And this seems to be that particular piece of inconsistency and contradiction which the text is levelled at, in which the words seem so pointed, as if St. James had known more flagrant instances of this kind of delusion than what had fallen under the observation of any of the rest of the apostles; he being more remarkably vehement and copious upon that subject than any other.
Doubtless some of his converts had been notoriously wicked and licentious, in this remorseless practice of defamation and evil-speaking. Perhaps the holy man, though spotless as an angel, (for no character is too sacred for calumny to blacken,) had grievously suffered himself, and as his blessed master foretold him, had been cruelly reviled, and evil spoken of.
All his labours in the gospel, his unaffected and perpetual sollicitude for the preservation of his flock, his watchings, his fastings, his poverty, his natural simplicity and innocence of life, all perhaps were not enough to defend him from this unruly weapon, so full of deadly poison. And what in all likelyhood might move his sorrow and indignation more, some who seemed the most devout and zealous of all his converts, were the most merciless and uncharitable in that respect. Having a of godliness, full of bitter envyings and strife.
With such it is that he expostulates so largely in the third chapter of his epistle; and there is something in his vivacity tempered with such affection and concern, as well suited the character of an inspired man. My brethren, says the apostle, these things ought not to be. — The wisdom that is from above is pure, peaceable, gentle, full of mercy, without partiality, without hypocrisy. The wisdom from above, — that heavenly religion which I have preached to you, is pure, alike and consistent with itself in all its parts; like its great author, ’tis universally kind and benevolent in all cases and circumstances. Its first glad tydings, were peace upon earth, good will towards men; its chief corner stone, its most distinguishing character is love, that kind principle which brought it down, in the pure exercise of which consists the chief enjoyment of heaven from whence it came. But this practice, my brethren, cometh not from above, but is earthly, sensual, devilish, full of confusion and every evil work. Reflect then a moment; can a fountain send forth at the same place, sweet water and bitter? Can the fig tree my brethren bear olive berries, either a vine, figs? Lay your hands upon your hearts, and let your consciences speak. — Ought not the same just principle which restrains you from cruelty and wrong in one case, equally to withhold you from it in another? — Should not charity and good will, like the principle of life, circulating through the smallest vessels in every member, ought it not to operate as regularly upon you, throughout, as well upon your words, as upon your actions?
If a man is wise and endued with knowledge, let him shew it, out of a good conversation, with meekness of wisdom. But — if any man amongst you, seemeth to be religious, — seemeth to be, — for truly religious he cannot be, — and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man’s religion is vain. — This is the full force of St. James’s reasoning, upon which I have dwelt the more, it being the foundation, upon which is grounded this clear decision of the matter left us in the text. In which the apostle seems to have set the two characters of a saint and a slanderer, at such variance, that one would have thought they could never have had a heart to have met together again. But there are no alliances too strange for this world. — How many may we observe every day, even of the gentler sex, as well as our own, who without conviction of doing much wrong, in the midst of a full career of calumny and defamation, rise up punctual at the stated hour of prayer, leave the cruel story half untold till they return, — go, — and kneel down before the throne of heaven, thank God that he had not made them like others, and that his Holy Spirit had enabled them to perform the duties of the day, in so christian and conscientious a manner!
