Conversation Pieces

Irish Jesuit Province

Conversation PiecesAuthor(s): Emily HughesSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 71, No. 846 (Dec., 1943), pp. 494-500Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20515201 .

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494

Conversation Pieces

By EMILY HUGHES

IrrjH thee conversing," sang Shakespeare, " I forget all timne." rThere is no rarer luxury in the world than good conversation. It is like health or

laughter or sunshine-it costs nothing, and no amount of money will buy it. Most often a good conversation is a happy acci dent; the chance gathering of a group wvhere affection is strong enough to withstand good-natured derision or impulsive con tradiction, wiere common interests obviate the necessity of constant prefacing and explaining, and each mnember of the com pany is content to be where he is, and at peace with all the world.

Write rs and professors, unfortunately, tend to beconme nonologists. From the passivity of the public or the classes

which thley entertain or admonish they unconsciously acquire the notion that in ordiniary life a similar respectful silence is their due. Monologues have no place in conversation. A quick give-and-take, a light tossing of the ball from one player to another, are the elemnents of those oecasions that " tire the sun with talking, and send him down the sky ".

fhe Brains Trust, that repository of miscellaneous informa tion, recently sought an answer to the question: " What

makes a good conversationalist?" Several of the great moguls plumped for one essential qualification-the aspirant must become a good listener. That betrayed them. Monologists themselves, by training and profession, their days are spent in the



CONVERSATION PIECES 495

search for good, quiet, biddable listeners, who will never inter rupt with despairingly irrelevant comments or bursts of wild laughter. Good listeners are in constant danger of losing their powers of speech through lack of practice, and this is only what they deserve; for these spiritless good listeners are responsible for the existence of that menace to society, the Bore.

Hilaire Belloc once wrote a Guide to Boring, frome which by inverse reasoning a Guide to non-Boring may be deduicted. Some of it went as follows :

"The choice of su-bject for Boring is of not great conse

quence. Any subject can be made interesting and, therefore, any subject can be made boring; but the method is all-important. The first rule I w-ould give in this matter is to speak in a sing-song, or at any rate wvith continuous

repeated rhythm and accent.... Another very uiseful tip is the bringing in of useless detail and the branching of it

ouit into a luxurious growth of irrelevance.... Thus, it is a very good plan to open with hesitation over a date: It

was in July, 1921-no, now I come to think of it, it must have been 1920, because (then tell them why it inust have been 1920). 'No, now I tlhink of it, it must have

been 1921 ' (then tell them wvhy it was '21) or was it 1922? Anyway, it was July, and the year doesn't matter; the whole point lies in the month.' That is a capital begin ning, especially the last words, which indicate to the bored

one that you have deliberately wasted his time to no purpose.'?

Conflict is the essence of drama, and as eaclh conversation has dramatic possibilities about it, conflict cannot be absent. As



49, THE IRISH MONTHL Y

long ago as the 16th century, Montaigne wvas describing his prowess on this field:

"If I conferre with a stubborne wit, and encounter a sturdy wrestler, he toucheth me to the quick, hits me on the flanks, and pricks me both on the left and right side; his imaginations vanquish and confound mine. . . . I love to contest and discourse. . . . I receive all blowes and allow all attaints given directly, how weake soever: but am very imypatient at such as are strucken at randan and without

oider. I care but little for the matter, and with me opinions are all one, and the victory of the subjeet in a

mnanner indifferent,"

and as recently as last year, the novelist Evelyn Waugh, without mixing his metaphors in the grand, or Montaignesque, manner,

used a very similar figure to describe a character in his book, Pu;tt Oit More Flags:

" Ambrose lived in and for coniversation; he rejoiced in

the whole intricate art of it-the timing and striking the proper juxtaposition of narrative and comment, the buirsts of spontaneouLs parody, the allutsion one would recognise and o.ne 'vould not, the changes of alliance, the betravals, the

liplomlatic revoluitions, the wvaxing and wvaning of dictator ships that could lhappen in an hiouir's session abouit the table.

People wlhose miiost brilliant ideas ocecur to thenri wvhen all

opportunity of utterance is past-suffererbs fronm what is called in France esprit d'escalier, or the wit of the staircase (which one is descending on the way ouit, fuill of epigrams unspoken)-will feel for Charles Ljanmb, the pleasantest of company in his essays,



CON V7ERSA TION PIECES 497

but an unfortunate conversationalist. His stammer was against him; he could not help that. His outrageous puns were against him-he would not help them. He enjoyed his puns. He wrote his owvn speech for the defence in this passage about

Elia ", which nmust soften the coldest ptrist's heart:

"Few uinderstood hinm; and I anm not certain that at all times he quite understood hinmself. He too much affected that dangerous figure-irony. He sowed doibtful ?peeches, an& reaped plain, unequivocal hatred. . . . Your Jong and much talkers hated him. The informlal hiabit of his

mind, joined to an inveterate impediment of speech, for

bade him to be an orator; and he seemed determined that no one else shouild play that part wlhen he was present. I have seen him sometinmes in w.hat is called good company. but where lie has been a stranger, sit sileint, and be sus pected for an odd fellow; till some uinlucky occasion provok ing it, he wvouild stutter out some senseless pun (nlot aIltogether senseless perhaps, if rightly taken) which has stamped his character for the evening. It was hit or miss With him ; buit nine times out of ten, he contrived by this device to send awav a whole company his enemnies."

