverb, or a decision in all controversies,
with a short unmeaning 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 a handsomer thing than
what was said of the famous Mr. Cowley—“That none but his intimate
friends ever discovered by his discourse that he was a poet.” Besides
the decency of this rule, it is certainly founded on good policy. He
who talks of any thing for which he is already famous, has little to
get, but a great deal to lose. It might be added, that he who is
sometimes silent on a subject where every one is satisfied he could
speak, will often be thought no less knowing in other matters, where
perhaps he is wholly ignorant.
When occasion for commendation is found, it will not be amiss to add
the reasons for it, as it is this which distinguishes the approbation
of a man of sense from the flattery of sycophants and admiration of
fools.
Though good humor, sense and discretion can seldom fail to make a man
agreeable, it may be no ill policy sometimes to prepare ourselves for
particular {772} conversation, by looking a little into what is become
a reigning subject.
Though the asking questions may plead for itself 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, more rude or absurd, than the pleasure some
people take in what they call speaking their minds. A person of this
manner of thinking will say a rude thing merely for the pleasure of
saying it, when an opposite behavior, full as innocent, might have
preserved his friend, or made his fortune.
It is not possible for a man to form to himself as exquisite pleasure
in complying with the humor and sentiments of others, as with bringing
others over to his own; since it is the certain sign of superior
genius which can assume and become whatever dress it pleases.
We may add, moreover, that 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 our own observations added to
these, will soon discover what it is that commands attention in one
man, and makes us tired and displeased with the discourse of another.
_Literary Society, July 16, 1779_.