E’en while he speaks, his head rolls in the dust.[75]

Whereas if he could but have held his peace and mastered his tongue for

a little while, till the king, as afterwards he did, had recovered his

good fortune and grandeur, he had been doubtless better rewarded for

his silence than he was for his hospitality. And yet this poor man had

some colorable excuse for letting his tongue at liberty; that is to

say, his hopes, and the kindness he had done the king.

13. But most of your twattlers, without any cause or pretence at all,

destroy themselves; as it happened when certain fellows began to talk

pretty freely in a barber’s shop concerning the tyranny of Dionysius,

that it was as secure and inexpugnable as a rock of adamant: I wonder,

quoth the barber, laughing, that you should talk these things before me

concerning Dionysius, whose throat is almost every day under my razor.

Which scurrilous freedom of the barber being related to the tyrant,

he caused him forthwith to be crucified. And indeed the generality of

barbers are a prating generation of men; in regard the most loquacious

praters usually resort to their shops, and there sit prattling; from

whence the barbers also learn an ill habit of twattling. Pleasant

therefore was the answer of Archelaus to the barber who, after he had

cast the linen toilet about his shoulders, put this question to him,

How shall I trim your majesty; In silence, quoth the king. It was

a barber that first reported the news of the great overthrow which

the Athenians received in Sicily; for being the first that heard the

relation of it in the Piraeus, from a servant of one of those who had

escaped out of the battle, he presently left his shop at sixes and

sevens, and flew into the city as fast as his heels could carry him,

For fear some other should the honor claim

Of being first, when he but second came.[76]

Now you may be sure that the first spreader of this news caused a

great hubbub in the city, insomuch that the people, thronging together

in the market-place, made diligent enquiry for the first divulger.

Presently the barber was brought by head and shoulders to the crowd,

and examined; but he could give no account of his author, only one that

he never saw or knew in his life before had told him the news. Which so

incensed the multitude, that they immediately cried out, To the rack

with the traitor, tie the lying rascal neck and heels together. This

is a mere story of the rogue’s own making. Who heard it? Who gave any

credit to it beside himself? At the same instant the wheel was brought

out, and the poor barber stretched upon it,—not to his ease, you may

be sure. And then it was, and not before, that the news of the defeat

was confirmed by several that had made a hard shift to escape the

slaughter. Upon which the people scattered every one to his own home,

to make their private lamentation for their particular losses, leaving

the unfortunate barber bound fast to the wheel; in which condition he

continued till late in the evening, before he was let loose. Nor would

this reform the impertinent fool; for no sooner was he at liberty but

he would needs be enquiring of the executioner, what news, and what

was reported of the manner of Nicias the general’s being slain. So

inexpugnable and incorrigible a vice is loquacity, gotten by custom and

ill habit, that they cannot leave it off, though they were sure to be

hanged.

14. And yet we find that people have the same antipathy against

divulgers of bad tidings, as they that drink bitter and distasteful

potions have against the cups wherein they drank them. Elegant

therefore is the dispute in Sophocles between the messenger and Creon:

MESSENGER. By what I tell and what you hear,

Do I offend your heart or ear?

CREON. Why so inquisitive to sound

My grief, and search the painful wound?

MESSENGER. My news afflicts thy ears, I find,

But ’tis the fact torments thy mind.[77]

Thus they that bring us bad tidings are as bad as they who are the

authors of our misery; and yet there is no restraining or correcting

the tongue that will run at random.

It happened that the temple of Minerva in Lacedaemon called Chalcioecus

was robbed, and nothing but an earthen pitcher left behind; which

caused a great concourse of people, where every one spent his verdict

about the empty pitcher. Gentlemen, says one, pray give me leave to

tell ye my opinion concerning this pitcher. I am apt to believe, that

these sacrilegious villains, before they ventured upon so dangerous

an attempt, drank each of them a draught of hemlock juice, and then

brought wine along with them in this pitcher; to the end that, if it

were their good hap to escape without being apprehended, they might

soon dissolve and extinguish the strength and vigor of the venom by the

force of the wine unmixed and pure; but if they should be surprised and

taken in the fact, that then they might die without feeling any pain

under the torture of the rack. Having thus said, the people, observing

so much forecast and contrivance in the thing, would not be persuaded

that any man could have such ready thoughts upon a bare conjecture,

but that he must know it to be so. Thereupon, immediately gathering

about him, one asked who he was; another, who knew him; a third, how he

came to be so much a philosopher. And at length, they did so sift and

canvass and fetch him about, that the fellow confessed himself to be

one of those that committed the sacrilege.

