Truth and the White Lie: A Conversation

WE have Shakespeare to witness: —

“Joques, Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie ?

“ Touchstone. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book ; as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees.”

“ ‘ He has the virtue of his faults ’ is a statement frequently uttered by those who err on the side of charity. He is a spendthrift, but then the distressed and needy know where to go for ready succor. He is a ‘ bitter bad ’ foe, but, on that very account, the most ardent of champions where a friend’s cause is at stake.”

“ Yes. In the disorderly train of such reasoning glides many an insinuating fallacy, yet the popular voice does not demur. Perhaps, then, one who utters the contra-paradox may in some measure be treated with indulgence, as should one say, ‘ He has the fault of his virtues.’ Indeed, relying on the exercise of such clemency, I had very nearly chosen for the caption of the paper I am writing the ‘smart’ advertisement On the Vice of Telling the Truth ; but why should a lover of verity, both of the temporary and of the eternal order, foolishly incur a reputation for being the apostle of mendacity ? And yet I am strongly tempted to some investigation of current ideas regarding the virtue of literal veracity, to ascertain whether there may not be more of superstition than of piety involved therein.”

“ In our childhood, before it could be affirmed of us that

in that tender, growing season of conscience and right conduct, our elders, as I have since learned, were often much perplexed, wishing, on the one hand, to instill the beauty of absolute verity, and, on the other, to avoid the sometimes most inconveniently translucent utterance of ‘ babes and sucklings.’ What, then, would those prudent guardians of ours do but, on some occasion of terrible frankness on our part, admonish us that ‘ the truth is not to be told at all times,’ with other similar mortifying discouragers of our free speech ! Also, when hard pressed by the artless logic of our persistent inquiries, those revered casuists would divulge to us the fact that there was such a thing as a white lie. Thus, we early learned that there might be ‘ degrees ’ in the iniquitous nature of falsehood, — venial infractions of the truth, one might say ; a ‘ lie seven times removed,’ to quote from the merry persiflage adopted in Arden Forest.”

“ Perhaps it would be well, in the first place, to ask the oft-propounded question, ‘ What is the Truth ?’ before concerning ourselves with the prismatic tintings which may be cast upon its surface by willful prevarication. An ingenious friend of mine insists that it takes intelligence to tell the truth ; which is met by the very general belief that any simplician is equal to that accomplishment, while great astuteness is necessary and pertinent to the act of lying. For my part, I have not found it a unique or an unusual situation that, with entire readiness of intent to make an unequivocal statement, communication could not be successfully established between the persons concerned; winged words suffer transformation while passing from the speaker to the hearer. ‘ How shall I tell the truth in your language ? ’ has on such occasions been my mental inquiry, and the embarrassment therein implied has been my despair.”

“ It was a wise sage who observed that he who tells the simple truth ‘ will always find himself in sufficiently dramatic situations ; ’ ay, and it might be added, sufficently tragic ones. Nor will the tragedy concern himself alone, but others too must suffer frequently from such virtuous indiscretion ! Resolute as we may be, we are not at all times braced to receive the whole truth, if it be truth vital to ourselves ; and yet there is always some hardy volunteer who cheerfully undertakes confronting us with it. It is of such a one that the following fable is related : —

“ I recommend you to transfer your ‘ fable ’ to the paper you are writing. In view of all the social cruelties inflicted in the name of Truth (as, long ago, in that of Liberty), one is moved to think that there may be higher truth than mere truth-telling. I have known many a sweet soul who, to avert unmerited pain from some listener, hesitated not to tamper, to any extent, with a killing fact, so that its malice might be rendered innocuous. But this was to be done either by remaining silent at some critical juncture in the conversation, or by some adroit prevarication ; never by absolute infraction of the sacred letter of truth ! ” “ Such benevolent hearts, but niggardly logicians, thus reserved to themselves the pleasing consciousness of having acted humanely, and yet of having preserved the integrity of their truth (not impairing their credit with any possibly listening Recording Angel). The question may be referred, I think: whether such persons might not have added a touch of greatness to their action if, instead of cautiously temporizing between the higher truth and the petty figment of the tongue, they had gone in good faith about their humane lie, cheerfully within themselves acknowledging it as such, and before men, if the time came for its avowal. Not long ago, the story was told me of a worthy Quaker dame who, in the days of the Underground Railway, was asked by a pursuing master whether a runaway slave had recently passed her house, and in which direction. With great apparent zeal to serve, she replied, ‘ Yes. Go as fast as you can down the road, and when you come to the corner turn to your right! ’ And the pursuer rushed madly on. The good old dame, by giving precisely the wrong directions, had saved the slave, and also, as she devoutly believed, the whiteness of her own soul in its account with Truth. As a curious comment on this incident, I am obliged to say that the relater adduced it as illustrating how one might, in the interests of a compassionate act, bend the truth without breaking it. Such palpable resorts do not strike us as unbecoming in immature natures or in those who are hemmed in by inherited dogma ; but those who have obtained a wider view of life, who have both forgiven and been forgiven much, can well afford to tell their merciful lies con animo, courageously, honestly, I will even say.”

