THE GIFT OF CONVERSATION.
CANON AINGER'S lecture on the art of conversation, delivered at Toynbee Hall on Saturday, is a little dis- appointing, at least in the probably imperfect Times' report. Himself a past master in the art, and with unusual knowledge of all who have preceded him, we expected from the Canon, perhaps foolishly, something a little more striking. He was, we imagine, a little fettered by his audience, for though all the thoughts are true and brightly expressed, rather a large proportion of them have already been honoured by the world's approval. That for conversation to be pleasant dis- cussion should not degenerate into argument; that fighting for victory generates neither sweetness nor light ; that an overplus of wit spoils talk ; that false cynicism taken up as a fashion wrecks intercourse; and that the highest art of conversation springs rather from the heart than the head,—these things may now, we think, be classed amidst accepted truths. We had hoped, as we sat down to read the lecture, for something a little newer, and especially for some explanation, if any can be given, of that power of interesting conversation which is given to some men and many women, and which seems to be in a measure independent alike of the intellect and the heart. The Canon in his lecture hardly recognises this side of his subject at all, speaking always of the power as one which, certain conditions being granted, may be exercised by any one. Is it not rather more in the nature of a gift than, if we understand him, he would be quite disposed to allow P It is not given often to the stupid, we should say never, but for a single case within our experience, but it is undoubtedly given to persons with little power of thought, and little of that kindness of heart or wish to give pleasure which Canon Ainger, accurately in the main, makes its principal sources. No amount of knowledge will impart it; indeed, many men of learning are the dullest of talkers, and no quickness of apprehension will by itself confer it, else were all intelligent women good talkers ; it is a gift like another, like the felicity of expression often found in the shallow, or the charm which brings to some natures not invariably kindly or good, such general regard. It belongs to utter cynics like Chesterfield and Talleyrand, and to men in whom a kind of radiance of benevolence accentuates, though it does not produce, the charm of their talk. It is culturab]e, no doubt, like every other faculty, even the poetic; but though it can be developed, it cannot be produced by culture, which often leaves men who have tried to make themselves talkers, and who both recognise and obey all Canon Ainger's rules, slightly tiresome. To good conversation something of spon- taneity is essential, and that is a quality which nothing can convey, and which is destroyed the moment those who converse are thinking about either the merit or demerit of the conversation. Just and wise as Canon Ainger's lecture was, we had much rather hear the conversa- tion of any four of his audience after they had for- gotten his words, than while his counsel as to what to avoid and seek, was fresh in their memories. Conversa- tion, to be at its best, should bubble up like laughter. If any one doubts this view, he must have forgotten his own school- days, and the charm of the few boys who could talk, and who were seldom heads of the school ; or have never listened unobserved to the talk of children, among a group of whom almost always one or two can from the first converse, their elders do not know why. The rest can only narrate or argue. There is an art of conversation, no doubt, as there is an art of painting and an art of music; but the power to be a con- verser—strange that we should have no word more narrowly defined than "talker "—belongs, as a separate thing, not only to individuals, but to races, our own being singularly deficient. Cultivated Englishmen converse, but the body of the people can only narrate, and that not very well; while almost all Irishmen can keep up what, whether the thought in it be wise or foolish, is genuine conversation,—that is, a quick interchange of ideas in a comprehensible and, to the speakers and hearers, pleasant form. The talk of an English inn parlour is almost always a monologue by some one person, with remarks thereon of assent or dissent by the remainder, and that is not con- vereation. In fact, while all that Canon Ainger said is as true as it is happily expressed, there goes to good conver- sation something else of which he said nothing, the presence of those who can converse, which is not as yet among
Englishmen a majority. The latter need stimulus of some kind before they can converse, and even then slide off into narration, anecdotage, or the enjoyment—certainly to many Englishmen it is an enjoyment—of listening without response.
Whether the English will, as a body, improve in this matter is still doubtful. On the one hand, the utility of conversation decreases, and so do the opportunities for it. Fifty years ago men were greatly dependent on conversation for infor- mation, and frequented each others' society for that reason,— to hear what was going on, to gather opinions, and even to receive what was really counsel and criticism. Nowadays all that work is done by the newspapers, with the result that everybody knows the same things at the same time, and that there is a sameness, at least of superficial opinion, which makes talk rather dull. You hear, of course, new thoughts now and then, and discussion sometimes clarifies opinions; but the old "Athenian" eagerness for conversation has departed, like the habit of sitting in taverns to enjoy it. More is, in fact, to be obtained from the new habit of reading many papers, and striking a balance among their ideas,—a habit which, we fancy, though it may be only fancy, renders men less receptive with their ears. They like to see what is said rather than to hear it, imagining or feeling that thus they can think more clearly for themselves. The utility of talk is declining just when the opportunities for it grow less. There are the clubs to be sure, and the habit of talk is still strong among club groups, but general society has grown too large for conversation except of the very thinnest kind. Men immersed in the business of life meet more seldom, and grow more and more inclined to think that time expended in what they describe as "chat," is time thrown away. There is no inclination that we know of to depreciate conversation as an enjoyment, and indeed, in the country its value in that sense is constantly acknowledged, but it is only an enjoyment, for which men in the general extinction of leisure have less time and inclination. Less sacrifice in fact is made to obtain it, and its excellence should therefore gradually decline. This is said to have occurred in France in a very marked degree, and we suspect it is occurring in England, at least there seems to be less attractive matter in reported con- versations. On the other band, the number of the intelligent grows greater, the young have been set much more free to talk if they can—a privilege of which young women at all events avail themselves—and with the rapid and probably final decay of drinking among the cultivated, after-dinner talk should be indefinitely better. It has become in the judgment of all the old far more varied and thoughtful than it was. The pro- babilities therefore would seem to be about equal, and the result will probably depend upon some almost accidental change in manners and ways, like that which has undoubtedly increased the number of women who can talk well. They have learned the habit at 5 o'clock teas, which throw them together with nothing else to do. Leisure, in fact, is needful to the cul- tivation of conversation as an art ; and should leisure come to educated men they may again become habitual talkers in the sense of men eager for conversation. The body of the people are going to have this leisure, and their superiors may obtain it too before all is done. The cultivated of the Conti- nent get their business done in much fewer hours than our people do, and if work is ever more distributed, the easy ways of the beginning of the century, when nobody did anything after 4 o'clock, may recur once more. With shorter hours, the habit of meeting more frequently may revive, and with it undoubtedly would revive that conscious taste for conver- sation which, more rapidly than anything else, would make of it an art. It should then reach a high level, for of one thing we may be almost certain, that whatever the cause, better health, or variety of interests, or the new doubt whether anything is of importance, the tempers of the cultivated are decidedly improving. And if we study Canon Ainger's lecture carefully, we shall find much of his counsel resolve itself into this, that to make conversation bright, you must conduct it in a good-tempered way. The grand rule, "Never let conversation degenerate into debate," comes, after all, to that, though even that may require one qualification. The most instructive of all conversation is the conversation of two, and that may become debate without any of the consequences which Canon Ainger, who has avoided discussing this variety in his lecture, so skilfully pointed out.
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