Part 3

XLIX. The honour of the Judges also requires this should be done, because the vulgar, when they see mulcts laid on with a heavy hand, and do not perceive the money arising from them applied to purposes of public benefit, such as the building of bridges, the repairing of highways, the making of aqueducts, and in the aid of hospitals for the poor, &c. they easily persuade themselves, that the Judges are interested in the imposition of fines; and although Judges may sometimes be indiscreet and rash, it is necessary to rescue them from those gross imputations, when it can conveniently be done.

L. When delinquents have no families, and the consequences of depriving them of their money are only felt by themselves, no punishments appear to me more rational and proper than pecuniary ones, and especially when the nature of the offence does not demand a more severe chastisement. In the first place, it is not a sanguinary punishment, and is more consonant to the feelings of compassion, than one that is tinged with blood, both with respect to him who pronounces the sentence, and him to whom it is applied. Secondly, despoiling an evil-disposed man of his money, is disarming him of vice, as it deprives him of the weapons with which he was enabled to do mischief. Thirdly, if the money is expended for the good of the public, the community will derive a double advantage from this mode of punishment, as somewhat of temporal benefit will be added by it, to a well-adapted and exemplary application of justice.

LI. I now, my Son, have told you my sentiments on all that has occurred to me as most essential in judicial administration. If, upon seeing me so scrupulously tenacious on the side of justice, it shall appear to you that I mean to erase clemency out of the catalogue of virtues, you are mistaken. I know the excellence of this virtue, and even lament, that in our ministry there is but small scope for exercising it. I venerate this divine quality, which, on account of its elevated and sublime nature, I contemplate, as superior to the sphere of our jurisdiction. I call it divine, by reason of its active power to remit penalties decreed by the laws, which is an authority or prerogative almost peculiarly belonging, and proper to God alone. He, as Supreme Master, can pardon all sorts of crimes; Kings as next to him in sovereignty, can pardon some; but the hands of their inferior ministers are tied in all cases; for he who is subject to the laws, can never be vested with a power to arbitrate and dispense forgivenesses.

LII. It is true, that where the law is obscure, we have authority to interpret and construe it in a benign sense; but in this construction, we should not lose sight of the exigence of the public safety, nor the dictates of natural equity: and acting in this manner, is not clemency but justice. We may also in virtue of the principle which is called Epeikeyan, that allows of a wise and moderate interpretation of the law, lessen, or even in many cases omit, the penalties which the law decrees. This also is not lenity but justice, because upon such occasions, we are rather obliged to conform to the intention of the legislature, than the letter of the law; and such cases frequently occur in small offences, because, upon an examination of the nature of these things, it often appears to the eye of Prudence, that greater inconveniences would attend the punishing, than the tolerating them. Following the letter of the penal law, without admitting any exceptions, even in those cases where the legislature could not intend, nor prudence suppose it was meant to bind, is what is called justice in extreme, or _summum jus_, which with great reason is termed extreme injustice; therefore, acting contrary to the letter of the law in these instances, is likewise not clemency, but justice. Aristotle, who very well understood the nature of things appertaining to Ethics, judges the Epiekeyan, to be a principle, or part of justice. From all that has been said, it may be inferred, that requesting favour or compassion of a Judge, or supposing him capable of shewing any in the discharge of his duty, is an absurdity, and calling things by improper names; for if he acts according to the law, reasonably and rightly understood, he does justice; if contrary to it, he does injustice. In what are called _casos omissos_, and when the law is obscure, there are general rules for interpreting it and supplying the defects, which interpretations have the force of laws; so that there is no middle path between justice and injustice, for a Judge to walk in; because there are no means, by which he can act conformable to law, and contrary to law. God keep you.

ON THE IMPUNITY OF LYING.

SECT. I.

I. Two common errors present themselves to me with respect to the subject-matter of this discourse, the one theoretical, the other practical. The theoretical is derived from lying among men being reputed as infamous, or as a vice nearly bordering upon infamy. Let us admit, for argument’s sake, the divisions the theologians make of a lie, into officious, jocose, and pernicious. Let us admit also, that a pernicious lie is reputed in the common opinion as it deserves to be reputed, and that it is treated with all possible abhorrence, so that those who are noted for telling lies to the prejudice of their neighbours, are generally considered as the pests of society; but notwithstanding all this, my remarks will be principally confined to officious and jocose lies; that is, to such as are not intended to injure a third person, but are only told to entertain, or because they may be of some utility to a man’s self, or to some other person. I must also premise, that I mean to treat this point more as a politician, than as a moral theologian. The theologians estimate officious, and jocose lies, as venal sins; nor should I or any one else in a moral light, represent them blacker. But if viewed in a political light, my sentiment is, that the common opinion is excessively favourable and indulgent to this species of vice.

