memories and portraits-第16章

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unready　man　I　ever　knew　to　shine　in　conversation。　　You　may　see　him　

sometimes　wrestle　with　a　refractory　jest　for　a　minute　or　two　

together；　and　perhaps　fail　to　throw　it　in　the　end。　　And　there　is　

something　singularly　engaging；　often　instructive；　in　the　simplicity　

with　which　he　thus　exposes　the　process　as　well　as　the　result；　the　

works　as　well　as　the　dial　of　the　clock。　　Withal　he　has　his　hours　of　

inspiration。　　Apt　words　come　to　him　as　if　by　accident；　and；　coming　

from　deeper　down；　they　smack　the　more　personally；　they　have　the　

more　of　fine　old　crusted　humanity；　rich　in　sediment　and　humour。　　

There　are　sayings　of　his　in　which　he　has　stamped　himself　into　the　

very　grain　of　the　language；　you　would　think　he　must　have　worn　the　

words　next　his　skin　and　slept　with　them。　　Yet　it　is　not　as　a　sayer　

of　particular　good　things　that　Athelred　is　most　to　he　regarded；　

rather　as　the　stalwart　woodman　of　thought。　　I　have　pulled　on　a　

light　cord　often　enough；　while　he　has　been　wielding　the　broad…axe；　

and　between　us；　on　this　unequal　division；　many　a　specious　fallacy　

has　fallen。　　I　have　known　him　to　battle　the　same　question　night　

after　night　for　years；　keeping　it　in　the　reign　of　talk；　constantly　

applying　it　and　re…applying　it　to　life　with　humorous　or　grave　

intention；　and　all　the　while；　never　hurrying；　nor　flagging；　nor　

taking　an　unfair　advantage　of　the　facts。　　Jack　at　a　given　moment；　

when　arising；　as　it　were；　from　the　tripod；　can　be　more　radiantly　

just　to　those　from　whom　he　differs；　but　then　the　tenor　of　his　

thoughts　is　even　calumnious；　while　Athelred；　slower　to　forge　

excuses；　is　yet　slower　to　condemn；　and　sits　over　the　welter　of　the　

world；　vacillating　but　still　judicial；　and　still　faithfully　

contending　with　his　doubts。



Both　the　last　talkers　deal　much　in　points　of　conduct　and　religion　

studied　in　the　〃dry　light〃　of　prose。　　Indirectly　and　as　if　against　

his　will　the　same　elements　from　time　to　time　appear　in　the　troubled　

and　poetic　talk　of　Opalstein。　　His　various　and　exotic　knowledge；　

complete　although　unready　sympathies；　and　fine；　full；　

discriminative　flow　of　language；　fit　him　out　to　be　the　best　of　

talkers；　so　perhaps　he　is　with　some；　not　quite　with　me　…　PROXIME　

ACCESSIT；　I　should　say。　　He　sings　the　praises　of　the　earth　and　the　

arts；　flowers　and　jewels；　wine　and　music；　in　a　moonlight；　

serenading　manner；　as　to　the　light　guitar；　even　wisdom　comes　from　

his　tongue　like　singing；　no　one　is；　indeed；　more　tuneful　in　the　

upper　notes。　　But　even　while　he　sings　the　song　of　the　Sirens；　he　

still　hearkens　to　the　barking　of　the　Sphinx。　　Jarring　Byronic　notes　

interrupt　the　flow　of　his　Horatian　humours。　　His　mirth　has　

something　of　the　tragedy　of　the　world　for　its　perpetual　background；　

and　he　feasts　like　Don　Giovanni　to　a　double　orchestra；　one　lightly　

sounding　for　the　dance；　one　pealing　Beethoven　in　the　distance。　　He　

is　not　truly　reconciled　either　with　life　or　with　himself；　and　this　

instant　war　in　his　members　sometimes　divides　the　man's　attention。　　

He　does　not　always；　perhaps　not　often；　frankly　surrender　himself　in　

conversation。　　He　brings　into　the　talk　other　thoughts　than　those　

which　he　expresses；　you　are　conscious　that　he　keeps　an　eye　on　

something　else；　that　he　does　not　shake　off　the　world；　nor　quite　

forget　himself。　　Hence　arise　occasional　disappointments；　even　an　

occasional　unfairness　for　his　companions；　who　find　themselves　one　

day　giving　too　much；　and　the　next；　when　they　are　wary　out　of　

season；　giving　perhaps　too　little。　　Purcel　is　in　another　class　from　

any　I　have　mentioned。　　He　is　no　debater；　but　appears　in　