Few will fail to take sides wvith Elia against the long and much talkers ", at whose hands we have all stffered from tinm to time. If by his shattering contribution to the discouirse in the shape of a silly puin he pricked the bubble of such a talker's voltubility, surely he had more friends among the company thian he guessed.

T'o handle the talk of a large comnpany in the pages of a novel is a sure mark of a compet('nt writei, for no other is able to keep eaeh remark in character with the person w ho malakes it,



498 T1HE IRISH MONTHLY

emphasising the changing relationships-the betrayals and diplomatic revolutions-of the talkers while the plot develops. It is this perfection of technique that has made Jane Austen a classical writer. Here is an abridged version of just such a con versation from " Mansfield Park ". A number of amateur actors are discussing the casting of the parts in their play:

Mr Yates was particularly pleased. To storm through Baron Wildenheim was the height of his theatrical ambition. Renmembering, however, thAt there was some very good ranting grouand in Frederick, he professed an equal willingness for that.

'.Henry Crawford was ready to take either. Whichever Mr. Yates did not choose would perfectly satisfy him, and a short parley of compliments ensued. Miss Bertram, feeling all the interest of an Agatha in the question, took on her to decide it, by observing to Mr. Yates that this was a point in which height and figure ought to be considered, and that his being the tallest seemed to fit him peculiarly for the Baron. She was ackhnow ledged to be quite right, and the two parts being accepted

accordingly, she was certain of the proper Frederick. Thent Julia, meaning, like her sister, to be Agatha, began to be scrupulous on Miss Crawford's account.

'This is not behaving well by the absent,' said she, ' Aielia and Agatha mav do for Maria and me, buit there is nothing for your sister, Mr. Crawford.'

Mr. Crawford desired that might not be thought of; he was very sure his sister had no wish of acting. But this was immedi ately opposed by Tom Bertram, who asserted the part of Amnelia to be in every respect the property of Miss Crawford, if she would accept it.

" A short silence followed. Each sister- looked anxious; for each felt the best claim to Agatha, and was hoping to have it



CONVERSATION PIECES 499

pressed on her by the rest. Henry Crawford, with seeming carelessness, soon settled the business.

" ' I must entreat Miss Julia Bertram,' said he, ' not to engage in the part of Agatha, or it will be the ruin of all my solemnity. The many laughs we have had together would infallibly come across me, and Frederick and his knapsack would be obliged to run away.

" Pleasantly, courteously, it was spoken; but the manner was lost in the matter to Juilia's feelings. She saw a glance at

Maria. which confirmed the injury to herself; it was a scheme, a trick she WVas slighted. Before she could command herself enoiugh to speak, her brother gave his weight against her too, by saying:

'Oh yes! Maria m-ust be Agatha. Though Julia fancies she prefers tragedy, I would not trust her in it. She had better do the old countrywoman, the Cottager's wife; you had, indeed, Julia.

Cottager's wcife!' cried Mr. Yates. 'What are you talk ing of? Youir sister do that! It is an insult to propose it. At F;eclesford the governess was to have done it. We all agreed it could not be offered to anybody else.'

P14 I mean no disparagement to Julia. We cannot have two

1Agathas, and wve muist have one Cottager's wife; and I am sure I set her the example of moderation myself in being satisfied

with the old Butler!' " ' We must not allow your sister's good nature to be im

posed upon,' said Henry Crawford. ' Her talents will be wanted in Amelia. I consider Amelia is the nmost difficult character in the whole piece. I have seen good actresses fail in the part. It requires a delicacy of feeling which they have not. It requires a gentlewoman-a Julia Bertram. You will undertake it, I hope?'



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T;rrhe influence of hiis voice was felt. Julia wavered, but was he only trying to soothe and pacify hier, and make her overlook the previous affront? She looked suspiciously at her sister;

Maria's countenance was to decide it; if she were vexed and alarmed-but Maria looked all serenity and satisfaction, and Julia well knew that on this ground Maria could not be happy but at her expense.

As to Amelia,' she cried, Nvith angry quickness, it is of all parts in the wvorld the most disgustinig to me. I quiite detest her. An odious, little, pert, unnatural, impudent girl. I have always protested against comedy, and this is comnedy in its worst form,' and so saying, she walked hastily out of the room."



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