Talkers Part 21

4. _He is generally a coward in respect to men, and a contemner of G.o.d._--"To say a man lieth," says Montaigne, "is to say that he is audacious towards G.o.d, and a coward towards men." "Whosoever lies,"

observes Hopkins, "doth it out of a base and sordid fear lest some evil and inconvenience should come unto him by declaring the truth." "A liar," remarks Bacon, "is brave towards G.o.d and a coward towards man.

For a lie faces G.o.d, and shrinks from man." "The meanness of lying,"

says Gilpin, "arises from the cowardice which it implies. We dare not boldly and n.o.bly speak the truth, but have recourse to low subterfuges, which always show a sordid and disingenuous mind. Hence it is that in the fas.h.i.+onable world the word _liar_ is always considered as a term of peculiar reproach."

"Lie not, but let thy heart be true to G.o.d, Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both.

Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod; The stormy working soul spits lies and froth."

Again, says the poet:--

"Dishonour waits on perfidy. The villain Should blush to think a falsehood; 'tis the crime Of cowards."

5. _As a rule he is the most condemned and shunned of all the talkers in society._--Those who have any self-respect avoid him. The n.o.ble and virtuous stand aloof from his company. He is regarded as a dangerous person, possessed of deadly weapons, subject to a deadly malady. He is not depended upon at any time, or in anything. Even his veracity is suspected, if not discredited altogether; so that when he does speak the truth there is little or no confidence reposed in what he says _as_ the truth. Aristotle, being asked what a man would gain by telling a lie, answered, "Not to be credited when he shall tell the truth."

The poet, in a dialogue with Vice, thus represents the liar or falsehood as the greatest fiend on earth. Vice inquires of Falsehood:--

"And, secret one! what hast thou done To compare, in thy tumid pride, with me?

_I_, whose career, through the blasted year, Has been tracked by despair and agony."

To which Falsehood replies:--

"What have I done? I have torn the robe From Baby Truth's unsheltered form, And round the desolated globe Borne safely the bewildering charm: My tyrant-slaves to a dungeon floor Have bound the fearless innocent, And streams of fertilizing gore Flow from her bosom's hideous rent, Which this unfailing dagger gave....

I dread that blood!--no more--this day Is ours, though her eternal ray Must s.h.i.+ne upon our grave.

Yet know, proud Vice, had I not given To thee the robe I stole from heaven, Thy shape of ugliness and fear Had never gained admission here."

In view of the enormity of this sin, the language and feeling of the good is, "I hate and abhor lying;" "A righteous man hateth lying;" "The remnant of Israel shall not do iniquity nor speak lies, neither shall a deceitful tongue be found in their mouth." They pray against the sin, "Remove from me the way of lying;" "Remove far from me vanity and lies."

They do not respect those who are guilty of the sin. "Blessed is the man that maketh the Lord his trust, and respecteth not the proud, nor such as turn aside to lies;" "He that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house; he that telleth lies shall not tarry in my sight." It would be well if all professing Christians would act upon this resolution of the Psalmist, and exclude all liars from their presence.

6. _He is generally characterized for other evils as a.s.sociated and produced by his lying._--The degeneracy of moral principle which can impose upon the credulity of mankind by the invention and statement of what is known to be untrue is capable of other acts of vice and immorality. Hence the prophet Hosea, in speaking to the Israelites of the judgments that should come upon them, declares that "the Lord hath a controversy with the inhabitants of the land, because there is NO TRUTH, nor mercy, nor knowledge of G.o.d in the land. By swearing, and lying, and killing, and stealing, and committing adultery they break out, and blood toucheth blood." Here we see the brood of evils a.s.sociated with lying. "A lying tongue," says Solomon, "hateth those that are afflicted by it." It not only afflicts, but hates them whom it does afflict--hates them under the calamity of which itself has been the cause. "A liar," he again says, "giveth ear to a naughty tongue." He listens to lies, to slander, to cursing, to profanity, and the various evils const.i.tuting a "naughty tongue."