And were not they who murdered the poet Ibycus discovered after the

same manner, as they sat in the theatre? For as they were sitting there

under the open sky to behold the public pastimes, they observed a flock

of cranes flying over their heads; upon which they whispered merrily

one to another, Look, yonder are the revengers of Ibycus’s death.

Which words being overheard by some that sat next them,—in regard that

Ibycus had been long missing but could not be found, though diligent

search had been made after him,—they presently gave information of

what they had heard to the magistrates. By whom being examined and

convicted, they suffered condign punishment, though not betrayed by

the cranes, but by the incontinency of their own tongues, and by an

avenging Erinnys hovering over their heads and constraining them to

confess the murder. For as in the body, wounded and diseased members

draw to themselves the vicious humors of the neighboring parts; in

like manner, the unruly tongues of babblers, infested (as it were)

with inflammations where a sort of feverish pulses continually lie

beating, will be always drawing to themselves something of the secret

and private concerns of other men. And therefore the tongue ought to

be environed with reason, as with a rampart perpetually lying before

it, like a mound, to stop the overflowing and slippery exuberance of

impertinent talk; that we may not seem to be more silly than geese,

which, when they take their flight out of Cilicia over the mountain

Taurus, which abounds with eagles, are reported to carry every one

a good big stone in their bills, instead of a bridle or barricado,

to restrain their gaggling. By which means they cross those hideous

forests in the night-time undiscovered.

15. Now then if the question should be asked, Which are the worst and

most pernicious sort of people? I do not believe there is any man

that would omit to name a traitor. By treason it was that Euthycrates

covered the uppermost story of his house with Macedonian timber,

according to the report of Demosthenes; that Philocrates, having

received a good sum of money, spent it upon whores and fish; and that

Euphorbus and Philagrus, who betrayed Eretria, were so well rewarded by

the king with ample possessions. But a prattler is a sort of traitor

that no man needs to hire, for that he offers himself officiously and

of his own accord. Nor does he betray to the enemy either horse or

walls; but whatever he knows of public or private concerns requiring

the greatest secrecy, that he discloses, whether it be in courts of

judicature, in conspiracies, or management of state affairs, ’tis

all one; he expects not so much as the reward of being thanked for

his pains; nay, rather he will return thanks to them that give him

audience. And therefore what was said upon a certain spendthrift that

rashly and without any discretion wasted his own estate by his lavish

prodigality to others,

Thou art not liberal; ’tis a disease

Of vainly giving, which does thee possess;

’Tis all to please thyself, what thou dost give,[78]

may well be retorted upon a common prattler:

Thou art no friend, nor dost to me impart,

For friendship’s sake, the secrets of thy heart;

But as thy tongue has neither bolt nor lock,

’Tis thy disease, that thou delight’st to talk.

16. Nor would I have the reader think that what has hitherto been

said has been discoursed so much to blame as to cure that vicious

and infectious malady of loquaciousness. For though we surmount and

vanquish the vices of the mind by judgment and exercise, yet must the

judgment precede. For no man will accustom himself to avoid and, as

it were, to extirpate out of his soul those vices, unless he first

abominate them. Nor can we ever detest those evil habits of the mind

as we ought to do, but when we rightly judge by reason’s light of the

prejudice they do us, and the ignominy we sustain thereby. For example,

we consider and find that these profuse babblers, desirous of being

beloved, are universally hated; while they study to gratify, they

become troublesome; while they seek to be admired, they are derided. If

they aim at profit, they lose all their labor; in short, they injure

their friends, advantage their enemies, and undo themselves. And

therefore the first remedy and cure for this spreading malady will be

this, to reckon up all the shameful infamies and disasters that attend

it.

