Sometimes a dexterous use of words appears to us to be only a kind of
parlor trick. And sometimes it _is_ just that. The command of a wide
vocabulary is in truth an accomplishment, and like any other
accomplishment it may be used for show. But not necessarily. Just as a man
may have money without "flashing" it, or an extensive wardrobe without
sporting gaudy neckties or wearing a dress suit in the morning, so may he
possess linguistic resources without making a caddish exhibition of them.
Indeed the more distant he stands from verbal bankruptcy, the less likely
he is to indulge in needless display.
Again, glibness of speech sometimes awakens our distrust. We like actions
rather than words; we prefer that character, personality, and kindly
feelings should be their own mouthpiece. So be it. But there are thoughts
and emotions properly to be shared with other people, yet incapable of
being revealed except through language. It is only when language is
insincere--when it expresses lofty sentiments or generous sympathies, yet
springs from designing selfishness--that it justly arouses misgivings.
Power over words, like power of any other sort, is for use, not abuse.
That it sometimes is abused must not mislead us into thinking that it
should in itself be scorned or neglected.
Our contempt and distrust do not mean that our fundamental ideas about
language are unsound. Beneath our wholesome dislike for shallow facility
and insincerity of speech, we have a conviction that the mastery of words
is a good thing, not a bad. We are therefore unwilling to take the vow of
linguistic poverty. If we lack the ability to bend words to our use, it is
from laziness, not from scruple. We desire to speak competently, but
without affectation. We know that if our diction rises to this dual
standard, it silently distinguishes us from the sluggard, the weakling,
and the upstart. For such diction is not to be had on sudden notice, like
a tailor-made suit. Nor can it, like such a suit, deceive anybody as to
our true status. A man's utterance reveals what he is. It is the measure
of his inward attainment. The assertion has been made that for a man to
express himself freely and well in his native language is the surest proof
of his culture. Meditate the saying. Can you think of a proof that is
surer?
But a man's speech does more than lend him distinction. It does more than
reveal to others what manner of man he is. It is an instrument as well as
an index. It is an agent--oftentimes indeed it is _the_ agent--of his
influence upon others. How silly are those persons who oppose words to
things, as if words were not things at all but air-born unrealities! Words
are among the most powerful realities in the world. You vote the
Republican ticket. Why? Because you have studied the issues of the
campaign and reached a well-reasoned conclusion how the general interests
may be served? Possibly. But nine times in ten it will be because of that
_word_ Republican. You may believe that in a given instance the
Republican cause or candidate is inferior; you may have nothing personally
to lose through Republican defeat; yet you squirm and twist and seek
excuses for casting a Republican ballot. Such is the power--aye, sometimes
the tyranny--of a word. The word _Republican_ has not been selected
invidiously. _Democrat_ would have served as well. Or take religious
words--_Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian, Episcopalian, Baptist,
Lutheran,_ or what not. A man who belongs, in person or by proxy, to
one of the sects designated may be more indifferent to the institution
itself than to the word that represents it. Thus you may attack in his
presence the tenets of Presbyterianism, for example, but you must be wary
about calling the Presbyterian name. _Mother, the flag_--what sooner
than an insult coupled with these terms will rouse a man to fight? But
does that man kiss his mother, or salute the flag, or pay much heed to
either? Probably not. Words not realities? With what realities must we
more carefully reckon? Words are as dangerous as dynamite, as beneficent
as brotherhood. An unfortunate word may mean a plea rejected, an
enterprise baffled, half the world plunged into war. A fortunate word may
open a triple-barred door, avert a disaster, bring thousands of people
from jealousy and hatred into coöperation and goodwill.
Nor is it solely on their emotional side that men may be affected by
words. Their thinking and their esthetic nature also--their hard sense and
their personal likes and dislikes--are subject to the same influence. You
interview a potential investor; does he accept your proposition or not? A
prospective customer walks into your store; does he buy the goods you show
him? You enter the drawing room of one of the elite; are you invited again
and again? Your words will largely decide--your words, or your verbal
abstinence. For be it remembered that words no more than dollars are to be
scattered broadcast for the sole reason that you have them. The right word
should be used at the right time--and at that time only. Silence is
oftentimes golden. Nevertheless there are occasions for us to speak.
Frequent occasions. To be inarticulate _then_ may mean only
embarrassment. It may--some day it will--mean suffering and failure. That
we may make the most of the important occasions sure to come, we must have
our instruments ready. Those instruments are words. He who commands words
commands events--commands men.