Sermons on Evil-Speaking

In Short

This collection of sermons offers a rigorous, seventeenth-century moral examination of how humans communicate. Moving from the thin line between sharp wit and sinful mockery to the destructive nature of rash swearing and slander, the text serves as a manual for ethical speech. It remains relevant because its core concern—the way our words reflect our internal character—transcends its era. By urging readers to cultivate a "stately gravity" and genuine charity toward their neighbors, these sermons provide a timeless argument for why kindness and truth are the highest forms of wisdom.

The Story

The progression of these sermons mirrors the development of a mature Christian life, moving outward from the internal regulation of one’s own mind to the external impact of one’s speech upon the community. The argument begins by addressing the "lepid" or facetious way of speaking. Here, the author acknowledges a human need for humor and diversion, but he immediately sets boundaries. Facetiousness is only lawful when it is innocent—meaning it does not infringe upon piety, justice, or the reputation of others. He warns that when wit turns into "biting and scratching," it ceases to be a social grace and becomes a tool of profound wickedness, marking the speaker as a "scorner" who is actively working against the goodness of his neighbor.

From the misuse of wit, the text transitions into the grave matter of "rash and vain swearing." The argument here is that the divine name is a sanctuary, and to invoke it for trivial, angry, or dishonest purposes is a form of sacrilege that "desecrates" the sacred. He argues that this behavior is not merely a breach of religious duty but a collapse of the social contract. Without a shared sense of awe and a genuine, internal commitment to truth, human society loses its ability to rely on oaths, testimonies, and promises. He portrays the habitual swearer as a "mad hectoring" force, someone who chooses to swagger against the quiet stability required for a peaceful and honest life.

The final, and perhaps most extensive, arc of the work focuses on the "folly of slander." Having established that the tongue should be an instrument of mutual benefit, the author systematically dismantles the motives behind character assassination. He describes slander not as a clever or sophisticated tactic, but as the mark of a "fool." He dissects the ways in which people project their own insecurities onto others—accusing neighbors of greed or hypocrisy simply because they recognize those traits in themselves. He concludes that the slanderer is the primary victim of his own practice, as he forfeits his integrity and invites the enmity of those he has wronged. The cycle of the book ends with a call to replace this "poisonous breath" with the "spirit of meekness." The goal is not merely to refrain from speaking evil, but to actively replace suspicion with the kind of charitable interpretation that seeks to heal wounds rather than inflict them. The ultimate resolution is a return to a "stately gravity," where speech is used to glorify the creator and nurture the brother, restoring the dignity of both the speaker and the listener.

How It Unfolds

The limits of wit The discourse opens by validating the human need for laughter and diversion, but immediately fences this off. It argues that facetiousness must remain "innocent," serving as a tool to refresh the mind rather than a weapon to demean others.

The sanctity of the oath The focus shifts to the gravity of swearing, framing it as a dangerous and ill-favored practice. It warns that using the divine name for trivial reasons is a form of hypocrisy that undermines the very foundation of social trust.

The anatomy of slander The argument identifies slander as a malicious, reflexive habit that often arises from the slanderer's own internal corruption. It categorizes those who listen to and encourage gossip as just as guilty as those who invent it, calling them "slanderous ears."

The folly of the tongue The final movement centers on the irrationality of the slanderer’s life. It posits that because slander inevitably provokes retaliation and creates lasting discord, the person who engages in it is, by definition, a fool who has traded his own peace for a moment of spite.

The People

The text is driven by archetypes rather than specific individuals, yet these figures feel remarkably human. There is the "Scorner" or "Pest," a person whose mind has been hardened by wickedness. This individual seeks to make others ashamed of their virtue, viewing any display of goodness as an affront to his own cynicism. He is the personification of the "biting tongue," and his arc is one of isolation, as his own behavior eventually drives away those he once sought to influence.

Opposing him is the "Christian of Stately Gravity," a person who maintains a "composedness" of mind. This figure is not a sour or humorless person; rather, he is one who understands that his words have weight. He wants to be "the friend and child of God," and he sees his speech as a tool for "mutual succour." He is the one who practices "fraternal censure" with a gentle hand, always seeking the "comely scar" of a healed wound rather than the infection of a fresh insult.

Finally, there is the "Foolish Slanderer," a character often mirrored by the "half-witted Machiavellian." This person is driven by "exorbitant heats of spirit" and a need to project his own failings onto others. He wants to tear down his neighbor to feel taller, yet he ends up diminished, having "made shipwreck of a good conscience." He represents the tragedy of human wasted potential, someone who could have used his unique faculty of speech to build, but chose to "debase" himself instead.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the permissible use of humor in conversation:

"If jocular discourse may serve to good purposes of this kind; if it may be apt to raise our drooping spirits, to allay our irksome cares, to whet our blunted industry, to recreate our minds being tired and cloyed with graver occupations; if it may breed alacrity, or maintain good humour among us; if it may conduce to sweeten conversation and endear society; then is it not inconvenient, or unprofitable."

Regarding the moral duty to refrain from destroying a neighbor's reputation:

"Humanity requireth that when we undertake to reform our neighbour, we should take care not to deform him (not to discourage or displease him more than is necessary); when we would correct his manners, that we should also consider his modesty, and consult his reputation."

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an inquiry into the ethics of human agency. It asks: if we are the only creatures gifted with the power of speech, what does it mean to use that gift well? The author argues that speech is an extension of the soul; therefore, a person who speaks recklessly or maliciously is inherently broken. The text explores the tension between our desire for social validation—which often leads us to gossip or mock—and the deeper, more difficult requirement of charity. It is a profound meditation on the responsibility of the individual to act as a steward of the truth, arguing that our private words are the most accurate reflection of our true character.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate classic moral philosophy or the intricate, muscular prose of the seventeenth century will find much to admire here. The author writes with a blend of intellectual sharpness and pastoral warmth, making even his most stern corrections feel like an act of genuine care. It is not an easy read; the language is dense, and the classical references require a degree of patience. However, the experience of reading these pages is like sitting before a mirror that refuses to flatter. The author’s insistence that "slanderous ears" are just as complicit as "slanderous tongues" hits with the force of a modern observation, challenging the reader to consider their role in the digital age's culture of outrage.

If you are interested in the discipline of one's own mind, or if you feel the weight of a world increasingly defined by reckless speech, this book offers a bracing, necessary perspective. It provides a blueprint for a life of "stately gravity," reminding us that our words should be instruments of construction, not destruction. While the period attitudes toward "high rank" and "venerable majesty" reflect his own time, the underlying call to "fear God" and "keep thy gravity" remains a profound antidote to the vanity and noise of the present.