JAMES i. 26.
_If any man among you seem to be religious_, _and bridleth not his
tongue_, _but deceiveth his own heart_, _this man's religion is vain_.
The translation of this text would be more determinate by being more
literal, thus: _If any man among you seemeth to be religious_, _not
bridling his tongue_, _but deceiving his own heart_, _this man's religion
is vain_. This determines that the words, _but deceiveth his own heart_,
are not put in opposition to _seemeth to be religious_, but to _bridleth
not his tongue_. The certain determinate meaning of the text then being,
that he who seemeth to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but in
that particular deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain, we
may observe somewhat very forcible and expressive in these words of St.
James. As if the apostle had said, No man surely can make any pretences
to religion, who does not at least believe that he bridleth his tongue:
if he puts on any appearance or face of religion, and yet does not govern
his tongue, he must surely deceive himself in that particular, and think
he does; and whoever is so unhappy as to deceive himself in this, to
imagine he keeps that unruly faculty in due subjection when indeed he
does not, whatever the other part of his life be, his religion is vain;
the government of the tongue being a most material restraint which virtue
lays us under: without it no man can be truly religious.
In treating upon this subject, I will consider,
First, what is the general vice or fault here referred to; or what
disposition in men is supposed in moral reflections and precepts
concerning _bridling the tongue_.
Secondly, when it may be said of any one, that he has a due government
over himself in this respect.
I. Now, the fault referred to, and the disposition supposed, in precepts
and reflections concerning the government of the tongue, is not
evil-speaking from malice, nor lying or bearing false witness from
indirect selfish designs. The disposition to these, and the actual vices
themselves, all come under other subjects. The tongue may be employed
about, and made to serve all the purposes of vice, in tempting and
deceiving, in perjury and injustice. But the thing here supposed and
referred to, is talkativeness: a disposition to be talking, abstracted
from the consideration of what is to be said; with very little or no
regard to, or thought of doing, either good or harm. And let not any
imagine this to be a slight matter, and that it deserves not to have so
great weight laid upon it, till he has considered what evil is implied in
it, and the bad effects which follow from it. It is perhaps true, that
they who are addicted to this folly would choose to confine themselves to
trifles and indifferent subjects, and so intend only to be guilty of
being impertinent: but as they cannot go on for ever talking of nothing,
as common matters will not afford a sufficient fund for perpetual
continued discourse, where subjects of this kind are exhausted they will
go on to defamation, scandal, divulging of secrets, their own secrets as
well as those of others--anything rather than be silent. They are
plainly hurried on in the heat of their talk to say quite different
things from what they first intended, and which they afterwards wish
unsaid: or improper things, which they had no other end in saying, but
only to afford employment to their tongue. And if these people expect to
be heard and regarded--for there are some content merely with
talking--they will invent to engage your attention: and, when they have
heard the least imperfect hint of an affair, they will out of their own
head add the circumstances of time and place and other matters to make
out their story and give the appearance of probability to it: not that
they have any concern about being believed, otherwise than as a means of
being heard. The thing is, to engage your attention; to take you up
wholly for the present time: what reflections will be made afterwards, is
in truth the least of their thoughts. And further, when persons who
indulge themselves in these liberties of the tongue are in any degree
offended with another--as little disgusts and misunderstandings will
be--they allow themselves to defame and revile such a one without any
moderation or bounds; though the offence is so very slight, that they
themselves would not do, nor perhaps wish him, an injury in any other
way. And in this case the scandal and revilings are chiefly owing to
talkativeness, and not bridling their tongue, and so come under our
present subject. The least occasion in the world will make the humour
break out in this particular way or in another. It as like a torrent,
which must and will flow; but the least thing imaginable will first of
all give it either this or another direction, turn it into this or that
channel: or like a fire--the nature of which, when in a heap of
combustible matter, is to spread and lay waste all around; but any one of
a thousand little accidents will occasion it to break out first either in
this or another particular part.