This delusive itch for slander, too common in all ranks of people, whether to gratify a little ungenerous resentment; — whether oftener out of a principle of levelling from a narrowness and poverty of soul, ever impatient of merit and superiority in others; whether a mean ambition or the insatiate lust of being wity, (a talent in which ill-nature and malice are no ingredients,) — or lastly, whether from a natural cruelty of disposition, abstracted from all views and considerations of self: to which one, or whether to all jointly we are indebted for this contagious malady; thus much is certain, from whatever seeds it springs, its growth and progress of it are as destructive to, as they are unbecoming a civilized people. To pass a hard and ill-natured reflection, upon an undesigning action; to invent, or which is equally bad, to propagate a vexatious report, without colour and grounds; to plunder an innocent man of his character and good name, a jewel which perhaps he has starved himself to purchase, and probably would hazard his life to secure; to rob him at the same time of his happiness and peace of mind; perhaps his bread, — the bread may be of a virtuous family; and all this, as Solomon says of the madman, who casteth fire-brands, arrows and death, and saith, Am I not in sport? all this, out of wantonness, and oftener from worse motives; the whole appears such a complication of badness, as requires no words or warmth of fancy to aggravate, Pride, treachery, envy, hypocrisy, malice, cruelty, and self-love, may have been said in one shape or other, to have occasioned all the frauds and mischiefs that ever happened in the world; but the chances against a coincidence of them all in one person are so many, that one would have supposed the character of a common slanderer as rare and difficult a production in nature, as that of a great genius, which seldom happens above once in an age.
But whatever was the case, when St. James wrote his epistle, we have been very successful in later days, and have found out the art, by a proper management of light and shade, to compound all these vices together, so as to give body and strength to the whole, whilst no one but a discerning artist is able to discover the labours that join in finishing the picture. — And indeed, like many other bad originals in the world, — it stands in need of all the disguise it has. — For who could be enamoured of a character, made up of so loathsome a compound, — could they behold it naked, — in its crooked and deformed shape, — with all its natural and detested infirmities laid open to public view?
And therefore, it were to be wished, that one could do in this malignant case of the mind, — what is generally done for the public good, in the more malignant and epidemical cases of the body, — that is, — when they are found infectious, — to write a history of the distemper, — and ascertain all the symptoms of the malady, so that every one might know, whom he might venture to go near, with tolerable safety to himself. — But alas! the symptoms of this appear in so many strange, and contradictory shapes, and vary so wonderfully with the temper and habit of the patient, that they are not to be classed, — or reduced to any one regular system.
Ten thousand are the vehicles, in which this deadly poison is prepared and communicated to the world, — and by some artful hands, ’tis done by so subtle and nice an infusion, that it is not to be tasted or discovered, but by its effects.
How frequently is the honesty and integrity of a man, disposed of, by a smile or a shrug? — How many good and generous actions, have been sunk into oblivion, by a distrustful look, — or stampt with the imputation of proceeding from bad motives, by a mysterious and seasonable whisper?
Look into companies of those whose gentle natures should disarm them, — we shall find no better account. — How large a portion of chastity is sent out of the world by distant hints, — nodded away, and cruelly winked into suspicion, by the envy of those, who are passed all temptation of it themselves. — How often does the reputation of a helpless creature bleed by a report — which the party, who is at the pains to propagate it, beholds with so much pity and fellow-feeling, — that she is heartily sorry for it, — hopes in God it is not true; — however, as Arch-bishop Tillotson witily observes upon it, is resolved in the mean time to give the report her pass, that at least it may have fair play to take its fortune in the world, — to be believed or not, according to the c
harity of those, into whose hands it shall happen to fall.
So fruitful is this vice in variety of expedients, to satiate as well as disguise itself. But if these smoother weapons cut so sore, — what shall we say of open and unblushing scandal — subjected to no caution, — tied down to no restraints? — If the one, like an arrow shot in the dark does nevertheless so much secret mischief, — this like the pestilence, which rageth at noon day, sweeps all before it, levelling without distinction the good and the bad; a thousand fall beside it, and ten thousand on its right hand, — they fall, — so rent and torn in this tender part of them, so unmercifully butchered, as sometimes never to recover either the wounds, — or the anguish of heart, — which they have occasioned. —
But there is nothing so bad which will not admit of something to be said in its defence.
And here it may be asked, — Whether the inconveniences and ill effects which the world feels, — from the licentiousness of this practice — are not sufficiently counterballanced by the real influence it has upon mens lives and conduct? — That if there was no evil-speaking in the world, thousands would be encouraged to do ill, — and would rush into many indecorums, like a horse into the battle, — were they sure to escape the tongues of men.