7. _He often tries to conceal his previous sins by lying, and to conceal his lying by subsequent sins._--Ananias and Sapphira sinned in keeping back part of the price, and then they lied in endeavouring to cover that (Acts v.). Cain sinned in murdering his brother, and then lied in the attempt to hide it (Gen. iv. 9). Jacob did wrong in appearing before his father as Esau, and sustained his wrong by a lie. The brethren of Joseph transgressed in dealing unkindly with him and selling him into the hands of the Ishmaelites, and then to conceal the matter they deceived their father by lying (Gen. x.x.xvii. 31, 32). Samson committed sin by throwing himself into the power of Delilah, and sought his deliverance from her hands by telling lies (Judges xvi. 10).

And so the liar has to resort to additional sin in defending himself against his lying. One lie begets another lie to sustain it. Sometimes it calls forth an oath, a blasphemy, a curse, perjury, and other kinds of sin. Gehazi lied to Naaman concerning his master, and then to clear himself before his master he lied a second time (2 Kings v. 22, 25).

Peter also lied in saying that he knew not Jesus, and to sustain himself in it, when discovered, he cursed and swore, and thus doubled his crime (Matt. xxvi. 72).

"One lie," says Owen, "must be thatched with another, or it will soon rain through." "He who tells a lie," remarks Pope, "is not sensible how great a task he undertakes, for he must be forced to invent twenty more to maintain that one." "When one lie becomes due," says Thackeray, "you must forge another to take up the old acceptance; and so the stock of your lies in circulation inevitably multiplies, and the danger of detection increases every day."

It is astounding to a serious mind to observe how some persons can run on in the repet.i.tion of falsehoods; and who, upon an apprehension of discovery, will yet go on paying the price of what they have told by continuing to lie on. It is also humiliating to one's humanity to notice oftentimes the cunning, subtlety, paltry tricks resorted to in order to cover over the lies which are exposed to detection.

"This is the curse of every evil deed,-- That, propagating still, it brings forth evil."

8. _He is almost invariably discovered in his sin._--"The lip of truth,"

says the wise man, "shall be established for ever; but a lying tongue is but for a moment" (Prov. xii. 19). The moral government of G.o.d is maintained by truth. It is engaged in the promulgation and defence of truth. He who lies is a violator of its sacred laws, and exposes himself to the searching and grasping power of justice. The agents of the justice of G.o.d are numerous, and by one or the other the rebel is sure to be discovered and brought to public exposure in his criminality.

There is a general love to truth and hatred to lies among mankind, and the belief or suspicion of a lie leads at once to the use of means to find it out, in order to know the truth and expose the falsehood. Truth known as truth is never questioned. It remains inviolable and eternal.

It stands as the admiration of the intelligent universe. But falsehood is transient in its power and reign, and exists while it does exist as the object of execration to all the rational beings of heaven and earth.

9. _He cannot go unpunished._--He is punished in the remorse and condemnation of his conscience; in the abhorrence of him in the judgment of every respectable member of society; in the continual fear he has of shameful discovery. None can trust him. It is against the moral instinct of human nature to confide in a liar. Children cannot trust their parents when they know they lie. Even the ties of kindred, however close, cannot create mutual a.s.surance in the face of habitual falsehood.

Fidelity in every authority visits lying with punishment. Children are punished by parents; servants by their masters. A liar is such a mischievous member of the community that the almost unanimous feeling towards him is one of condemnation.

The Scriptures contain most fearful words expressive of the retribution which shall come upon the liar:--

"I will be a swift witness against false-swearers, and them that fear not Me, saith the Lord of hosts." "Thou shalt destroy them that speak leasing: the Lord will abhor the b.l.o.o.d.y and deceitful man." "What shall be given unto, or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue? Sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper." "A false witness shall not be unpunished, and he that speaketh lies shall not escape." "But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and wh.o.r.emongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and ALL LIARS, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death." "And there shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination or maketh A LIE."

"For without are dogs, and sorcerers, and wh.o.r.emongers, and murderers, and idolaters, AND WHOSOEVER LOVETH AND MAKETH A LIE."

