A WORDY AGE.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 5006, 10 April 1877, Page 3

A WORDY AGE.

(From the Liverpool Critic.) Despite Carlyle’s frequent denunciations, we live in an age of words, No subject is sacred to silence. Almost every man and woman who can handle a pen, or speak audibly, seeks an audience through the Press or on the platform. Perhaps never since the last stone of Babel’s half-built tower was laid, was there such a clatter of tongues. Everybody wants to teach everybody else ; all the talkers and writers are wise ; all the dumb, who are only readers and listeners, are the foolish. And yet the world is fond of this vocal activity, and the man who cannot speak when called upon, is looked upon as a blockhead. Newspapers multiply, audiences are more numerous and indulgent than of yore, the ’Change is more noisy. Not that news :is increased, but that surely man’s interest in his neighbor’s version thereof has. A man who has a ready tongue is welcome almost anywhere—always providing he allows occasional pauses for other ready tongues. It is the man who rolls off easily pleasant phrases, who is the favorite in courts of law, at Westminster, on missionary platforms, in pulpits beneath which the rich sit to confess themselves naked and miserable sinners, in the cottages of the poor- who like to listen while somebody speaks with a different accent to their own, if the element of patronage is not too obvious. The most ignorant relish “a good speech ;’’ the haughtiest as well as the emptiest belle of the ballroom despises a dumb partner. What type of publican attracts most custom ? He who cultivates the acquaintance of men who can talk and make the merry jest, regardless of the character of speech or jest, so long as bar or parlor contains the talkers who interest customers, make them forget time, and so keep the waiter busy. And yet speech is a rare and goodly gift. There are many pretenders to it, as there are to everything else that is valued in the world. But the man who keeps an audience hanging on every word which falls from his lips possesses that rare magnetic power which for a time at least binds human souls together. And if this speech and strange influence have connected with them great purposes, stern principles, unquenchable aspirations, then the

i utterance is borne on wings of the higher spirit of genius. For all these are the subtle components of that.grandest form of humanity. The Prophet of Silence, Carlyle, what mission had he in the world that could have been delivered without speech ? Goethe, Carlyle’s master, was a most copious writer, and not exactly silent in company. Another of the heroes of the Chelsea seer, Cx - omwell, was as effective with his short, decisive speeches as with his Ironsides. Nay, what is any one without speech, oral or written ? It is the outward and visible sign "of inward and spiritual grace, or of the want of it. A man may be very wise or very foolish, but who can know it if he has not the power of expression ? What would Shakspere have been without words to clothe his magnificent and varied conceptions. We cannot all go prating the deaf and dumb alphabet, and shaking our fists at each other. Even Carlyle has to use silvern speech in order to declare that silence is golden. ; Some men do not know - what is in them until conversation stimulates latent depths of thought. Ranking highest among the greatest efforts of eloquence, ancient and modern, are the extemporaneous. It is oftener speech than example which arouses the resolution to go and do likewise, for the best deeds are those seen the least, and which make no noise. An, action done to be seen and heard of men, is not noble ; it is a theatrical display. Great is the company of the preachers, therefore, in everything that can interest or bore humanity. There is not a little section in trade, politics, religion, social science, or social policy, which has not a printed organ and vocal spokesman of its own. It is of no use grumbling about the number of the company of the preachers. Those who are tinkling brass and sounding cymbals merely—agreeably as these may sound now and then—will soon be left to make a ■ noise for the pleasure of their own ears only, and we may well be sure that these instruments will not long continue to break the silence. But men who have a parable to take up, a message to deliver, a “Thus saith the Lord,” with which to startle the conscience of the world, will be heard. Aye, though the rest of mankind holds its hands on their mouths, the smothered accents will make themselves audible. But such men are scarce. Wo ild they were more plentiful. People will have pulpits in their churches and chapels, and every Sunday, at least, insist upon being lectured for sins they have not the slightest intention either of repenting of or giving up. And so, mediocre “persons,” with their parrot discourses, their nineteenthly, and other protracted divisions, have to find occupation for themselves, and to take up other people’s time in drawling out moral platitudes. But between the scarce great ones, whose single sentence fires with electric flash whole multitudes, and the talkers to whom speaking is as laborious as. the schoolboy’s first lessons, is another class. There are men like Charles Kingsley, and hundreds—thank Heaven !—who have not his . gift of strong Saxon, but. are content to stand and, without parade of oratory, speak simple words, to comfort and bless simple folk — words that he who hath ears to hear will not fail to understand. It is not the speaker who describes the largest circles with his arms, who has the choicest voeabulary of adjectives at his command, who rolls out his sentences in the deepest voice or the longest periods, that produces the greatest effect. It is the simple t words of simple men that linger in the heart, and are as bread found after many days. Much as men talk nowadays, they must not ' be condemned therefore. It is a reading age, a thoughtful age, a progressive age—one in 1 which the masses have found their tongues, and discovery of all kinds has been proportionately abundant. Nor is it, on the whole, a vain-glorious age. There is humility in our abandonment of many old beliefs, as well as earnestness in our seeking for new ones. We speak because we have thought. May the good genius which hitherto has presided over Great Britain’s fortunes so guide the torrent of speech that we may find “in a multitude of councillors there is wisdoin.”