[14:1] Prov. x. 7.
[20:1] See Numbers 72, 74, and 98, of the Rambler.
[22:1] See Village Sermons.
[26:1] See Jones’s Letters from a Tutor to his Pupils.
LETTER III.
CONVERSATION.
MY DEAR NEPHEW,
I take it for granted, that upon first going from school to Oxford, and entering into society different, in many respects, from any that you have hitherto been accustomed to, you feel some of that shyness which belongs to the character of most Englishmen. I should be sorry if you did not. You probably feel diffident, too, of your ability to bear your part in general conversation, and an apprehension of being, on that account, set down as a stupid fellow. But don’t be uneasy. More young men, I am persuaded, hurt themselves by talking too much, than by talking too little. When a fresh-man, at first starting, is quite at his ease, and talks readily upon any subject that happens to be uppermost, some of his companions may be amused at his coolness, but most of them will be disgusted. If, by your look and manner, you show that you are alive to what is said by others, and now and then throw in a remark, not destitute of meaning, you will be more generally popular than one of those random talkers. Men of a certain standing, qualified by their liveliness or by their information to bear a leading part in conversation, do not like to see an undue share of it engrossed by others, especially by a mere youngster. They greatly prefer a good listener to a ready talker.
Young practitioners in Doctors’ Commons have, I believe, to pass through their year of silence, before they are allowed to speak. During the period of silence, they quietly observe, and become acquainted with, the usages and practice of the court. Something similar to this period of quiet observation, might not be inexpedient for a noviciate in society. At all events, never talk for talking’s sake; never speak unless you have something to say worth attending to.
You will, I am sure, my dear nephew, take it in good part, if I point out a few of the conversational faults, of which young men are apt to be guilty. It is natural that we should talk most of that in which we are most interested. Now, of all things in the world, a young man feels most interested in himself. But if, in consequence of such feeling, he ventures to talk much of himself, of his own habits, his own pursuits, his own feelings, his own achievements, he will very soon be set down as a bore and a conceited coxcomb. A young man naturally feels a strong interest, an interest increased by separation, in his own immediate family. This feeling, with some young men, is so deep, that they shun the mention of any thing closely connected with their home as a sort of profanation, a desecration of things sacred. With others, this feeling takes the opposite direction, and leads them—celebrare domestica facta—to introduce the concerns of their own nearest relations into the conversation of a mixed party. Take care that you never are guilty of such a violation of good taste and correct judgment. Interesting as your home and its inmates are to you, nothing can well be less interesting to those, who are unacquainted with them. It will be a stretch of courtesy and good-nature, if they tolerate the mention of them without some expression either of ridicule or of distaste. If you speak of your home-concerns at all, let it be only to one or two intimate friends, who, from the regard which they feel for you, may be supposed to take an interest in all belonging to you.