On the Decay of the Art of Lying
by Mark Twain
On the Decay of the Art of Lying
by Mark Twain
Observe, I do not mean to suggest that the _custom_ of lying has
suffered any decay or interruption–no, for the Lie, as a Virtue, A Principle,
is eternal; the Lie, as a recreation, a solace, a refuge in time of need, the
fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, man’s best and surest friend, is immortal, and
cannot perish from the earth while this club remains. My complaint simply
concerns the decay of the _art_ of lying. No high-minded man, no man of right
feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and slovenly lying of the present day
without grieving to see a noble art so prostituted. In this veteran presence I
naturally enter upon this theme with diffidence; it is like an old maid trying
to teach nursery matters to the mothers in Israel. It would not become to me
to criticise you, gentlemen–who are nearly all my elders–and my superiors,
in this thing–if I should here and there _seem_ to do it, I trust it will in
most cases be more in a spirit of admiration than fault-finding; indeed if
this finest of the fine arts had everywhere received the attention, the
encouragement, and conscientious practice and development which this club has
devoted to it, I should not need to utter this lament, or shred a single tear.
I do not say this to flatter: I say it in a spirit of just and appreciative
recognition. [It had been my intention, at this point, to mention names and
to give illustrative specimens, but indications observable about me admonished
me to beware of the particulars and confine myself to generalities.]
No fact is more firmly established than that lying is a necessity of our
circumstances–the deduction that it is then a Virtue goes without saying.
No virtue can reach its highest usefulness without careful and diligent
cultivation–therefore, it goes without saying that this one ought to be
taught in the public schools–even in the newspapers. What chance has the
ignorant uncultivated liar against the educated expert? What chance have I
against Mr. Per–against a lawyer? _Judicious_ lying is what the world needs.
I sometimes think it were even better and safer not to lie at all than to lie
injudiciously. An awkward, unscientific lie is often as ineffectual as the
truth.
Now let us see what the philosophers say. Note that venerable proverb:
Children and fools _always_ speak the truth. The deduction is plain–adults
and wise persons _never_speak it. Parkman, the historian, says, “The principle
of truth may itself be carried into an absurdity.” In another place in the same
chapters he says, “The saying is old that truth should not be spoken at all
times; and those whom a sick conscience worries into habitual violation of
the maxim are imbeciles and nuisances.” It is strong language, but true. None
of us could _live_ with an habitual truth-teller; but thank goodness none of
us has to. An habitual truth-teller is simply an impossible creature; he does
not exist; he never has existed. Of course there are people who _think_ they
never lie, but it is not so–and this ignorance is one of the very things that
shame our so-called civilization. Everybody lies–every day; every hour;
awake; asleep; in his dreams; in his joy; in his mourning; if he keeps his
tongue still, his hands, his feet, his eyes, his attitude, will convey
deception–and purposely. Even in sermons–but that is a platitude.
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