“ I recall out of the ingenuous memorabilia of childhood — that same childhood in which we first learned the nature of the white lie — a fragment which bears testimony on the subject. Surely, no code could be freer from sophistication, none more soundly based on a few first, principles, than the schoolboy’s code of morals. Also, the love of truth is there, if not inherent, still germane. But to my recollections. A number of young lads had formed a society, into which entrance could be obtained, or otherwise, according as a certain test question was answered. Each candidate for admission was confronted with this proposition: ‘ If an Indian should come into your house, and should ask if your mother was there (and your mother was hidden some where about the house), which would you do, say she was n’t there, or tell the truth and let the Indian kill your mother ? ’ As I remember, all candidates were promptly matriculated save one unfortunate lad, who, either lacking the cue or from hyperæsthesia of conscience, returned that he ‘ would tell the truth.’ Take another instance. Some ladies were once discussing at a luncheon the merits of the subject Truth and the White Lie. An absent acquaintance, Mrs. ——, was cited as never having told a lie in her whole life: for her, to lie was, in fact, an impossibility, so said her eulogist. There was general assent to this proposition, a murmur of approbation, qualified, however, by the quiet observation of a little lady present, to whom the uncompromising truth-teller was a stranger, ‘ Then I should fear that she will some day commit a great cruelty.’ ”

“ Might the observation be ventured that even in the Decalogue, in the ninth commandment, there is so much connivance as silence may give to our plea for a merciful coloration of truth when occasion seems to require ? We are thus enjoined: ‘ Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.’ Each may read the sacred word with emphasis where his heart or understanding dictates. One interpretation, however, would place the stress upon the phrase ‘ against thy neighbor.’ ”

“ It may be that the fruitful source of much apparently necessitated lying (pro bono publico as well as for the private good) is to be found in the fact that so many people question indiscreetly, unwarrantedly, and uncharitably. When I am asked for something which is mine and which I am not disposed to surrender, from the demand of the highwayman for my purse to the least of such exactions regarding property, I am allowed to evade the demand by whatever artifice I can call to my aid, since direct refusal does not suffice. On the same principle, it might be argued that when people seek information to which they are not entitled, they too demand something that is mine, namely, my truth. If I do not wish to part with that treasure, it is surely my privilege to retain it. Unfortunately, it cannot be retained by the same positive methods of denial that one would use in meeting any importunity regarding move concrete forms of property; at least, few habitually truthful persons even are given to defending themselves by the bald declaration, ‘I will not tell you what you wish to know.’ On the contrary, all kinds and degrees of verbal fencing are used, all manner of white lies or approximate falsehood, to ward off the inquisitors. And if this method be justifiable in self-defense, by every law of altruism it is justifiable in the defense of others whose truth (that is, the truth about them) happens to be lodged in our keeping.”

“ Ah, that keeping of the ‘ sacred confidence ’ of our friends ! How often have I traveled about with it, or dwelt painfully at home with it, committed for its sake benevolent perjuries without number, to find, in the end, that I had been needlessly sedulous; for the whole matter had lapsed both in fact and in the interest of the original depositor.

“ True. For most secrets, so confided, there comes a time when they are outlawed; perhaps there are more dead secrets of this sort than of any other denomination in mortality.”

“ It is a pity that one who possesses an ingrained love of truth should, out of mistaken charity for an unworthy object, lend one’s self to lying, to say nothing of prevarication, which is still more contrary to his freeborn notions.”

“ Do you think that one ever lies successfully who has that ‘ ingrained love of truth ’ ? ”

“ Having the intelligence to know what truth is and to practice it, he would, perhaps, be all the more discriminating when he undertook the perversion of truth. There is nothing duller than the habitual liar, who is so from the mere love of falsehood; but then, with all his dullness, he has one great advantage over the brightest amateur in the school of mendacity. That advantage is the constant exercise of the deceptive faculty. However, there is another consideration. My ingenious friend, whom I quoted awhile ago, gave me still another point. It was, ‘ In order to be believed, you must be credible.’ Now, credibility, it seems to me, is a quality apart; it may be possessed either by the truth-teller or by the hopeless apostate from all truth.”

“ Lying, as a fine art, I abhor, although if, for the humane reasons we have cited, it must be done, it were well that it should be well done. And I do believe it possible that many who are most scrupulous in literal truth-telling have in far less degree the sense and love of verity than have some others who can and will color truth for a justifiable cause. If I too may cite Scripture for my argument, I should say that special condemnation falls only on ‘ whosoever loveth and maketh a lie.’ And would it be a perversion to add the interpretation, ‘ maketh a lie because of love for the lie ’ ? ”

“ I believe the case between Truth and Falsehood, the case of their possible interchangeableness, might be summed up very briefly. A versicle on that head, if you will permit:—

“ Yes. Liars have been known to tell the truth, inspired by cruelty or by hatred.” (After an interval.) “ I have been thinking that, after our full, mutual avowal of belief in the blessing and benefit to be derived from the suppression of truth, — nay, even from actual truthicide, — — it may be extremely difficult to know when the practice may be turned upon one’s self.”

“ That will not so much trouble me, for I shall know (if at all, I suspect) that your intentions are of the most benevolent. It may, indeed, be necessary in some instances to soften a harsh truth for my behoof. And I will do as I would be done by. Nevertheless, first and last, I love telling the truth (silently). But alas ! who wants it? I have not been going about searching with my small lantern for an honest man so much as for one to whom I may myself be honest, — that is, truthful ; one with whom the truth will count.”

Edith M. Thomas.