The subject then before us, though it does run up into, and can scarce be
treated as entirely distinct from all others, yet it needs not be so much
mixed or blended with them as it often is. Every faculty and power may
be used as the instrument of premeditated vice and wickedness, merely as
the most proper and effectual means of executing such designs. But if a
man, from deep malice and desire of revenge, should meditate a falsehood
with a settled design to ruin his neighbour's reputation, and should with
great coolness and deliberation spread it, nobody would choose to say of
such a one that he had no government of his tongue. A man may use the
faculty of speech as an instrument of false witness, who yet has so
entire a command over that faculty as never to speak but from forethought
and cool design. Here the crime is injustice and perjury, and, strictly
speaking, no more belongs to the present subject than perjury and
injustice in any other way. But there is such a thing as a disposition
to be talking for its own sake; from which persons often say anything,
good or bad, of others, merely as a subject of discourse, according to
the particular temper they themselves happen to be in, and to pass away
the present time. There is likewise to be observed in persons such a
strong and eager desire of engaging attention to what they say, that they
will speak good or evil, truth or otherwise, merely as one or the other
seems to be most hearkened to: and this though it is sometimes joined, is
not the same with the desire of being thought important and men of
consequence. There is in some such a disposition to be talking, that an
offence of the slightest kind, and such as would not raise any other
resentment, yet raises, if I may so speak, the resentment of the
tongue--puts it into a flame, into the most ungovernable motions. This
outrage, when the person it respects is present, we distinguish in the
lower rank of people by a peculiar term: and let it be observed, that
though the decencies of behaviour are a little kept, the same outrage and
virulence, indulged when he is absent, is an offence of the same kind.
But, not to distinguish any further in this manner, men race into faults
and follies which cannot so properly be referred to any one general head
as this--that they have not a due government over their tongue.
And this unrestrained volubility and wantonness of speech is the occasion
of numberless evils and vexations in life. It begets resentment in him
who is the subject of it, sows the seed of strife and dissension amongst
others, and inflames little disgusts and offences which if let alone
would wear away of themselves: it is often of as bad effect upon the good
name of others, as deep envy or malice: and to say the least of it in
this respect, it destroys and perverts a certain equity of the utmost
importance to society to be observed--namely, that praise and dispraise,
a good or bad character, should always be bestowed according to desert.
The tongue used in such a licentious manner is like a sword in the hand
of a madman; it is employed at random, it can scarce possibly do any
good, and for the most part does a world of mischief; and implies not
only great folly and a trifling spirit, but great viciousness of mind,
great indifference to truth and falsity, and to the reputation, welfare,
and good of others. So much reason is there for what St. James says of
the tongue, _It is a fire_, _a world of iniquity_, _it defileth the whole
body_, _setteth on fire the course of nature_, _and is itself set on fire
of hell_. {8} This is the faculty or disposition which we are required
to keep a guard upon: these are the vices and follies it runs into when
not kept under due restraint.
II. Wherein the due government of the tongue consists, or when it may be
said of any one in a moral and religious sense that he _bridleth his
tongue_, I come now to consider.
The due and proper use of any natural faculty or power is to be judged of
by the end and design for which it was given us. The chief purpose for
which the faculty of speech was given to man is plainly that we might
communicate our thoughts to each other, in order to carry on the affairs
of the world; for business, and for our improvement in knowledge and
learning. But the good Author of our nature designed us not only
necessaries, but likewise enjoyment and satisfaction, in that being He
hath graciously given, and in that condition of life He hath placed us
in. There are secondary uses of our faculties: they administer to
delight, as well as to necessity; and as they are equally-adapted to
both, there is no doubt but He intended them for our gratification as
well as for the support and continuance of our being. The secondary use
of speech is to please and be entertaining to each other in conversation.
This is in every respect allowable and right; it unites men closer in
alliances and friendships; gives us a fellow-feeling of the prosperity
and unhappiness of each other; and is in several respects servicable to
virtue, and to promote good behaviour in the world. And provided there
be not too much time spent in it, if it were considered only in the way
of gratification and delight, men must have strange notion of God and of
religion to think that He can be offended with it, or that it is any way
inconsistent with the strictest virtue. But the truth is, such sort of
conversation, though it has no particular good tendency, yet it has a
general good one; it is social and friendly, and tends to promote
humanity, good-nature, and civility.
As the end and use, so likewise the abuse of speech, relates to the one
or other of these: either to business or to conversation. As to the
former: deceit in the management of business and affairs does not
properly belong to the subject now before us: though one may just mention
that multitude, that heedless number of words with which business is
perplexed, where a much fewer would, as it should seem, better serve the
purpose; but this must be left to those who understand the matter. The
government of the tongue, considered as a subject of itself, relates
chiefly to conversation; to that kind of discourse which usually fills up
the time spent in friendly meetings and visits of civility. And the
danger is, lest persons entertain themselves and others at the expense of
their wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury or offence of their
neighbour. If they will observe and keep clear of these, they may be as
free and easy and unreserved as they can desire.
