2. Appendix II
OF THE MODE OF EXCLUDING VISITORS
This principle respecting the observation of truth in the common intercourses
of life cannot perhaps be better illustrated than from the familiar and trivial
case, as it is commonly supposed, of a master directing his servant to say
he is not at home. No question of morality can be foreign to the science
of politics; nor will those few pages of the present work be found perhaps
the least valuable which, here, and in other places,[1] are dedicated to
the refutation of those errors in private individuals that, by their extensive
sway, have perverted the foundation of moral and political justice. Not to
mention that such speculations may afford an amusement and relief in the
midst of discussions of a more comprehensive and abstracted character.
Let us then, according to the well known axiom of morality, put ourselves
in the place of the man upon whom this ungracious task is imposed. Is there
any of us that would be contented to perform it in person, and to say that
our father or our brother was not at home, when they were really in the house?
Should we not feel contaminated with the plebeian lie? Can we then be justified
in requiring that from another which we should shrink from, as an act of
dishonour, in ourselves?
Whatever sophistry we may employ to excuse our proceeding, certain it
is that the servant understands the lesson we teach him, to be a lie. It
is accompanied by all the retinue of falsehood. Before it can be skilfully
practised, he must be no mean proficient in hypocrisy. By the easy impudence
with which it is uttered, he best answers the purpose of his master, or in
other words the purpose of deceit. By the same means, he stifles the upbraidings
of his own mind, and conceals the shame imposed on him. Before this can be
sufficiently done, he must have discarded all frankness of speech, and all
ingenuousness of countenance. Some visitors are so ill-bred, as not immediately
to take this answer without further examination; and some, unknown to the
servant, are upon such unceremonious terms with his master as to think themselves
entitled to treat the denial with incredulous contempt. Upon either of these
suppositions, the insolence and prevarication of the servant must be increased,
or his confusion rendered more glaring and despicable. When he has learned
this degenerate lesson upon one subject, who will undertake that it shall
produce no unfavourable effects upon his general conduct? But it is said,
"This lie is necessary, and the intercourse of human society cannot
be carried on without it. My friend may visit me at a time when it would
be exceedingly inconvenient to me to see him; and this practice affords a
fortunate alternative between submitting to have my occupations at the mercy
of any accidental visitor on the one hand, and offending him with a rude
denial on the other."
But let us ask, from what cause it is that truth, upon the simplest occasion,
should be so offensive to our delicacy, and falsehood so requisite to soothe
us? He must, in reality, be the weakest of mankind who should take umbrage
at a plain answer in this case, when he was informed of the moral considerations
that induced me to employ it. In fact, we are conscious of caprice in our
mode of deciding respecting our visitors, and are willing to shelter our
folly under this sort of irresponsibility. Would it be worthy of regret if
we compelled ourselves to part with this refuge for our imbecility, and to
do nothing which we were ashamed to be known to do?
A further argument which has been urged in favour of this disingenuous
practice is that "there is no other way by which we can free ourselves
from disagreeable acquaintance." Thus it is one of the perpetual effects
of polished society to persuade us that we are incapable of doing the most
trivial office for ourselves. It would be as reasonable to tell me "that
it is a matter of indispensable necessity to have a valet to put on my stockings."
If there be, in the list of our acquaintance, any person whom we particularly
dislike, it usually happens that it is for some moral fault that we perceive
or think we perceive in him. Why should he be kept in ignorance of our opinion
respecting him, and prevented from the opportunity either of amendment or
vindication? If he be too wise or too foolish, too virtuous or too vicious
for us, why should he not be ingenuously told of his mistake in his intended
kindness to us, rather than suffered to find it out by six months enquiry
from our servant? If we practised no deceit, if we assumed no atom of cordiality
and esteem we did not feel, we should be little pestered with these buzzing
intruders. But one species of falsehood involves us in another; and he that
pleads for these lying answers to our visitors in reality pleads the cause
of a cowardice that dares not deny to vice the distinction and kindness that
are due to virtue.
[ [1]]
Vide Appendices to Book II, Chap. II.