conversation；　as　occasion　rises；　in　two　distinct　characters；　one　of　

which　I　admire　and　fear；　and　the　other　love。　　In　the　first；　he　is　

radiantly　civil　and　rather　silent；　sits　on　a　high；　courtly　hilltop；　

and　from　that　vantage…ground　drops　you　his　remarks　like　favours。　　

He　seems　not　to　share　in　our　sublunary　contentions；　he　wears　no　

sign　of　interest；　when　on　a　sudden　there　falls　in　a　crystal　of　wit；　

so　polished　that　the　dull　do　not　perceive　it；　but　so　right　that　the　

sensitive　are　silenced。　　True　talk　should　have　more　body　and　blood；　

should　be　louder；　vainer　and　more　declaratory　of　the　man；　the　true　

talker　should　not　hold　so　steady　an　advantage　over　whom　he　speaks　

with；　and　that　is　one　reason　out　of　a　score　why　I　prefer　my　Purcel　

in　his　second　character；　when　he　unbends　into　a　strain　of　graceful　

gossip；　singing　like　the　fireside　kettle。　　In　these　moods　he　has　an　

elegant　homeliness　that　rings　of　the　true　Queen　Anne。　　I　know　

another　person　who　attains；　in　his　moments；　to　the　insolence　of　a　

Restoration　comedy；　speaking；　I　declare；　as　Congreve　wrote；　but　

that　is　a　sport　of　nature；　and　scarce　falls　under　the　rubric；　for　

there　is　none；　alas！　to　give　him　answer。



One　last　remark　occurs：　It　is　the　mark　of　genuine　conversation　that　

the　sayings　can　scarce　be　quoted　with　their　full　effect　beyond　the　

circle　of　common　friends。　　To　have　their　proper　weight　they　should　

appear　in　a　biography；　and　with　the　portrait　of　the　speaker。　　Good　

talk　is　dramatic；　it　is　like　an　impromptu　piece　of　acting　where　

each　should　represent　himself　to　the　greatest　advantage；　and　that　

is　the　best　kind　of　talk　where　each　speaker　is　most　fully　and　

candidly　himself；　and　where；　if　you　were　to　shift　the　speeches　

round　from　one　to　another；　there　would　be　the　greatest　loss　in　

significance　and　perspicuity。　　It　is　for　this　reason　that　talk　

depends　so　wholly　on　our　company。　　We　should　like　to　introduce　

Falstaff　and　Mercutio；　or　Falstaff　and　Sir　Toby；　but　Falstaff　in　

talk　with　Cordelia　seems　even　painful。　　Most　of　us；　by　the　Protean　

quality　of　man；　can　talk　to　some　degree　with　all；　but　the　true　

talk；　that　strikes　out　all　the　slumbering　best　of　us；　comes　only　

with　the　peculiar　brethren　of　our　spirits；　is　founded　as　deep　as　

love　in　the　constitution　of　our　being；　and　is　a　thing　to　relish　

with　all　our　energy；　while　yet　we　have　it；　and　to　be　grateful　for　

forever。











CHAPTER　XI。　TALK　AND　TALKERS　（6）





II





IN　the　last　paper　there　was　perhaps　too　much　about　mere　debate；　and　

there　was　nothing　said　at　all　about　that　kind　of　talk　which　is　

merely　luminous　and　restful；　a　higher　power　of　silence；　the　quiet　

of　the　evening　shared　by　ruminating　friends。　　There　is　something；　

aside　from　personal　preference；　to　be　alleged　in　support　of　this　

omission。　　Those　who　are　no　chimney…cornerers；　who　rejoice　in　the　

social　thunderstorm；　have　a　ground　in　reason　for　their　choice。　　

They　get　little　rest　indeed；　but　restfulness　is　a　quality　for　

cattle；　the　virtues　are　all　active；　life　is　alert；　and　it　is　in　

repose　that　men　prepare　themselves　for　evil。　　On　the　other　hand；　

they　are　bruised　into　a　knowledge　of　themselves　and　others；　they　

have　in　a　high　degree　the　fencer's　pleasure　in　dexterity　displayed　

and　proved；　what　they　get　they　get　upon　life's　terms；　paying　for　it　

as　they　go；　and　once　the　talk　is　launched；　they　are　assured　of　

honest　dealing　from　an　adversary　eager　like　themselves。　　The　

aboriginal　man　within　us；　the　cave…dweller；　still　lusty　as　when　he　

fought　tooth　and　nail　for　roots　and　berries；　scents　this　kind　of　

equal　battle　from　afar；　it　is　like　his　old　primaeval　days　upon　the　

