brutal people can tell the truth or hesitate to lie — and that right roundly." In such cases the public, including the very people deceived (except the murderer, who deserves no consideration), applaud the lie; no lack of confidence is engendered.

Other cases, less commonly discussed, are equally clear. A mother has just lost a son whom she has idealized and believed to be pure; his classmates know him to have been a rake. If she asks them about his character, will not all feel called upon to deceive her, and leave her in her bereavement at least free from that worst sting? When a timid woman or a sensitive child is alarmed, say, for example, at sea in a fog, will not a considerate companion reiterate assurance that there is little or no danger, even when he himself believes the risk may be great? When a man is asked about some matter which he has promised to keep secret, if the attempt to evade the question in the nature of the case is practically a letting-out of the secret, there seems sometimes to be hardly an alternative to lying. Mrs. Gerould puts it thus: "A question put by some one who has no right. to the information demanded, deserves no truth. If a casual gossip should ask me whether my unmarried great-aunt lived beyond her means, I should feel justified in saying that she did not although it might be the private family scandal that she did. There are inquiries which are a sort of moral burglary."2

...

(2) In regard to the little lies which form a part of the conventions of polite society, there may be difference of opinion. Their aim is to obviate hurting people's feelings, to oil the wheels of social intercourse; no one is seriously 1 Ethics, p. 103.

2 In the Atlantic essay referred to at the end of this chapter. The unassigned quotations following are from that paper, which I am particularly glad to commend after rather curtly criticizing that other essay of hers in the preceding chapter.

misled by them. When asked by one's hostess if one likes what is apparently the only dish provided, or if one has had enough when one is really still hungry, the average courteous man will murmur a gallant falsehood. What harm can be done thereby, and why cause her useless embarrassment? "We simply have to be polite as our race and clime understand politeness, and no one except a naïf is really going to take this sort of thing seriously." "To thank a stupid hostess for the pleasure she has not given, is loving one's neighbor as one's self." "I know only one person whom I could count on not to indulge herself in these conventional falsehoods, and she has never been able, so far as I know, to keep a friend. The habit of literal truth-telling, frankly, is self-indulgence of the worst." In some circles, at least, the phrase "not at home" is generally understood as a politer form of "not seeing visitors."

It must be admitted, however, that there is danger in these courteous untruths. If the visitor does not understand the "not at home" in the conventional sense, she may be deeply hurt and lose her trust in her friend, if she by chance discovers her to have been in the house at the time. Nor is it always wise to truckle to sensibilities that may be foolish; blunt truthfulness, even if unpalatable, is often in the end the best service. There are cases where untruthfulness is shirking one's duty, just as there are cases where truthfulness is mean or brutal. To tell what we honestly think of a person, or his work, may mean to discourage him and invite demoralization or failure; to attribute virtues or powers to him which he actually does not possess may be to foster those virtues or powers in him. Or the reverse may be the case; his individual need may be of frank criticism or rebuke. The concrete decision can only be reached by following the guidance of the law of kindness, the Apostle's counsel of speaking truth in love."/

66

(3) In this connection it may be well to go further and emphasize the fact that there are many cases, not necessitating a lie, where the truth is not to be thrust at people.

“Friend, though thy soul should burn thee, yet be still.

Thoughts were not meant for strife, nor tongues for swords,

He that sees clear is gentlest of his words,

And that's not truth that hath the heart to kill."

There are usually pleasant enough things that one can say though one may be hard put to it; and if the truth must be told, it may often be sugar-coated. President Hadley, when a young man, was receiving instructions for a delicate negotiation. "If the issue is forced upon us," he interrupted, "there is, I think, nothing to do but to tell the truth." "Even then," replied his chief, "not butt end foremost."

