Introductory Note
Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), one of the greatest of English satirists, was born in
Dublin and educated for the church at Trinity College in the same city. At the age of
twenty-two he became secretary to Sir William Temple, to whom he was related, and whose
works he edited. During his residence with Temple he wrote his "Tale of a Tub"
and the "Battle of the Books"; and on Temple's death he returned to Ireland,
where he held several livings. During his secretaryship he had gained a knowledge of
English politics, and in 1710 he left the Whig party and went over to the Tories, becoming
their ablest pen at a time when pamphleteering was an important means of influencing
politics. He was appointed Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin, by Queen Anne in 1713, and on
the fall of the Tories he retired to Ireland. He continued to write voluminously on
political, literary, and ecclesiastical topics, his best known work, "Gulliver's
Travels," being a political allegory. Several years before his death his brain became
diseased, and he suffered terribly till his mind was almost totally eclipsed.
In Swift's writings here printed will be found good examples of his treatment of
social and literary questions. The ironical humor running through this essay frequently
became, when he dealt with subjects on which he felt keenly, incredibly savage and at
times extremely coarse; but for the power of his invective and the effectiveness of his
sarcasm there is hardly a parallel in the language.
The Essay - 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.