That if we take a general view of the world, — we shall find that a great deal of virtue, — at least of the outward appearance of it, — is not so much from any fixed principle, as the terror of what the world will say, — and the liberty it will take upon the occasions we shall give.
That if we descend to particulars, numbers are every day taking more pains to be well spoken of, — than what would actually enable them to live so as to deserve it.
That there are many of both sexes, who can support life well enough, without honour or chastity, — who without reputation, (which is but the opinion which the world has of the matter,) would hide their head in shame, and sink down in utter despair of happiness. — No doubt the tongue is a weapon, which does chastise many indecorums, which the laws of men will not reach, — and keeps many in awe, — whom conscience will not, — and where the case is indisputably flagrant, — the speaking of it in such words as it deserves, — scarce comes within the prohibition. — In many cases, ’tis hard to express ourselves so as to fix a distinction betwixt opposite characters, — and sometimes it may be as much a debt we owe to virtue, and as great a piece of justice to expose a vicious character, and paint it in its proper colours, — as it is to speak well of the deserving, and describe his particular virtues. — And, indeed, when we inflict this punishment upon the bad, merely out of principle, and without indulgences to any private passion of our own,— ’tis a case which happens so seldom, that one might venture to except it.
However to those, who in this objection are really concerned for the cause of virtue, I cannot help recommending what would much more effectually serve her interest, and be a surer token of their zeal and attachment to her. And that is, — in all such plain instances where it seems to be duty, to fix a distinction betwixt the good and the bad, — to let their actions speak it, instead of their words, or at least to let them both speak one language. We all of us talk so loud against vicious characters, and are so unanimous in our cry against them, — that an unexperienced man, who only trusted his ears, would imagine the whole world was in an uproar about it and that mankind were all associating, together, to hunt vice utterly out of the world. — Shift the scene, — and let him behold the reception which vice meets with, — he will see the conduct and behavior of the world towards it, so opposite to their declarations, — he will find all he heard, so contradicted by what he saw, — as to leave him in doubt, which of his senses he is to trust, — or in which of the two cases, mankind were really in earnest. Was there virtue enough in the world to make a general stand against this contradiction, — that is, — was every one who deserved to be ill spoken of — sure to be ill looked on — too; was it a certain consequence of the loss of a man’s character, — to lose his friends, — to lose the advantages of his birth and fortune, — and thenceforth be universally shunned, universally slighted. —
Was no quality a shelter against the indecorums of the other sex, but was every woman without distinction, — who had justly forfeited her reputation, — from that moment was she sure to forfeit likewise all claim to civility and respect. —
Or in a word, — could it be established as a law in our ceremonial, — that wherever characters in either sex were become notorious, — it should be deemed infamous, either to pay or receive a visit from them, and that the door shut against them in all public places, till they had satisfied the world, by giving testimony of a better life. — A few such plain and honest maxims faithfully put in practice, — would force us upon some degree of reformation. Till this, is done, — it avails little that we have no mercy upon them with our tongues, since they escape without feeling any other inconvenience.
We all cry out that the world is corrupt, — and I fear too justly, — but we never reflect, what we have to thank for it, and that it is our open countenance of vice, which gives the lye to our private censures of it, which is its chief protection and encouragement. — To those however, who still believe, that evil-speaking is some terror to evil doers, one may answer, as a great man has done upon the occasion, — that after all our exhortations against it,— ’tis not to be feared, but that there will be evil-speaking enough left in the world to chastise the guilty, — and we may safely trust them to an ill-natured world, that there will be no failure of justice upon this score. — The passions of men are pretty severe executioners, and to them let us leave this ungrateful task, — and rather ourselves endeavour to cultivate that more friendly one, recommended by the apostle, — of letting all bitterness, and wrath, and clamour, and evil-speaking, be put away from us, — of being kind to one another, — tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake forgave us. Amen.
SERMON XII. JOSEPH’S HISTORY CONSIDERED. FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.
GENESIS L. 15.
