LIARS.

Thames Star, Volume VII, Issue 2511, 23 January 1877, Page 2

LIARS.

(pEOM THE WOEtD.)

We have grown, so mealy-mouthed in our modern manner of talking thai; people rarely use the plain Saxon epithet which denotes one who is untruthful. That milk-and-water euphemism which nowadays tones down all vigorous speech forbids our calling a man a liar except in extreme cases. The expression is looked upon as an ultimatum, a casus belli; the word that is instantly followed by a blow. So we have invented a dozen circumlocuto y phrases to express the simple spade. > Thus, the child tells fibs ; women say more than their prayers; grown men are given to .drawing the long-bow; a politician who seeks to baffle an opponent by misleading statements speaks diplomatically; a friend who skilfully manipulates his facts to serve his purpose is merely a master of finesse, or one who sails rather close to the wind. Are we, therefore, to infer that lying is really on the decrease? Would the Psalmist if he lived in these days withdraw his dictum that all nr r ea are liars? Falsehood has become more rampant than ever. There are, of course, liars and liars; all are "not equally to blame. Perhaps from the moral standpoint there is little to choose between the suppressio veri and the suggestio falsi ; yet we mete out different measures to the wilful falsifier who weaves snares and sets pitfalls, and to the simple liar de circonstav.ee who drifts into misstatements as he. does into nipping sherry or dozing after dinner in his chair. We smile good humouredly at the latter; but the other we cut dead, or worse, if worse there be. Liars of the other class are merely Babadils or modern Munchausens, who hurt nobody so much as ! themselves. The world is full of them; of such we all number one or more among our acquaintances, some man who, according to his own accounts, has d le more, seen more, read more, than {.iy other man since Adam sinned. We rre never angry with him even when we have found him out; to state that So-and-so is •' such a liar," is by no means considered • a damnatory criticism. Why ara we so considerate P Possibly because this harmless feeble Ananias sometimes affords us distinct amusement; more probably because we do not dare, any of us, to cast the first stone. We are all more pr less in the same boat. We are surrounded with so much falsehood, we mix so much with men to whom lying is a habit, that we are carried away, and lie also only too readily. The fact is, the world encourages lying. Often enough a person who is outspoken, and who gives us fearlessly the white and naked truth, is branded as an ass. Falsehood is so much more agreeable, so much more artistic and symmetrical. Everything is improved by embroidery and color. Strictly veracious history interpreted by painstaking students is far less attractive than romance. Any raconteur who adheres strictly to fact, and tells us a plain unvarnished tale, is thought duller

than ditch-water ; while the more unscrupulous gossip, who fills up gaps by the detail he invents, is certain always of dozens of dinners, and an admiring audience wherever he goes. And we hate so much tc hear the truth about ourselves. We may know in our own heart of hearts tbat all our geese are geese, and yet we do not contradict those who call them swan 3. We are secretly certain that our singing would silence screech-owls; yet we smirk with satisfaction when our friends compare us to Mario or Lablache in his best days. ; The daubs we perpetrate on canvas are no j good enough for the cellars of Burlington House; nevertheless we are grateful for the compassionate critics who assure us they should have, been hung upon the line. We like to be complimented on our commercial astuteness, and yet, if the truth were known, we are at the moment committed and bound hand and foot to some bubble bank or speculative scheme which will some day ruin our reputation and our fortune together. . . . ,

There a-'e people whose whole lives are lies from beginning to end—men who by dint of chicanery gain high, places they are really unfitted to fill—who yet manage to hoodwink possible detractors, who suck , the brains of their subordinates and strut before the audience in borrowed plumes; others who, by dint of persistent hypocrisy, have put on the robe of godliness, which cloaks conduct systematically immoral and unscrupulous. There are liars . in every walk of life—such is the statesman who for power and the loaves and fishes of office pawns his convictions and forswears his early creed*—such the law-" yer who lures on his client to litigation, even when there is but a shadowy foundation for a case—such the doctor who fobs our fees_ and prescribes bread pills for imaginary disease. Are women to be exonerj&ted from the charge of lying ? Guile and'dece:t are with many a woman her natural arms—weapons to which she instinctively has recourse, and which the training and education of her life have too often taught her to wield with consummate skill and effect. For wounding by half-st-iement, or staving off Judgment by? wily evasion of the exact andunembroidered truth, qpmmend us to %P woman's art. What is the seemingly in* nocent debutante who accepts with pretty . blushing encouragement the attentions of an excellent but repulsive partiii what, her mother, that intriguing chaperone, who with brazen effrontery denies to the poor "detrimental" that he has, touched. her daughter's heart; what' is the white - veiled bride': who; throwing ' truth and constancy to the winds, " jilts her first love, and swears to honor -, and obey a man she secretly loathes; what is the wife who stoops to maintain questionable relations with gallants whose very devotion is a stain upon the spotless purity of her marriage vows ? Of a truth it is. a lying life, and we who live in it cannot hor>e to shake off easily an attribute we have inherited like original sin; our only consolation is that the oFence is one of degree. We may perhaps take credit for the fact that untruthfulness of the basest, blackest sort is not a very prevailing vice in the land. It is not too much to claim for an English gentleman that he finds his face rather hot if be be forced io prevaricate, and that our . highest praise for a loyal friend is the. phrase, "He never told a lie." Yet the - moment of trial comes to all; our code of ; Tionor indeed lays down tbat we mastsometimes wander from thel truth—wo are supposed to lie to save a female reputation, we must lie sooner than betray the secret of a friend or slate. But for one occasion upon which the s-'n is almost imperative there are thousands on which there can be do excuse. And yet it is only an angel that could hope to keep his wings immaculate and pu*e.