He says, this silence of More's, it was never really silence, was it? It was loud with his treason; it was quibbling as far as quibbles would serve him, it was demurs and cavils, suave ambiguities. It was fear of plain words, or the assertion that plain words pervert themselves; More's dictionary, against our dictionary. You can have a silence full of words. A lute retains, in its bowl, the notes it has played. The viol, in its strings, holds a concord. A shriveled petal can hold its scent, a prayer can rattle with curses; an empty house, when the owners have gone out, can still be loud with ghosts.
In Hilary Mantel's "Wolf Hall," the concept of silence is explored as more than just the absence of sound. The protagonist suggests that More's silence is filled with unspoken treachery, ambiguity, and fear. This silence is not the absence of communication but rather a complex, loaded expression of inner conflict and hidden meanings. It reveals a disconnect between More's understanding of language and the reality faced by others, suggesting that silence can communicate as powerfully as words.
The metaphorical depth of silence is illustrated through musical and natural imagery, such as the lute holding notes or a dried petal preserving its fragrance. These examples highlight how silence, while seemingly empty, can contain rich emotional and historical layers. Just as an abandoned house may resonate with the memories of its former inhabitants, More's silent demeanor speaks volumes about his true thoughts and intentions, making the silence itself a significant part of the narrative.