And when Joseph’s brethren saw that their father was dead, they said, Joseph will peradventure hate us, and will certainly requite us all the evil which we did unto him.
THERE are few instances of the exercise of particular virtues which seem harder to attain to, or which appear more amiable and engaging in themselves, than those of moderation and the forgiveness of injuries; and when the temptations against them, happen to be heightened by the bitterness of a provocation on one hand, and the fairness of an opportunity to retaliate on the other, the instances then are truly great and heroic. The words of the text, which are the consultation of the sons of Jacob amongst themselves upon their father Israel’s death, when because it was in Joseph’s power to revenge the deadly injury they had formerly done him, they concluded in course, that it was in his intention, will lead us to a beautiful example of this kind in the character and behavior of Joseph consequent thereupon; and as it seems a perfect and very engaging pattern of forbearance, it may not be improper to make it serve for the ground-work of a discourse upon that subject. — The whole transaction from the first occasion given by Joseph in his youth, to this last act of remission, at the conclusion of his life, may be said to be a masterpiece of history. There is not only in the manner throughout such a happy though uncommon mixture of simplicity and grandeur, which is a double character so hard to be united, that it is seldom to be met with in compositions merely human; — but it is likewise related with the greatest variety of tender and affecting circumstances, which would afford matter for reflections useful for the conduct of almost every part and stage of a man’s life. — But as the words of the text, as well as the intention and compass of this discourse, particularly confine me to speak only to one point, namely, the forgiveness of injuries, it will be proper only to consider such circumstances of the story, as will place this instance of it in its just light; and then proceed to make a more general use of the great example of moderation and forbearance, which it sets b
efore us.
It seems strange at first sight, that after the sons of Jacob had fallen into Joseph’s power, when they were forced by the soreness of the famine to go down into Egypt to buy corn, and had found him too good a man even to expostulate with them for an injury, which he seemed then to have digested, and piously to have resolved into the over-ruling providence of God, for the preservation of much people, how they could ever after question the uprightness of his intentions, or entertain the least suspicion that his reconciliation was dissembled. Would not one have imagined, that the man who had discovered such a goodness of soul, that he sought where to weep, because he could not bear the struggle of a counterfeited harshness, could never be suspected afterwards of intending a real one; — and that he only waited till their father Israel’s death, to requite them all the evil which they had done unto him. What still adds to this difficulty is, that his affectionate manner of making himself known to them; — his goodness in forbearing, not only to reproach them for the injury they had formerly done him, but extenuating and excusing the fault to themselves, his comforting, and speaking kindly to them, and seconding all with the tenderest marks of an undisguised forgiveness, in falling upon their necks, and weeping aloud, that all the house of Pharaoh heard him; — that moreover this behavior of Joseph could not appear to them, to be the effect of any warm and sudden transport, which might as suddenly give way to other reflections, but that it evidently sprung from a settled principle of uncommon generosity in his nature, which was above the temptation of making use of an opportunity for revenge, which the course of God’s providence had put into his hands for better purposes; and what might still seemed to confirm this, was the evidence of his actions to them afterwards, in bringing them and all their houshold up out of Canaan, and placing them near him in the land of Goshen, the richest part of Egypt, where they had had so many years experience of his love and kindness. And yet it is plain all this did not clear his motive from suspicion, or at least themselves of some apprehensions of a change in his conduct towards them. And was it not that the whole transaction was wrote under the direction of the Spirit of truth, and that other historians concur in doing justice to Joseph’s character, and speak of him as a compassionate, and merciful man, one would be apt, you will say, to imagine here, that Moses might possibly have omitted some circumstances of Joseph’s behavior, which had alarmed his brethren, betwixt the time of his first reconciliation and that of their father’s death. — For they could not be suspicious of his intentions without some cause, and fear where no fear was. — But does not a guilty conscience often do so? — and though it has the grounds, yet wants the power to think itself safe.
Complete Works of Laurence Sterne Page 86
