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IMPORTANCE AND OBLIGATIONS OF TRUTH,

PHILOSOPHICALLY CONSIDERED.

To awaken an abhorrence of all falsehood and duplicity,-by depict ing, on the one hand, beautiful images of truth and honor, and presenting, on the other, the disastrous consequences of sacrificing veracity to the interests or the caprice of a moment,-is the object of several new and popular works of fiction. The subject is an old one, and has been the theme of moralists without number, for hundreds and thousands of years. Still it is not exhausted; or, if all has been said, which the various topics of argument will furnish, it must be repeated till it has been heard; till it has been attended to; till it has produced something more of its proper effect. If all the appropriate colors have been mingled in representing the beauty of truth and the deformity of falsehood, the application is to be continued. The images of both are to be multiplied. They are to be presented in every scene and situation; in the parlor and the kitchen, the public office and the private workshop. Till society in general are brought under the influence of inviolable faith and veracity, we should never say nor think that the subject is exhausted, and no more is to be said or done. On the contrary, we should welcome every judicious attempt to waken the dormant feelings of those, who confound right and wrong, truth and falsehood, and to raise them to the proper level of rational existence.

The subject requires different modes of treatment, according to the different tastes and characters of those, who are principally in view. Many there are, who must be influenced by feeling and imagination, so far as they are influenced at all. They are not in the habit of reflection or meditation. They are not accessible to argument or remonstrance. They may read what is entertaining; and, like birds or insects on the wing, they may perhaps be pierced by some of the light arrows, which are flying around them. Others, who are more alive to the realities of a future state, may derive deeper or more lasting impressions of the importance and obligations of truth, from the expostulations of the preacher, standing in the holy place; and a third class may find entertainment, as well as moral benefit, in those argumentative discussions, which trace the great duty of veracity to the unchanging principles in which it is founded. The philosophical view is so seldom given, that something of this kind will, as we trust, be regarded as not altogether unseasonable here.

Why are we required, in all our communications one with another, to speak the truth? Why is this so positively enjoined in the Scriptures? and why is it urged with so much zeal by those, who do not avail themselves of the authority of Divine inspiration? To questions like these, we answer-Because the vital interests, because the very being of society depends upon it. Society could no more live and prosper without mutual truth, than material bodies could exist without the principle of cohesive attraction. Though liars may associate for temporary purposes, there must be some truth between them; some ground amid the general ruins of falsehood for them to stand upon, or they can maintain no friendly intercourse whatever. Without something of that confidence, which can rest on no other foundation than

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that of habitual veracity, man could feel no complacency in man. horse, a dog, a sheep, a tree, a stone, or any thing, which was not positively inimical, would be a more acceptable companion than one of his own species. He could depend on no benefit from his presence; he would have much reason to dread some machination against his life or comfort.

Admitting, however, that society could exist without habitual truth, how little of prosperity could we anticipate! There would be an eternal stagnation of mind; no intellectual improvement. The transactions and events of former ages would be unknown. The voice of

history would never be heard, or, if heard, would be nothing better than fable. If monuments were reared, or useful inventions produced, they might, or might not, survive the age that gave them being; but the names of their authors, however deserving of fame, could have no better record, than the memory of their short-lived neighbors. Under the benumbing influence of falsehood and distrust, indeed, it may be doubted whether the arts of printing or writing would ever have existed; whether there would have been any such thing as instruction; whether, in fact, the tongue itself, as an organ of speech, would not have fallen into disuse. In this state of things, every individual would be limited in his knowledge to his own immediate experience; to the facts, which have been presented to the scrutiny of his senses. In the extent of his knowledge, he would be inferior to the beasts and birds. These have a language intelligible to those of their own species, by which they communicate important information. The maternal hen, for instance, tells her chickens when a hawk is threatening; and, as she never lies, her little ones never disbelieve her, they never fail to profit by her admonitions.

If mutual truth and confidence be of such importance to the intellectual improvement of the world, it is equally essential to moral advancement. There is a natural and necessary connexion between the one and the other. It was said by Solomon, "A man of understanding is of an excellent spirit." Weak minds may indeed be affectionate, but so far as they are deficient of intelligence, they cannot be distinguished for those virtues of feeling or conduct, which belong to reasonable beings. To render any human virtue what it should be, it must be founded in principle, as well as feeling; it must be performed "with the spirit and with the understanding;" and, in a state of things, in which the understanding was barren, it could not be expected that the moral life would be fruitful. Besides, there is a repugnance between habitual falsehood and most of the virtues, which forbids the expectation of any thing noble or generous in one who indulges in this sordid vice.

