“What is truth?”

We hear much of people who are “too frank.”  These destroyers of the peace of mind of friend and foe alike pride themselves on the fact that they are “nothing if not candid,” and “always say just what they think.”  Be it understood, this is not truthfulness.  The utterance of unnecessary and unkind criticism, however honest, is impertinence, amounting to insolence.

When your “frank friend(?)” tells you that your gown does not fit, that you dress your hair in such an unbecoming manner, that your management of your household is not what it should be, she takes an unwarrantable liberty.  If traced back, the source of these remarks would be found in a large percentage of instances, in a disagreeable temper, captious humors, and a spirit that is anything but Christian.  One may be entirely truthful without bestowing gratuitous advice and admonition.

People differ widely in their notions of veracity, and few would endorse the technical definition with which this talk begins.  Is it because there is so much intentional falsehood, so much that is not in “exact accordance with that which is, has been, or shall be,” or that standards of veracity vary with individual disposition, and what may be classified as social climatic influences?  Is it true that in morals there is no stated, infallible and eternal gauge—­“the measure of a man—­that is, of an angel?”

If a lie is something told “with the intention to deceive,” as says the catechism, a nineteenth century Diogenes would have need to search in a crowd with an electric light in quest of a perfectly truthful man.

For our comfort and hope be it recorded that there are men and women who are uniformly veracious, and still courteous, who would not descend to falsehood or subterfuge, yet who are never guilty of the rudeness of making untactful speeches.

Were there more of such exceptions to the rule of inconsiderate, exaggerated and recklessly mendacious talk that wounds ear and heart, the “society lie” would be no more, and this flimsy excuse for falsehood would be voted an article too tenuous and threadbare for use.

Good people, so-called Christians, seldom appreciate what immense responsibility is theirs in setting the example of telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  Said an amiable woman to me a few days ago: 

“Mrs. Smith, who is a strict Sabbatarian, asked me yesterday if I had ever been to a Sunday reception or tea.  Now, while I do not generally approve of them, I do, once in a great while, attend one.  But, rather than shock her by acknowledging the offence I lied out of it.  It is the only course left for the well-bred in such circumstances.”

An hour later I saw her punish her child for denying that she had committed some piece of mischief of which she was guilty.  The mother’s excuse to herself probably was that the child told a lie, she, a “society fib.”  Perhaps the smaller sinner had no reputation for breeding to maintain.