Tuesday, April 28, 2020

On the Decay of the Art of Lying, by Mark Twain.



Delightful, and true. As expected of this legendary author!
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"Note that venerable proverb: Children and fools always speak the truth. The deduction is plain —adults and wise persons never speak it."
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"In a far country where I once lived the ladies used to go around paying calls, under the humane and kindly pretence of wanting to see each other; and when they returned home, they would cry out with a glad voice, saying, "We made sixteen calls and found fourteen of them out" —not meaning that they found out anything important against the fourteen—no, that was only a colloquial phrase to signify that they were not at home—and their manner of saying it expressed their lively satisfaction in that fact. Now their pretence of wanting to see the fourteen—and the other two whom they had been less lucky with—was that commonest and mildest form of lying which is sufficiently described as a deflection from the truth. Is it justifiable? Most certainly. It is beautiful, it is noble; for its object is, not to reap profit, but to convey a pleasure to the sixteen. The iron-souled truth-monger would plainly manifest, or even utter the fact that he didn't want to see those people—and he would be an ass, and inflict totally unnecessary pain. And next, those ladies in that far country—but never mind, they had a thousand pleasant ways of lying, that grew out of gentle impulses, and were a credit to their intelligence and an honor to their hearts. Let the particulars go."

The "far country" is in fact U.S. and the custom prevailed during the carriage era preceding automobiles and telephones. Dropping in unexpectedly was always a no no in West, but in Europe they sent a footman with a note taking cognizance so to speak; in U.S. with the pretense of equality that won't do, so ladies actually did a morning of rounds "calling" on a whole lot in town, which usually meant leaving one's card. One fixed a day a week for one's "At Home" hour when one would receive anyone calling, but of course, that meant anyone from the acceptable set. Rest, the butler dealt with, or the footman did.  
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"The men in that far country were liars, every one. Their mere howdy-do was a lie, because they didn't care how you did, except they were undertakers. To the ordinary inquirer you lied in return; for you made no conscientious diagnostic of your case, but answered at random, and usually missed it considerably. You lied to the undertaker, and said your health was failing—a wholly commendable lie, since it cost you nothing and pleased the other man. If a stranger called and interrupted you, you said with your hearty tongue, "I'm glad to see you," and said with your heartier soul, "I wish you were with the cannibals and it was dinner-time." When he went, you said regretfully, "Must you go?" and followed it with a "Call again;" but you did no harm, for you did not deceive anybody nor inflict any hurt, whereas the truth would have made you both unhappy."
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"An injurious lie is an uncommendable thing; and so, also, and in the same degree, is an injurious truth—a fact that is recognized by the law of libel."
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April 26, 2020 - April 28, 2020.
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