17. The second remedy is to take into serious consideration the

practice of the opposite virtue, by always hearing, remembering, and

having ready at hand the due praises and encomiums of reservedness

and taciturnity, together with the majesty, sanctimony, and mysterious

profoundness of silence. Let them consider how much more beloved, how

much more admired, how far they are reputed to excel in prudence,

who deliver their minds in few words, roundly and sententiously, and

contract a great deal of sense within a small compass of speech, than

such as fly out into voluminous language, and suffer their tongues to

run before their wit. The former are those whom Plato so much praises,

and likens unto skilful archers, darting forth their sentences thick

and close, as it were crisped and curled one within another. To this

same shrewdness of expression Lycurgus accustomed his fellow-citizens

from their childhood by the exercise of silence, contracting and

thickening their discourse into a compendious delivery. For as the

Celtiberians make steel of iron by burying it in the ground, thereby

to refine it from the gross and earthy part, so the Laconic way of

speech has nothing of bark upon it, but by cutting off all superfluity

of words, it becomes steeled and sharpened to pierce the understanding

of the hearers. So their consciousness of language, so ready to

turn the edge to all manner of questions, became natural by their

extraordinary practice of silence. And therefore it would be very

expedient for persons so much given to talk, always to have before

their eyes the short and pithy sayings of those people, were it only

to let them see the force and gravity which they contain. For example:

The Lacedaemonians to Philip; Dionysius in Corinth. And when Philip

wrote thus to the Spartans: If once I enter into your territories, I

will destroy ye all, never to rise again; they answered him with the

single word, If. To King Demetrius exclaiming in a great rage, What!

have the Spartans sent me but one ambassador? the ambassador nothing

terrified replied, Yes; one to one. Certainly they that spoke short and

concisely were much admired by the ancients. Therefore the Amphictyons

gave order, not that the Iliad or the Odyssey or Pindar’s paeans should

be written upon Pythian Apollo’s temple; but Know thyself; Nothing too

much; Give sureties, and mischief is at hand. So much did they admire

conciseness of speech, comprehending full sense in so much brevity,

made solid as it were by the force of a hammer. Does not the Deity

himself study compendious utterance in the delivery of his oracles? Is

he not therefore called Loxias,[79] because he avoids rather loquacity

than obscurity? Are not they that signify their meaning by certain

signs, without words, in great admiration and highly applauded? Thus

Heraclitus, being desired by his fellow-citizens to give them his

opinion concerning Concord, ascended the public pulpit, and taking

a cup of cold water into his hand, first sprinkled it with a little

flour, then stirring it with a sprig of pennyroyal, drank it off,

and so came down again; intimating thereby, that if men would but be

contented with what was next at hand, without longing after dainties

and superfluities, it would be an easy thing for cities to live in

peace and concord one with another.

Scilurus, king of the Scythians, left fourscore sons behind him; who,

when he found the hour of death approaching, ordered them to bring him

a bundle of small javelins, and then commanded every one singly to

try whether he could break the bundle, as it was, tied up altogether;

which when they told him it was impossible for them to do, he drew out

the javelins one by one, and brake them all himself with ease; thereby

declaring that, so long as they kept together united and in concord,

their force would be invincible, but that by disunion and discord

they would enfeeble each other, and render their dominion of small

continuance.

18. He then, that by often repeating and reflection shall enure

himself to such precedents as these, may in time perhaps be more

delighted with these short and conclusive apophthegms than with the

exorbitances of loose and lavish discourse. For my own part, I must

acknowledge that I am not a little ashamed of myself, when I call to

mind that same domestic servant of whom I am now going to speak, and

consider how great a thing it is to advise before a man speaks, and

then to be able to maintain and stick to what he has resolved upon.

Pupius Piso, the rhetorician, being unwilling to be disturbed with

much talk, gave orders to his servants to answer to such questions

only as he should ask them, and say no more. Then having a design to

give an entertainment to Clodius, at that time magistrate, he ordered

him to be invited, and provided a splendid banquet for him, as in all

probability he could do no less. At the time appointed several other

guests appeared, only they waited for Clodius’s coming, who tarried

much longer than was expected; so that Piso sent his servant several

times to him, to know whether he would be pleased to come to supper

or no. Now when it grew late and Piso despaired of his coming, What!

said he to his servant, did you call him? Yes, replied the servant. Why

then does he not come away? Because he told me he would not come. Why

did you not tell me so before? Because, sir, you never asked me the

question. This was a Roman servant. But an Athenian servant, while he

is digging and delving, will give his master an account of the articles

and capitulations in a treaty of peace. So strangely does custom

prevail in all things, of which let us now discourse.