In ill.u.s.tration of some of the preceding sentiments, I give the following:--

An American lawyer says: "On entering college, I promised my mother, whom I loved as I have never loved another mortal, that while there I would not taste of intoxicating liquor, nor play at cards, or other games of hazard, nor borrow money. And I never did, and never have since. I have lived well-nigh sixty years, yet have never learned to tell a king from a knave among cards, nor Hock from Burgundy among wines, nor have I ever asked for the loan of a single dollar. Thanks to my mother!--loving, careful, anxious for me, but not over-careful nor over-anxious. How could she be, when I was so weak and ignorant of my weakness, feeling myself strong because my strength was untried, and such a life as human life is, such temptations as beset the young, before me.

"She did not ask me to promise not to swear. She would not wrong me by the thought that I _could_ swear; and she was right. I could not. How can any one so insult the Holy, the All-Excellent, our Father, and best friend? Nor did she ask me not to lie. She thought I _could_ not _lie_.

Had she thought otherwise, my promise would have been of little value to her. And I also thought I could not. I despised lying as a weakness, cowardice, meanness, the concentration of baseness. I felt strong enough, manly enough, to accomplish my end without it. I had no fear of facing my own acts. Why should I shrink before my fellows for anything I had done? Lie to them to conceal myself or my acts? Nay, I would not have faults to be concealed. My own character, my own life, was more to me than the esteem of others. I would do nothing fit to have hidden, or which I might wish to hide. I thought I could not lie, and I could not for myself.

"During my second college year there was a great deal of card-playing among the students. The Faculty tried to prevent it, but found it difficult. Though I never played, my chum did, and sometimes others played with him in our room when I was present. I not unfrequently saw the students at cards. One of the professors questioned me upon the subject.

"'Have you ever seen any card-playing among the students?'

"'No, sir,' I answered firmly, determined not to expose my fellows. 'A lie of honour!' I said to myself. What coupling of contradictions! As well talk of 'honest theft!' 'innocent sin!'

"'You are ignorant of any card-playing in the college building, Brown?'

"'Yes, sir,'

"'We can believe _you_, Brown.'

"I was ready to sink. Nothing else could have smitten, stung me, like that. Such confidence, and I so unworthy of it. Still I held back the truth.

"But I left the professor's room another person than I entered it--guilty, humbled, wretched. That one false word had spoiled everything for me. All my past manliness was shadowed by it. My ease of mind had left me, my self-respect was gone. I felt uncertain, unsafe. I stood upon a lie, trembling, tottering. How soon might I not fail? I was right in feeling unsafe. It is always unsafe to lie. My feet were sliding beneath me. One of the students had lost a quarter's allowance in play, and applied to his father for a fresh remittance, stating his loss. His father had made complaint to the college Faculty, and there was an investigation of the facts. The money had been staked and lost in my room. I was present.

"'Was Brown there?' asked the professor.

"'He was.'

"The professor's eyes rested on me. Where was my honour _then_--my manliness? and where the trust reposed in me? Did any say, 'We can believe _you_, Brown,' after that? Did any excuse my lie--any talk of my honour then? Not one. They said, 'We didn't think it of you, Brown!' 'I didn't suppose Brown would lie for his right hand!'

"It was enough to kill me. But there was no help. I had to bear my sin and shame as best I might, and try to outlive it. No one trusted me as before. No one could, for who knew whether my integrity might not again fail? I could not trust myself until I had obtained strength as well as pardon from G.o.d, nor even then, until I had many times been tried and tempted, and found His strength sufficient for me."

Bessie was a little girl, not very old. One morning, as she stood before the gla.s.s pinning a large rose upon her bosom, her mother called her to take care of the baby a few minutes. Now Bessie wanted just then to go out into the garden to play, so she went very unwillingly.

Her mother bade her sit down in her little chair, placed the baby carefully in her lap, and left the room. The red rose instantly attracted the little one's attention, and quick as thought the chubby little fingers grasped it, and before Bessie could say, "What are you about?" the rose was crushed and scattered. Bessie was so angry that she struck the baby a hard blow. The baby, like all other babies, screamed right l.u.s.tily. The mother, hearing the uproar, ran to see what was the matter. Bessie, to save herself from punishment, told her mother that her little brother Ben, who was playing in the room, had struck the baby as hard as he could.

Ben, although he declared his innocence, received the punishment which Bessie so richly deserved. Bessie went to school soon after, but she did not feel happy.