The Senior Common Room at St Anselm's: XIX. The Silence

The Senior Common Room was unusually quiet.

Mr Blottisham noticed this immediately.

"Something has happened."

Professor Quillibrace looked up from his book.

"Has it?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Quillibrace waited.

Blottisham looked around the room.

"Exactly."

"That seems a rather complicated way of reporting silence."

"It is not ordinary silence."

"How so?"

"It feels as though something is missing."

Miss Elowen Stray glanced towards the empty fireplace.

"Does it?"

"Certainly."

"No one is speaking."

"Precisely."

"No one is playing music."

"Exactly."

"No one is doing anything."

Quillibrace closed his book.

"An interesting conclusion."

"What?"

"You have defined activity entirely by what makes a noise."

Blottisham considered this.

"Have I?"

"Apparently."

"That seems reasonable."

"Does it?"

"Well, if nothing is happening, there is silence."

Miss Stray smiled.

"Let us test that."

She looked around the room.

"Imagine a concert hall."

"Very well."

"The orchestra is seated."

"Yes."

"The audience is waiting."

"Yes."

"The conductor raises the baton."

"And then?"

"Nothing."

Blottisham looked puzzled.

"The performance has failed."

"Has it?"

"Nobody has played."

"And yet would you describe that silence as empty?"

Blottisham paused.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because everyone is waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"The music."

Quillibrace nodded.

"So the silence already contains something."

"The expectation."

"Exactly."

Miss Stray looked thoughtful.

"The music has not begun."

"And yet," said Quillibrace, "in an important sense, it has."

Blottisham frowned.

"I am uncomfortable with that sentence."

"You may find it becomes less uncomfortable with practice."

"That is rarely my experience."

Quillibrace ignored this.

"Perhaps silence is not the removal of sound."

"What is it, then?"

"The preparation of meaning."

Blottisham looked unconvinced.

"That sounds suspiciously philosophical."

"It is suspiciously philosophical."

"How can we test it?"

"Consider reading."

"Reading?"

"Imagine a novel in which every sentence appeared simultaneously."

Blottisham grimaced.

"That would be inconvenient."

"Every chapter."

"Unpleasant."

"Every page."

"Impossible."

"And yet every word would still be present."

"But understanding would not be."

"Exactly."

Miss Stray added,

"Meaning requires space."

Blottisham nodded slowly.

"Between words?"

"Between thoughts."

"Between experiences."

Quillibrace picked up his book again.

"Silence provides that space."

Blottisham looked around the room.

"So silence is useful."

"Much more than useful."

"In what sense?"

"Necessary."

"Even in conversation?"

"Especially in conversation."

Blottisham laughed.

"Surely conversation requires talking."

"It requires more than talking."

"Such as?"

"Listening."

"Ah."

"And questions."

"And?"

"Thinking."

Blottisham smiled.

"All activities that become difficult if nobody stops speaking."

"Indeed."

"I have met people who seem determined to prove this experimentally."

Quillibrace looked at him.

"Frequently."

Miss Stray poured more tea.

"The silence between two people can reveal a great deal."

"Awkward silence?"

"Sometimes."

"That is usually considered a problem."

"Some silences are."

"Some are not."

"No."

"What is the difference?"

She thought for a moment.

"Whether the silence belongs to the people or separates them."

Blottisham looked interested.

"Explain."

"With strangers, silence can feel like a wall."

"And with friends?"

"It can feel like a room."

Quillibrace nodded.

"Among old friends, silence often means there is no need to perform."

"Perform?"

"To constantly prove one's presence."

Blottisham became thoughtful.

"So friendship eventually includes silence."

"Yes."

"Not because there is nothing left to say."

"But because everything does not need to be said."

A quiet moment passed.

Blottisham smiled.

"I understand why children like silence before stories."

"Do you?"

"Yes. The classroom becomes quiet because everyone has already begun imagining."

"Exactly."

"The story begins before the first word."

"An excellent observation."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

Blottisham looked pleased.

"I occasionally produce one."

"Occasionally."

He continued as though he had not heard.

"And writers use silence too."

"The spaces between paragraphs."

"The full stop."

"The pause before the next chapter."

"Yes."

"Language is not just words."

"No."

"It is arranged silence."

Miss Stray nodded.

"Music has always understood this."

"The rests."

"Exactly."

Blottisham looked surprised.

"A rest is part of music?"

"Remove every rest from a symphony."

"What happens?"

"There is only sound."

"Wouldn't that be more music?"

"No."

"Less?"

"Considerably."

Blottisham looked thoughtful.

"So civilisation needs rests too."

"Indeed."

"Gardens."

"Libraries."

"Places of worship."

"Quiet walks."

"Evenings without appointments."

Quillibrace nodded.

"Moments with very little economic value."

"Which sounds like a criticism."

"It is merely an observation."

"Yet they seem valuable."

"Very."

Miss Stray looked towards the window.

"Human beings require spaces where nothing is demanding their attention."

Blottisham nodded.

"Although silence can also be unpleasant."

"Yes."

"The silence after an argument."

"The silence of exclusion."

"The silence when someone refuses to answer."

"Exactly."

Quillibrace closed his book again.

"Like every invisible machine, silence depends upon how it is used."

"The same thing can create or diminish meaning."

"Yes."

"The table can gather or exclude."

"The bridge can connect or divide."

"The letter can heal or wound."

"And silence?"

Miss Stray looked around the quiet room.

"Silence can either make room for another person or leave them alone."

No one spoke for a while.

This time, however, nobody felt the need to fill the gap.

Eventually Blottisham said,

"I began by thinking silence meant nothing was happening."

"And now?"

"I think something may be happening precisely because nothing is."

Quillibrace smiled.

"A difficult idea."

"But a useful one."

"Most worthwhile ideas are."

Blottisham looked towards the empty fireplace.

"Perhaps we should have more silence."

"Perhaps."

"Although not too much."

"Why not?"

"Because then we might start wondering whether the conversation has ended."

Miss Stray smiled.

"Perhaps that is the final purpose of silence."

"What?"

"To show us whether there is still something worth saying."

The three remained quiet a little longer.

Not because they had nothing to add.

Because, for the moment, nothing needed adding.