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Jonathan Swift |
Jonathan Swift
(1667-1745)
Vol. 27, pp. 91-98 of
The Harvard Classics
To harp on one's
illnesses, giving all the symptoms and circumstances, has been a
blemish on conversation for ages. Two hundred years ago Swift
complained of persons who continually talked about themselves.
(Jonathan Swift born
Nov. 30, 1667.)
Hints
Towards an Essay on Conversation
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 hath left every
man a capacity of being agreeable, though not of shining in company;
and there are an 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, holding his head, complaineth of
his memory; the whole company all this while in suspense; at length
says, 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 insufferable 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 coffeehouse, where the wits (as they were called)
used formerly to assemble; that is to say, five or six men, who had
writ 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 an humble audience of young students from
the inns of court, 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 frequent 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 for pedantary, it is what he would never improve by.
The 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
puppetshow; 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 whence 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 a madman 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, 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 sometime 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 the First’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.
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