crags；　a　return　to　the　sincerity　of　savage　life　from　the　

comfortable　fictions　of　the　civilised。　　And　if　it　be　delightful　to　

the　Old　Man；　it　is　none　the　less　profitable　to　his　younger　brother；　

the　conscientious　gentleman　I　feel　never　quite　sure　of　your　urbane　

and　smiling　coteries；　I　fear　they　indulge　a　man's　vanities　in　

silence；　suffer　him　to　encroach；　encourage　him　on　to　be　an　ass；　and　

send　him　forth　again；　not　merely　contemned　for　the　moment；　but　

radically　more　contemptible　than　when　he　entered。　　But　if　I　have　a　

flushed；　blustering　fellow　for　my　opposite；　bent　on　carrying　a　

point；　my　vanity　is　sure　to　have　its　ears　rubbed；　once　at　least；　in　

the　course　of　the　debate。　　He　will　not　spare　me　when　we　differ；　he　

will　not　fear　to　demonstrate　my　folly　to　my　face。



For　many　natures　there　is　not　much　charm　in　the　still；　chambered　

society；　the　circle　of　bland　countenances；　the　digestive　silence；　

the　admired　remark；　the　flutter　of　affectionate　approval。　　They　

demand　more　atmosphere　and　exercise；　〃a　gale　upon　their　spirits；〃　

as　our　pious　ancestors　would　phrase　it；　to　have　their　wits　well　

breathed　in　an　uproarious　Valhalla。　　And　I　suspect　that　the　choice；　

given　their　character　and　faults；　is　one　to　be　defended。　　The　

purely　wise　are　silenced　by　facts；　they　talk　in　a　clear　atmosphere；　

problems　lying　around　them　like　a　view　in　nature；　if　they　can　be　

shown　to　be　somewhat　in　the　wrong；　they　digest　the　reproof　like　a　

thrashing；　and　make　better　intellectual　blood。　　They　stand　

corrected　by　a　whisper；　a　word　or　a　glance　reminds　them　of　the　

great　eternal　law。　　But　it　is　not　so　with　all。　　Others　in　

conversation　seek　rather　contact　with　their　fellow…men　than　

increase　of　knowledge　or　clarity　of　thought。　　The　drama；　not　the　

philosophy；　of　life　is　the　sphere　of　their　intellectual　activity。　　

Even　when　they　pursue　truth；　they　desire　as　much　as　possible　of　

what　we　may　call　human　scenery　along　the　road　they　follow。　　They　

dwell　in　the　heart　of　life；　the　blood　sounding　in　their　ears；　their　

eyes　laying　hold　of　what　delights　them　with　a　brutal　avidity　that　

makes　them　blind　to　all　besides；　their　interest　riveted　on　people；　

living；　loving；　talking；　tangible　people。　　To　a　man　of　this　

description；　the　sphere　of　argument　seems　very　pale　and　ghostly。　　

By　a　strong　expression；　a　perturbed　countenance；　floods　of　tears；　

an　insult　which　his　conscience　obliges　him　to　swallow；　he　is　

brought　round　to　knowledge　which　no　syllogism　would　have　conveyed　

to　him。　　His　own　experience　is　so　vivid；　he　is　so　superlatively　

conscious　of　himself；　that　if；　day　after　day；　he　is　allowed　to　

hector　and　hear　nothing　but　approving　echoes；　he　will　lose　his　hold　

on　the　soberness　of　things　and　take　himself　in　earnest　for　a　god。　　

Talk　might　be　to　such　an　one　the　very　way　of　moral　ruin；　the　school　

where　he　might　learn　to　be　at　once　intolerable　and　ridiculous。



This　character　is　perhaps　commoner　than　philosophers　suppose。　　And　

for　persons　of　that　stamp　to　learn　much　by　conversation；　they　must　

speak　with　their　superiors；　not　in　intellect；　for　that　is　a　

superiority　that　must　be　proved；　but　in　station。　　If　they　cannot　

find　a　friend　to　bully　them　for　their　good；　they　must　find　either　

an　old　man；　a　woman；　or　some　one　so　far　below　them　in　the　

artificial　order　of　society；　that　courtesy　may　he　particularly　

exercised。



The　best　teachers　are　the　aged。　　To　the　old　our　mouths　are　always　

partly　closed；　we　must　swallow　our　obvious　retorts　and　listen。　　

They　sit　above　our　heads；　on　life's　raised　dais；　and　appeal　at　once　

to　our　respect　and　pity。　　A　flavour　of　the　old　school；　a　touch　of　

something