“A man that speaketh too much, and museth but little and lightly,
Wasteth his mind in words, and is counted a fool among men:
But thou when thou hast thought, weave charily the web of meditation,
And clothe the ideal spirit in the suitable garments of speech.”
Note well the discretion of silence. What man ever involved himself in difficulties through silence? Who thinks another a fool because he does not talk? Keep quiet, and you may be looked upon as a wise man; open your mouth and all may see at once that you are a simpleton. Ben Jonson, speaking of one who was taken for a man of judgment while he was silent, says, “This man might have been a Counsellor of State, till he spoke; but having spoken, not the beadle of the ward.”
Lord Lytton tells of a groom who married a rich lady, and was in fear as to how he might be treated by the guests of his new household, on the score of his origin and knowledge: to whom a clergyman gave this advice, “Wear a black coat, and hold your tongue.” The groom acted on the advice, and was considered a gentlemanly and wise man.
The same author speaks of a man of “weighty name,” with whom he once met, but of whom he could make nothing in conversation. A few days after, a gentleman spoke to him about this “superior man,” when he received for a reply, “Well, I don’t think much of him. I spent the other day with him, and found him insufferably dull.” “Indeed,” said the gentleman, with surprise; “why, then I see how it is: Lord —— has been positively talking to you.”
This reminds one of the story told of Coleridge. He was once sitting at a dinner-table admiring a fellow guest opposite as a wise man, keeping himself in solemn and stately reserve, and resisting all inducements to join in the conversation of the occasion, until there was placed on the table a steaming dish of apple-dumplings, when the first sight of them broke the seal of the wise man’s intelligence, exclaiming with enthusiasm, “Them be the jockeys for me.”
Gay, in his fables, addressing himself to one of these talkers, says,—
“Had not thy forward, noisy tongue
Proclaim’d thee always in the wrong,
Thou might’st have mingled with the rest,
And ne’er thy foolish sense confess’d;
But fools, to talking ever prone,
Are sure to make their follies known.”
Mr. Monopolist, can you refrain a little longer while I say a few more words? I have in my possession several recipes for the cure of much talking, that I have gathered in the course of my reading, four of which I will kindly lay before you for consideration.
1. Give yourself to private writing; and thus pour out by the hand the floods which may drown the head. If the humour for much talking was partly drawn forth in this way, that which remained would be sufficient to drop out from the tongue.
2. In company with your superiors in wisdom, gravity, and circumstances, restrain your unreasonable indulgence of the talking faculty. It is thought this might promote modest and becoming silence on all other occasions. “One of the gods is within,” said Telemachus; upon occasion of which his father reproved his talking. “Be thou silent and say little; let thy soul be in thy hand, and under command; for this is the rite of the gods above.”