Lying is generally, if not always, the offspring of a selfish spirit. If we attend to the occasions, on which it is manifested, we shall be satisfied of this. What is the object of the common cheat, who extols, beyond the bounds of truth, the articles he offers for sale or exchange? Is it not to put a paltry penny into his own pocket? Why does the false politician blazon his own merits, or those of his party, while he vilifies the highest worth, which may be opposed to him? It is the spirit of selfish meanness, and not of expansive patriotism, which dictates every word. In difficulties and embarrassments, why does any

one resort to falsehood as the means of escape, without considering whose character or happiness may be involved by the untruth? It is a want of moral courage, some may say; others may give it the harder name of cowardice. We say it is that meanness of soul, which is immutably selfish and ungenerous. If there be any thing, in which lying can be reconciled to a generous spirit, it is, perhaps, the enter tainment afforded to companions by fictitious stories, passed off for realities. Still, we have reason to doubt, whether this be an exception to the general principle. It remains to be proved, that those, who indulge themselves in such violations of truth, are actuated chiefly by regard to the happiness of others, and not to the gratification of their own vanity or desire of applause.

As falsehood is generally, if not always selfish and ignoble, inconsistent in its very nature with generosity or disinterested friendship, so it is nearly allied to every species of dishonesty, without the exception of theft itself. It is actual injustice to society and to individuals. Every lie is a wrong to every man, woman, and child, who has an interest in common language, and especially to those who are exposed to deception by it. As already observed, the birds and beasts expect truth and sincerity from their dams, who undertake to instruct them. The brutes require the same from man. In many an instance, the elephant, who has stretched forth his proboscis to receive the proffered biscuit, and been denied, has executed summary justice on the deceiver, by knocking him down. Children, too, as we have said, expect the truth, and nothing but the truth, from every one who speaks, till experience has taught them a different lesson. This expectation is the inspiration of nature. It is inspired by the God of nature, who at the same time gave the unalienable right of hearing and knowing the truth, whenever addressed in the language of men. Where the rights are of equal value, the infringement of one involves the same degree of injustice with that of the other; and he, who has proved himself dishonest in word, can give you no adequate proof that he will not defraud you in business, or secretly pilfer your property. The state of public opinion, or the operation of the laws, may bear unequally on vices of equal turpitude in themselves; and, from these considerations, the liar may be restrained from other vices, to which, as such, he must be strongly inclined. If, then, the habit of falsehood counteract the most express designs of nature; if it be reproved in man by the sincerity of brutes; if it tend to annihilate all the advantages to be derived from speech, and to put an eternal check on the mental and moral improvement of mankind; if it subvert that confidence, on which all mutual complacency must depend, and infuse into the heart that distrust, which must either drive man from man, or expose him to hostile attacks; if, in a word, it is apt to degrade the soul, to chill every generous emotion, to confound all distinctions of right and wrong, and prepare one for every species of meanness and dishonesty, it is certain we cannot keep too much aloof from such a vice. We should avoid it as we would a mortal infection. We should take heed to our words; weigh and measure them, by the standards of truth. Not only is the habit of deception to be avoided, but every instance. He, who utters a single lie, sins not only against society, but against himself,-against soul and body,-against his temporal

no less than his eternal interests. Of this sin it may be emphatically said, "There remaineth no place for repentance, though one seek it carefully with tears." A single lie, clearly detected, will do more to ruin the character, than a thousand truths will to repair it: it will render it suspicious for years, though every other word were punctiliously true. The irascible or peevish man may change his morose looks and petulant tones, to those which are agreeable and kind; the blasphemer may abstain from the abuse of God's name; the intemperate man may break off from his habits of indulgence; and the reformation of each, to a considerable degree, at least, will be immediately apparent; but, as the greatest liars tell a multitude of truths for one falsehood, what pledge of this kind can they give, that they will never falsify again? Their word will be of little avail. It has lost its value. Nothing but time, or costly sacrifices to the truth, freely made, will restore their claims to credit.

Some, perhaps, by way of objection, may ask, where is the rigor of this doctrine to end? or, who will escape condemnation? In what does the essence of a lie consist? and where the effect is the same, what is the difference between speaking and acting? Is every voluntary deception a virtual lie? These questions deserve an answer, though it may not be an easy thing to reconcile every difficulty with the doctrine laid down above, or to establish principles which will apply to every imaginable case.