The cautions to be given for avoiding these dangers, and to render
conversation innocent and agreeable, fall under the following
particulars: silence; talking of indifferent things; and, which makes up
too great a part of conversation, giving of characters, speaking well or
evil of others.
The Wise Man observes that "there is a time to speak, and a time to keep
silence." One meets with people in the world who seem never to have made
the last of these observations. And yet these great talkers do not at
all speak from their having anything to say, as every sentence shows, but
only from their inclination to be talking. Their conversation is merely
an exercise of the tongue: no other human faculty has any share in it. It
is strange these persons can help reflecting, that unless they have in
truth a superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary manner furnished
for conversation if they are entertaining, it is at their own expense. Is
it possible that it should never come into people's thoughts to suspect
whether or no it be to their advantage to show so very much of
themselves? "O that you would altogether hold your peace, and it should
be your wisdom." {9} Remember likewise there are persons who love fewer
words, an inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve some regard, though
of too still and composed tempers for you. Of this number was the Son of
Sirach: for he plainly speaks from experience when he says, "As hills of
sand are to the steps of the aged, so is one of many words to a quiet
man." But one would think it should be obvious to every one, that when
they are in company with their superiors of any kind--in years,
knowledge, and experience--when proper and useful subjects are discoursed
of, which they cannot bear a part in, that these are times for silence,
when they should learn to hear, and be attentive, at least in their turn.
It is indeed a very unhappy way these people are in; they in a manner cut
themselves out from all advantage of conversation, except that of being
entertained with their own talk: their business in coming into company
not being at all to be informed, to hear, to learn, but to display
themselves, or rather to exert their faculty, and talk without any design
at all. And if we consider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat
to unbend the mind, as a diversion from the cares, the business, and the
sorrows of life, it is of the very nature of it that the discourse be
mutual. This, I say, is implied in the very notion of what we
distinguish by conversation, or being in company. Attention to the
continued discourse of one alone grows more painful, often, than the
cares and business we come to be diverted from. He, therefore, who
imposes this upon us is guilty of a double offence--arbitrarily enjoining
silence upon all the rest, and likewise obliging them to this painful
attention.
I am sensible these things are apt to be passed over, as too little to
come into a serious discourse; but in reality men are obliged, even in
point of morality and virtue, to observe all the decencies of behaviour.
The greatest evils in life have had their rise from somewhat which was
thought of too little importance to be attended to. And as to the matter
we are now upon, it is absolutely necessary to be considered. For if
people will not maintain a due government over themselves, in regarding
proper times and seasons for silence, but _will_ be talking, they
certainly, whether they design it or not at first, will go on to scandal
and evil-speaking, and divulging secrets.
If it were needful to say anything further to persuade men to learn this
lesson of silence, one might put them in mind how insignificant they
render themselves by this excessive talkativeness: insomuch that, if they
do chance to say anything which deserves to be attended to and regarded,
it is lost in the variety and abundance which they utter of another sort.
The occasions of silence then are obvious, and one would think should be
easily distinguished by everybody: namely, when a man has nothing to say;
or nothing but what is better unsaid: better, either in regard to the
particular persons he is present with; or from its being an interruption
to conversation itself; or to conversation of a more agreeable kind; or
better, lastly, with regard to himself. I will end this particular with
two reflections of the Wise Man; one of which, in the strongest manner,
exposes the ridiculous part of this licentiousness of the tongue; and the
other, the great danger and viciousness of it. _When he that is a fool
walketh by the way side_, _his wisdom faileth him_, _and he saith to
every one that he is a fool_. {10} The other is, _In the multitude of
words there wanteth not sin_. {11}
As to the government of the tongue in respect to talking upon indifferent
subjects: after what has been said concerning the due government of it in
respect to the occasions and times for silence, there is little more
necessary than only to caution men to be fully satisfied that the
subjects are indeed of an indifferent nature; and not to spend too much
time in conversation of this kind. But persons must be sure to take heed
that the subject of their discourse be at least of an indifferent nature:
that it be no way offensive to virtue, religion, or good manners: that it
be not of a licentious, dissolute sort, this leaving always ill
impressions upon the mind; that it be no way injurious or vexatious to
others; and that too much time be not spent this way, to the neglect of
those duties and offices of life which belong to their station and
condition in the world. However, though there is not any necessity that
men should aim at being important and weighty in every sentence they
speak: yet since useful subjects, at least of some kinds, are as
entertaining as others, a wise man, even when he desires to unbend his
mind from business, would choose that the conversation might turn upon
somewhat instructive.
