Chapter 2 of 3 · 853 words · ~4 min read

III.

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_.