19. For there is no curb or bridle that can tame or restrain a

libertine tongue; only custom must vanquish that disease. First

therefore, when there are many questions propounded in the company

where thou art, accustom thyself to silence till all the rest have

refused to give an answer. For, as Sophocles observes,

Although in racing swiftness is required,

In counselling there’s no such haste desired;

no more do speech and answer aim at the same mark with running. For it

is the business of a racer to get the start of him that contends with

him; but if another man gives a sufficient answer, there needs no more

than to commend and approve what he says, and so gain the reputation

of a candid person. If not, then to tell wherein the other failed and

to supply the defect will neither be unseasonable nor a thing that can

justly merit distaste. But above all things, let us take special heed,

when another is asked a question, that we do not chop in to prevent his

returning an answer. And perhaps it is as little commendable, when a

question is asked of another, to put him by, and undertake the solution

of what is demanded ourselves. For thereby we seem to intimate that

the person to whom the question was put was not able to resolve it,

and that the propounder had not discretion sufficient to know of whom

to ask it. Besides, such a malapert forwardness in answering is not

only indecent, but injurious and affrontive. For he that prevents the

person to whom the question is put in returning his answer, would in

effect insinuate a What need had you to ask of him?—What can he say to

it?—When I am in presence, no man ought to be asked those questions

but myself. And yet many times we put questions to some people, not

for want of an answer, but only to minister occasion of discourse to

provoke them to familiarity, and to have the pleasure of their wit

and conversation, as Socrates was wont to challenge Theaetetus and

Charmides. Therefore to prevent another in returning his answers,

to abstract his ears, and draw off his cogitations from another to

himself, is the same thing as to run and salute a man who designs to be

saluted by somebody else, or to divert his eyes upon ourselves which

were already fixed upon another; considering that if he to whom the

question is put refuse to return an answer, it is but decent for a man

to contain himself, and by an answer accommodate to the will of the

propounder, modestly and respectfully to put in, as if it had been at

the request or in the behalf of the other. For they that are asked a

question, if they fail in their answer, are justly to be pardoned; but

he that voluntarily presumes to answer for another gives distaste, let

his answer be never so rational; but if he mistake, he is derided by

all the company.

20. The second point of exercise, in reference to our own answering of

questions, wherein a man that is given to talk ought to be extremely

careful, is first of all not to be over-hasty in his answers to such as

provoke him to talk on purpose to make themselves merry and to put an

affront upon him. For some there are who, not out of any desire to be

satisfied, but merely to pass away the time, study certain questions,

and then propound them to persons which they know love to multiply

words, on purpose to make themselves sport. Such men therefore ought

to take heed how they run headlong and leap into discourse, as if

they were glad of the occasion, and to consider the behavior of the

propounder and the benefit and usefulness of the question. When we find

that the propounder is really desirous to be informed, it is convenient

then for a man to bethink himself awhile, and make some pause between

the question and the answer; to the end that the proposer, if he

pleases to make any additions to his proposal, may have time to do it,

and himself a convenient space to consider what answer to make, for

fear of running at random and stifling the question before it be fully

propounded, or of giving one answer for another for want of considering

what he ought to say,—which is the effect of an over-hasty zeal to be

talking. True it is, indeed, that the Pythian priestess was wont to

give her oracular answers at the very instant, and sometimes before the

question was propounded. For that the Deity whom she serves

Both understands the mute that cannot speak,

And hears the silent e’er his mind he break.[80]

But it behooves a man that would return a pertinent answer, to stay

till he rightly apprehend the sense and understand the intent of him

that propounds the question, lest he may happen to make good the

proverb,

A rake we called for; they refused a bowl.

