is averted by a statement to the audience that one
of the actors has fallen ill, and the performance must
be ended. In such cases it is foolish to talk
of the possibility of evasion; it is direct misstatement
that is necessary to prevent the great evil that knowledge,
or even suspicion of the truth, might entail.
Truthfulness under such circumstances, or even the
taking of a chance by attempting to effect deception
without literal untruth, would be brutal and inexcusable.
As Saleeby puts it, “When the choice is between
being a liar or a brute, only brutal people can tell
the truth or hesitate to lie — and that right
roundly.[Footnote: Ethics, p. 103.] 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”
[Footnote: 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.]
(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 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 naive 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