Cases of religious disbelief will occur to every one. While all hypocrisy and truckling to the majority opinion is ignoble, the blunt announcement of disbelief may do much more harm than good. Truth is not the only ideal; men live by their beliefs, and one who cannot accept a doctrine which is precious and inspiring to others should think twice before helping to destroy it. Not only may he, after all, be in the wrong, or but half right; even if he is wholly right, it may not be wise to thrust his truth upon those whom it may discourage or morally paralyze.1

In what directions are our standards of truthfulness low?

Truthfulness in private affairs averages fairly high in our times. Many people will, indeed, lie about the age of a child for the sake of paying the half-fare rate, use the return half of a round-trip ticket sold only for the original purchaser's use, or look unconcernedly out of the window if they think

1 On the ethics of outspokenness in religious matters, see H. Sidgwick, Practical Ethics, chap. vi; J. S. Mill, Inaugural Address at St. Andrews; Matthew Arnold, Prefaces to Literature and Dogma and God and the Bible. F. Paulsen, System of Ethics, bk. III, chap. xi, sec. 10.

66

the conductor will pass them by without collecting fare. Certain forms of such oral or tacit lying are so common that people of looser standards adopt them with the excuse that 'every one does it," or that "the company can afford to lose it." But in more public matters the prevalence of untruthfulness is much more shocking. Standards are low or unformulated, and it is often extremely difficult for the honorable man to know what to do; strict truthfulness would deprive him of his position. We may barely hint at some of these situations.

(1) In business, misstatement is generally expected of a salesman. Advertisements of bargains, for example, have to be discounted by the wary shopper. "$10 value, reduced to $3.98," may mean something worth really $3. "Finest quality" may mean average quality; goods passed off as first-class may be shoddy or adulterated. Labels on foodstuffs and drugs are, happily, controlled to some degree by the national government; there ought to be a similar control over all advertising. Much is being done by the better magazines in investigating goods and refusing untruthful advertising; and many houses have built up a deserved reputation for reliability. But still the economical householder has to spend much time in comparing prices and studying values, that he may be sure he is not being cheated.

(2) In politics, frank truth-telling is almost rare. It is deemed necessary to suppress what sounds unfavorable to a candidate's chances, to make unfair insinuations against opponents, to juggle statistics, emphasize half-truths, and work generally for the party by fair means or foul. Too great candor in admitting the truth in opponents' arguments or the worth of their candidates would be sharply reprimanded by party leaders.

Especially in international diplomacy is truthfulness far to seek. Secretary Hay, indeed, endeavored to carry out the

policy stated in the following words: "The principles which have guided us have been of limpid simplicity. . . . We have set no traps; we have wasted no time in evading the imaginary traps of others. . . . There might be worse reputations for a country to acquire than that of always speaking the truth, and always expecting it from others. In bargaining we have tried not to get the worst of the deal, always remembering, however, that the best bargains are those that satisfy both sides. . . . Let us hope we may never be big enough to outgrow our conscience." Other American diplomats have followed the same ideal. But American diplomacy has been labeled abroad as "crude," and is perpetually in danger of lapsing from this moral level.

(3) The profession of the lawyer presents peculiarly difficult problems. May he so manipulate the facts in his plea as to convince a jury of what he is himself not convinced? May he by use of the argumentum ad populum, by his eloquence and skill, win a case which he does not believe in at heart? In some ancient codes lawyers had to swear not to defend causes which they believed unjust. But this is hardly fair to a client, since, even though appearances are against him, he may be innocent; whatever can be said for him should be discovered and presented to the tribunal. Dr. Johnson said: "You are not to deceive your client with false representations of your opinion, you are not to tell lies to the judge, but you need have no scruple about taking up a case which you believe to be bad, or affecting a warmth which you do not feel. You do not know your cause to be bad till the judge determines it. . . . An argument which does not convince you may convince the judge, and, if it does convince him, you are wrong and he is right.”1

1 Quoted by W. E. H. Lecky, The Map of Life, p. 110. The chapter which contains this quotation gives an interesting discussion of the ethics of the lawyer and some further references on the subject.