Besides, we must subdue this inordinate and insatiate greediness of

having all the talk, that it may not seem as if we had some old flux

of humors impostumated about the tongue, which we were willing to have

lanced and let out by a question. Socrates therefore, though never so

thirsty after violent exercise, never would allow himself the liberty

to drink, till he had drawn one bucket of water and poured it out upon

the ground; to the end he might accustom his sensual appetite to attend

reason’s appointment.

21. Now therefore we come to understand that there are three sorts of

answers to questions, the necessary, the polite, and the superfluous.

For example, if a man should ask whether Socrates is within, the other,

if he were in an ill-humor or not disposed to make many words, would

answer, Not within; or if he intended to be more Laconic, he would

cut off “within,” and reply briefly, No. Thus the Lacedaemonians,

when Philip sent them an epistle, to know whether or not they would

admit him into their city, vouchsafed him no other answer than only

No, fairly written in large letters upon a sheet of paper. Another

that would answer more courteously would say: He is not within; he is

gone among the bankers; and perhaps he would add, Where he expects

some friends. But a superfluous prater, if he chance to have read

Antimachus of Colophon, would reply: He is not within; but is gone

among the bankers, in expectation to meet certain Ionian friends,

who are recommended to him in a letter from Alcibiades, who lives

at Miletus with Tissaphernes, one of the great king of Persia’s

lieutenant-generals, who formerly assisted the Lacedaemonians,

but is now, by the solicitation of Alcibiades, in league with the

Athenians; for Alcibiades, being desirous to return to his own

country, has prevailed with Tissaphernes to change his mind and join

with the Athenians. And thus perhaps you shall have him run on and

repeat the whole eighth book of Thucydides, and overwhelm a man with

his impertinent discourse, till he has taken Miletus, and banished

Alcibiades a second time. Herein therefore ought a man chiefly to

restrain the profuseness of his language, by following the footsteps

of the question, and circumscribing the answer, as it were, within a

circle proportionable to the benefit which the propounder proposes

to make of his question. It is reported of Carneades, that before he

was well known in the world, while he was disputing in the Gymnasium,

the president of the place sent him an admonition to moderate his

voice (for he naturally spoke very deep and loud); in answer to which

he desired the president to send him a gauge for his voice, when the

president not improperly made answer: Let that be the person who

disputes with thee. In like manner, the intent of the propounder ought

to be the rule and measure of the answer.

22. Moreover, as Socrates was wont to say, that those meats were

chiefly to be abstained from which allured men to eat when they were

not a-hungry, and those drinks to be refrained that invited men to

drink when they were not a-dry; so it would behoove a man that is

lavish of his tongue, to be afraid of those discourses and themes

wherein he most delights and makes it his business to be most prolix,

and whenever he perceives them flowing in upon him, to resist them

to the utmost of his power. For example, your martial men are always

talking of sieges and battles, and the great poet often introduces

Nestor boasting of his own achievements and feats of arms. The same

disease is incident to noted pleaders at the bar, and accompanies such

as have unexpectedly risen to be the favorites of great princes. For

such will be always up with their stories,—how they were introduced at

first, how they ascended by degrees, how they got the better in such

a case, what arguments they used in such a case, and lastly how they

were hummed up and applauded in court. For to say truth, gladness and

joy are much more loquacious than the sleeplessness so often feigned

in their comedies, rousing up and still refreshing itself with new

relations; and therefore they are prone to fall into such stories upon

the least occasion given. For not only

Where the body most is pained,

There the patient lays his hand;

but pleasure also has a voice within itself, and leads the tongue about

to be a support to the memory. So lovers spend the greatest part of

their time in songs and sonnets, to refresh their memories with the

representations of their mistresses; concerning which amours of theirs,

when companions are wanting, they frequently discourse with things that

are void of life. Thus,

O dearest bed, whereon we wont to rest;

and again,

O blessed lamp divine,—for surely thee

Bacchis believes some mighty Deity,—

Surely the greatest of the Gods thou art,

If she so wills who does possess my heart.