To take up the preceding queries, then, in the order which may be most convenient, we would maintain that, where the design is the same, and the whole effect the same, there can be no moral difference between speaking a lie and acting a lie; in giving a false direction to a traveler, for instance, by a word, or by a motion of the hand. The essence of criminal falsehood is intentional or careless deception; and it is of little moment, how that deception is effected. Still, it is hard to follow this principle into all the extremes, to which it may be seen to lead. It is hard to say, that the countenance shall, in all circumstances, be a true index to the heart, expressing all the indifference or dislike, which, either justly or unjustly, we may feel to those with whom we meet, and, perhaps, are required to pass much of our time; that, when we enter the chamber of dangerous sickness, or become bearers of painful intelligence to persons of weak nerves, we should put no disguise on our own feelings. It would be cruel to forbid those who were threatened with destruction by a ruthless army, to make their escape by the stratagem of kindling fires, or leaving other tokens of their presence, which would keep the suspicions of the enemy quiet, till the peaceful object were effected. To remove the difficulty in part, we may observe, that where the object is the same, there is often a difference in the effect between words and actions. Words are the more appropriate indications of thought; the more usual means of affirming or denying; the last resort in all inquiries and assurances about matters of fact. We may be deceived by looks or motions; but the deception is neither so inevitable nor so great, because it is always considered, that the language of the countenance and the limbs is allowed by general consent to be somewhat ambiguous. A smile on the countenance, for example, may indicate complacency, or joy, or it may express nothing more than the habitual

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courtesy and benevolence, which are characteristic, at once, of the gentleman and the Christian.

It is usually said, there may be cases, in which it will be lawful for us to deceive by any means in our power; that a mortal foe, in particular, has no claims upon us for the truth, and that he is an exception to the general rule. If public wars be ever just, or, in other words, if, in any case, it can be right to slaughter the subjects of a hostile sovereign by hundreds and thousands, it must be right to effect the objects of war by stratagem or deceit. On the same principle, if it be right to take the life of a pirate, an assassin, or robber, in defence of ourselves or others, it cannot be wrong to save ourselves from such an assailant, by any act of deception; since it is à greater harm to kill a man, than it is or can be to give him erroneous views of any ordinary fact. Of the rectitude of public wars, however, we give no opinion further than this,-that very few of them are undertaken from such necessity, on either side, as alone would be a sufficient apology. As to private robbers and assassins, some have justified deception in regard to them, on the ground that they have outlawed themselves; that they have put themselves out of the pale of society; that they have renounced all privileges of civil life, excepting only that of a fair trial, on condition of arrest; and that, in other respects, they are hardly to be considered as human beings. It must be confessed, that the rights and obligations of truth have a principal, if not a sole regard to society, and that all, who voluntarily put themselves out of the social state, forfeit all rights of this kind. Still, there may be reason to doubt, whether it be expedient to treat these outlaws with rigid justice of this kind; whether the influence of it will, on the whole, be favorable to the peace of society, or the moral character of those by whom it is practised.

Dr. Paley has told us, "there are some falsehoods which are not lies;" or, in other words, which are not criminal. Among other instances, he mentions that of a servant denying his master; that of an advocate asserting his belief in the justice of his cause; and the falsehoods, which are told to madmen or insane persons, for their benefit. The reason he gives for the innocence of untruths like these, is, that there is no deception. Many have regretted, that an author, of Dr. Paley's deserved reputation, should have given these exceptions to the obligations of truth the sanction of his name. Is there no deception in the assertion of the advocate, when, against his own convictions, he declares his unwavering belief in the justice of his client's cause? Does he not expect, does he not wish to be believed by some of those who hear him? Why, then, does he make the assertion? Is it for the mere purpose of forming, or continuing the habit of uttering untruths? The fact, we believe, is, that where an advocate with a sober countenance declares himself convinced of what he does not, indeed, believe, he does it with the hope of beguil ing the man of plain common sense to favor the cause of his client; and this, undoubtedly, is a frequent effect. The like interrogatories might be urged with the gentleman or the lady, who gives the false orders to a servant, to say "not at home." If it is understood to mean nothing more nor less, than too unwell, or too much engaged to see company, why not use the words, which mean that, and nothing

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