The last thing is, the government of the tongue as relating to discourse
of the affairs of others, and giving of characters. These are in a
manner the same; and one can scarce call it an indifferent subject,
because discourse upon it almost perpetually runs into somewhat criminal.
And, first of all, it were very much to be wished that this did not take
up so great a part of conversation; because it is indeed a subject of a
dangerous nature. Let any one consider the various interests,
competitions, and little misunderstandings which arise amongst men; and
he will soon see that he is not unprejudiced and impartial; that he is
not, as I may speak, neutral enough to trust himself with talking of the
character and concerns of his neighbour, in a free, careless, and
unreserved manner. There is perpetually, and often it is not attended
to, a rivalship amongst people of one kind or another in respect to wit,
beauty, learning, fortune, and that one thing will insensibly influence
them to speak to the disadvantage of others, even where there is no
formed malice or ill-design. Since therefore it is so hard to enter into
this subject without offending, the first thing to be observed is that
people should learn to decline it; to get over that strong inclination
most have to be talking of the concerns and behaviour of their neighbour.
But since it is impossible that this subject should be wholly excluded
conversation; and since it is necessary that the characters of men should
be known: the next thing is that it is a matter of importance what is
said; and, therefore, that we should be religiously scrupulous and exact
to say nothing, either good or bad, but what is true. I put it thus,
because it is in reality of as great importance to the good of society,
that the characters of bad men should be known, as that the characters of
good men should. People who are given to scandal and detraction may
indeed make an ill-use of this observation; but truths, which are of
service towards regulating our conduct, are not to be disowned, or even
concealed, because a bad use may be made of them. This however would be
effectually prevented if these two things were attended to. First, That,
though it is equally of bad consequence to society that men should have
either good or ill characters which they do not deserve; yet, when you
say somewhat good of a man which he does not deserve, there is no wrong
done him in particular; whereas, when you say evil of a man which he does
not deserve, here is a direct formal injury, a real piece of injustice
done him. This therefore makes a wide difference; and gives us, in point
of virtue, much greater latitude in speaking well than ill of others.
Secondly, A good man is friendly to his fellow-creatures, and a lover of
mankind; and so will, upon every occasion, and often without any, say all
the good he can of everybody; but, so far as he is a good man, will never
be disposed to speak evil of any, unless there be some other reason for
it, besides, barely that it is true. If he be charged with having given
an ill character, he will scarce think it a sufficient justification of
himself to say it was a true one, unless he can also give some further
account how he came to do so: a just indignation against particular
instances of villainy, where they are great and scandalous; or to prevent
an innocent man from being deceived and betrayed, when he has great trust
and confidence in one who does not deserve it. Justice must be done to
every part of a subject when we are considering it. If there be a man,
who bears a fair character in the world, whom yet we know to be without
faith or honesty, to be really an ill man; it must be allowed in general
that we shall do a piece of service to society by letting such a one's
true character be known. This is no more than what we have an instance
of in our Saviour himself; {12} though He was mild and gentle beyond
example. However, no words can express too strongly the caution which
should be used in such a case as this.
Upon the whole matter: If people would observe the obvious occasions of
silence, if they would subdue the inclination to tale-bearing, and that
eager desire to engage attention, which is an original disease in some
minds, they would be in little danger of offending with their tongue; and
would, in a moral and religious sense, have due government over it.
I will conclude with some precepts and reflections of the Son of Sirach
upon this subject. _Be swift to hear_; _and_, _if thou hast
understanding_, _answer thy neighbour_; _if not_, _lay thy hand upon thy
mouth_. _Honour and shame is in talk_. _A man of an ill tongue is
dangerous in his city_, _and he that is rash in his talk shall be hated_.
_A wise man wilt hold his tongue till he see opportunity_; _but a babbler
and a fool will regard no time_. _He that useth many words shall be
abhorred_; _and he that taketh to himself authority therein shall be
hated_. _A backbiting tongue hath disquieted many_; _strong cities hath
it pulled down_, _and overthrown the houses of great men_. _The tongue
of a man is his fall_; _but if thou love to hear_, _thou shall receive
understanding_.