And indeed it may well be said, that a loose-tongued fellow is no more,

in respect of his discourse, than a white line struck with chalk upon

white marble. For in regard there are several subjects of discourse,

and many men are more subject to some than to others, it behooves every

one to be on his guard especially against these, and to suppress them

in such a manner that the delight which they take therein may not decoy

them into their beloved prolixity and profuseness of words. The same

inclination to overshoot themselves in prattling appears in such as are

prone to that kind of discourses wherein they suppose themselves to

excel others, either in habit or experience. For such a one, being as

well a lover of himself as ambitious of glory,

The chiefest part of all the day doth spend,

Himself to pass and others to transcend.[81]

For example, he that reads much endeavors to excel in history; the

grammarian, in the artificial couching of words; the traveller is full

of his geography. But all these surplusages are to be avoided with

great caution, lest men, intoxicated therewith, grow fond of their old

infirmities, and return to their former freaks, like beasts that cannot

be driven from their haunts. Cyrus therefore, yet a young stripling,

was most worthy of admiration, who would never challenge his equals

and playfellows to any exercise wherein he excelled, but to such only

wherein he knew himself to be inferior; unwilling that they should fret

for the loss of the prize which he was sure to win, and loath to lose

what he could himself gain from the others’ better skill.

On the other side, the profuse talker is of such a disposition that,

if any discourse happen from which he might be able to learn something

and inform his ignorance, that he refuses and rejects, nor can you hire

him even to hold his tongue; but after his rolling and restless fancy

has mustered up some few obsolete and all-to-be-tattered rhapsodies

to supply his vanity, out he flings them, as if he were master of all

the knowledge in the world. Just like one amongst us who, having read

two or three of Ephorus’s books, tired all men’s ears, and spoiled

and brake up all the feasts and societies wherever he came, with his

continual relations of the battle of Leuctra and the consequences of

it; by which means he got himself a nickname, and every one called him

Epaminondas.

23. But this is one of the least inconveniences of this infirmity;

and indeed we ought to make it one step towards the cure, to turn

this violent vein of twattling upon such subjects as those. For such

a loquacity is less a nuisance when it superabounds in what belongs

to humane literature. It would be well also that the sort of people

who are addicted to this vice should accustom themselves to write upon

some subject or other, and to dispute of certain questions apart. For

Antipater the Stoic, as we may probably conjecture, either not being

able or else unwilling to come into dispute with Carneades, vehemently

inveighing against the Stoics, declined to meet him fairly in the

schools, yet would be always writing answers against him; and because

he filled whole volumes full of contradictory arguments, and still

opposed him with assertions that only made a noise, he was called

Calamoboas, as one that made a great clamor with his pen to no purpose.

So it is very probable that such fighting with their own shadows,

and exclaiming one against another apart by themselves, driving and

restraining them from the multitude, would render them gradually more

tolerable and sociable in civil company; as curs, after they have

once discharged their fury upon sticks and stones, become less fierce

towards men. It would be always of great importance to them to converse

with their superiors and elders; for that the awful reverence and

respect which they bear to their dignity and gravity may accustom them

in time to silence.

And it would be evermore expedient to intermix and involve with these

exercises this manner of ratiocination with ourselves, before we speak,

and at the very moment that the words are ready to break out of our

mouths: What is this which I would say, that presses so hard to be

gone? For what reason would this tongue of mine so fain be talking?

What good shall I get by speaking? What mischief shall I incur by

holding my peace? For we are not to ease and discharge ourselves of

our words, as if they were a heavy burthen that overloaded us; for

speech remains as well when uttered as before; but men either speak

in behalf of themselves when some necessity compels them, or for the

benefit of those that hear them, or else to recreate one another with

the delights of converse, on purpose to mitigate and render more

savory, as with salt, the toils of our daily employments. But if there

be nothing profitable in speaking, nothing necessary to them that hear

what is said, nothing of satisfaction or delight, what need is there it

should be spoken? For words may be in vain and to no purpose, as well

as deeds. But after and above all that has been said, we ought always

to bear in remembrance, and always to have at our tongue’s end, that

saying of Simonides, that he had often repented him of talking, but

never of keeping silent. Then as for exercise, we must believe it to be

a matter of great importance, as being that which overcomes and masters

all things; considering what watchful care and even toil and labor men

will undergo to get rid of an old cough or hiccough. But silence and

taciturnity not only never cause a dry throat, as Hippocrates observes,

but are altogether free from pain and sorrow.

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