Some of the class make no ceremony of immediately intruding themselves and their affairs on the attention of a whole party; of silencing every other subject started, however interesting to the company, merely that they may occupy the prominent and most conspicuous position. Others again 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 own 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. Thus, though bores find their account in speaking ill or well of themselves, it is the characteristic of a gentleman that he never speaks of himself at all.
La Bruyère says, "The great charm of conversation consists less in the display of one's own wit and intelligence, than in the power to draw forth the resources of others; he who leaves you after a long conversation, pleased with himself and the part he has taken in the discourse, will be your warmest admirer. Men do not care to admire you, they wish you to be pleased with them; they do not seek for instruction or even amusement from your discourse, but they do wish you to be made acquainted with their talents and powers of conversation; and the true man of genius will delicately make all who come in contact with him feel the exquisite satisfaction of knowing that they have appeared to advantage."
I have no desire to condemn my readers to eternal silence; but must inform them that it is not so easy to shine in conversation as many suppose. Fluency of tongue and a little modest assurance, though very well for imposing on the unwary, go but a short way when you have to deal with those who are really worth pleasing.
How can a person shine by conversation in elegant and educated society, whose thoughts have never ranged beyond the gratification of foolish vanity and mean selfishness; who has never reflected on life, men and manners; whose mind has not turned to the contemplation of the works and wonders of nature; and who, in the events of his own time, has not seen the results of the many deeds of sorrow, shame, greatness, and glory, that crowd the pages of the world's variegated annals? Whoever would shine in polite discourse must at least be well versed in the philosophy of life, and possess a fair acquaintance with general and natural history, and the outlines of science. And though he need be neither a poet nor an artist, he must be well read in poetry and acquainted with fine arts; because it is only by their study that taste can be cultivated and fancy guided. A familiarity with the fine arts is necessary, in fact, to give him a just perception of the sublime and beautiful, the very foundation whence our emotions of delight must arise. Any one attempting to shine in conversation, without possessing the trifling acquirements here mentioned,—for I have said nothing of learning and science,—will most assuredly make an indifferent figure, and had better therefore content himself with simply pleasing by unaffected cheerfulness and good humor, which is within reach of all.
As to subjects for conversation, what difficulty can there be about them? Will not books, balls, bonnets and metaphysics furnish pleasant topics of discourse? Can you not speak of the
"Philosophy and science, and the springs
Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world?"—
Are flirtations, traveling, love and speech-making at an end; or is the great globe itself and the weather on its surface so perfectly stationary that you can find nothing to say about them? No, no, let us not deceive ourselves; we never want subjects of conversation; but we often want the knowledge how to treat them; above all, how to bring them forward in a graceful and pleasing manner. We often want observation and a just estimate of character, and do not know how, in the present defective state of society, any passing remark intended to open a conversation may be received.
Cheerfulness, unaffected cheerfulness, a sincere desire to please and be pleased, unchecked by any efforts to shine, are the qualities you must bring with you into society, if you wish to succeed in conversation. Under the influence of their recommendation, you may safely give the rein to fancy and hilarity, certain that, in a well-assorted party, you will make at least a favorable impression, if not a brilliant one. I do not of course mean by cheerfulness any outbreaking of loud and silly mirth, nor what the world sometimes calls a "high flow of spirits," but a light and airy equanimity of temper,—that spirit which never rises to boisterousness, and never sinks to immovable dullness; that moves gracefully from "grave to gay, from serious to serene," and by mere manner gives proof of a feeling heart and generous mind.
Franklin says, that you must never contradict in conversation, nor correct facts if wrongly stated. This is going much too far; you must never contradict in a short, direct, or positive tone; but with politeness, you may easily, when necessary, express a difference of opinion in a graceful and even complimentary manner. And I would almost say, that the art of conversation consists in knowing how to contradict, and when to be silent; for, as to constantly acting a fawning and meanly deferential part in society, it is offensive to all persons of good sense and good feeling. In regard to facts wrongly stated, no well-bred man ever thinks of correcting them, merely to show his wisdom in trifles; but with politeness, it is perfectly easy to rectify an error, when the nature of the conversation demands the explanation.
Whenever the lady or gentleman with whom you are discussing a point, whether of love, war, science or politics, begins to sophisticate, drop the subject instantly. Your adversary either wants the ability to maintain his opinion,—and then it would be uncivil to press it—or he wants the still more useful ability to yield the point with unaffected grace and good-humor; or what is also possible, his vanity is in some way engaged in defending views on which he may probably have acted, so that to demolish his opinions is perhaps to reprove his conduct, and no well-bred man goes into society for the purpose of sermonizing.