Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton’s secretary, Mr. Nixon, on his own showing, could not refrain from blurting out just what he felt at the moment, when differences arose between the two. This used to vex Sir Thomas, who however would say nothing till the next day, and then, when the secretary thought that the whole matter had passed off (having perhaps received great kindness in the meantime), the remonstrance would come out, “What a silly fellow you were, Nixon, to put yourself in such a passion yesterday! If I had spoken then, we should most probably have parted. Make it a rule never to speak when you are in a passion, but wait till the next day.” And we are assured that, if at any time he happened to transgress this rule himself, he was seriously vexed and grieved, and could not rest till he had in some way made amends for his want of self-restraint.
Molière’s Arnolphe propounds the prophylactic rule with emphasis and discretion:
“Un certain Grec disait à l’empereur Auguste,
Comme une instruction utile autant que juste,
Que lorsqu’une aventure en colére nous met,
Nous devons, avant tout, dire nôtre alphabet,
Afin que dans ce temps la bile se tempère,
Et qu’on ne fasse rien que l’on ne doive faire.”