II. And what is the reason of this excessive indulgence? Why the reason is, because this sort of lie is not considered as an affront offered to any man. The being noted for an officious or jocose liar, does not take from any man the honour, which in other respects is thought due to him. A gentleman, let him tell as many of these sort of lies as he will, is still looked upon as a gentleman; a nobleman also, notwithstanding his being remarked for this vice, is considered as a nobleman, and a prince as a prince. But this appears to me repugnant to all reason. Lying is infamous, bad, and vile; and a liar is unworthy of human society; he is an impostor, who traiterously avails himself of the good faith of other men, in order to deceive them. The most precious intercourse among men, is that of a frank and reciprocal communication of their souls; with which, they in conversation lay open and disclose to each other, the affections of their wills, the sentiments of their mind, and all that is treasured up in their memories. Now what is a liar, but a solemn circumventor of this inestimable commerce? what, but a deceiver, who imposes on us delusions for realities? what but a circulator of false money, who passes the iron of a lie for the gold of truth? and finally, what can there be found in this man, that should excuse him from being discarded and rejected by all others, as a nuisance to company, a vile contaminator of conversation, and as a detestable falsifier of all intelligence and information?

SECT. II.

III. I cannot help remarking a monstrous contradiction, that is very frequent in this matter. If a man of any rank or figure in the world, is told to his face that he lies, he considers himself as very seriously injured, and according to the cruel laws of human honour, is esteemed as having put up with a very gross affront, if he does not demand of the man who told him so, a very sanguinary satisfaction; but I would be glad to know, how telling a man he lies, can be a very serious injury, if lying is not esteemed a very serious defect in him who is addicted to it; or how a man can be considered as affronted, because he is told he lies, if the action of lying is not scandalous or unworthy. The degree of reproach annexed to a vice, is generally estimated according to the light in which that vice is considered by the world at large. If the vice is not held to be such a one, as tarnishes a man’s honour, his honour will not be deemed wounded by the commission of it; and it may be said of a man in such a case, that his honour is not injured. This being a notorious fact, the inference I would draw from the before-mentioned observation, is, that the frequency of lying, lessens in the generality of mankind, the abhorrence, which natural reason left to itself, has of this vice; but notwithstanding this custom, it has not diminished so thoroughly, but that there still remains in the soul of man, a clear conviction, that lying is a baseness.

IV. I am confirmed in this opinion, by the observation, that a man’s denying what he has said, is looked upon as an opprobrium to him. And why is this? why because it amounts to a confession that he had before told a lie. The opprobrium cannot lie in the truth of what he now confesses; and therefore must consist in the lie which he told before. Confessing that he has lied, is a mark of sincerity, and no one need blush for having been sincere; therefore all the ignominy must be annexed to the lie. This, I say, makes it manifest to me, that their native sentiment of this matter is not so obscured in mankind, but that it represents a lie to them as a most unworthy and a vile thing.

SECT. III.

V. The practical error in this matter, is derived from a lie’s going unpunished, and from the laws not having prescribed any punishment for liars. Why is there no bridle to curb the propensity men have to deceive one another? and why should a man be allowed to lie to what amount he pleases at free cost? Although men are not contented with enjoying a total indemnity in this case, but frequently glory in what they have done, and go on to insult those they have imposed on, and to treat the sincerity of other men as imprudence; is not this an abominable offence, and such a one as deserves to be punished?

VI. I may be told, that human laws do not attend to deterring by the fear of punishment, people from committing any other crimes, except such as are prejudicial to the public, or injurious to a third person; and that officious or jocose lies, which are those we are discoursing of at present, hurt no body, for if they had been found to be injurious, they would before this, have been classed among, and deemed as pernicious offences.

VII. Against this remark, solid as it may appear, I have two very notable replies to make. The first is, that although every officious or jocose lie considered by itself, is injurious to nobody; still, the frequency and impunity with which they are told, have a pernicious effect on the public; for they deprive the generality of mankind of a very valuable benefit. To make my meaning more clearly understood, I must beg every man to contemplate the inconveniencies that would arise from a doubt or distrust, whether whatever is told us be true or false; which distrust is unavoidable, and founded on prudence, if we advert to the frequency with which people lie. Upon hearing any piece of intelligence, in which our wishes, or our conveniencies are interested, we remain in a state of perplexity, whether to believe or disbelieve it; and this perplexity is generally attended with a very disagreeable agitation of the mind, that sets a man at variance as it were with himself, and causes him to halt between two opinions, and to remain in a disagreeable state of suspence, whether to reject as false, or assent to the intelligence he hears as true. Those to whom the rumour that is propagated may be serviceable, either with regard to their communicating it, or on account of the use it may be of to illustrate any thing they have been writing, and are about to publish, are set on the tenters by reason of this uncertainty. They would give any thing to ascertain the reality of a curious event, that was applicable to, and would tend to embellish the subject they had been writing upon, but cannot take a step towards informing themselves, without meeting with a stumbling block in their way. Some affirm the truth of the thing, others deny it; here they tell the story in one way, and there they relate it in another; and all this while, the pen of the author is obliged to stand still, and to continue for a long time in a disagreeable and violent state of suspence.

VIII. But although the perplexity that may attend our doubting whether we shall give our assent to what we hear, may be productive of these evils, the mischief that would result from our giving easy faith and credit to all we are told, would be much greater; for if we reflect, we shall find, that the altercations, disputes, and disturbances which arise in conversation, are produced for the most part by easy credulity. Different people, hear different accounts of the same thing, and because each believed what he heard; they afterwards altercate furiously, each persisting, that the account he had heard of the matter was the true one. Reflect how many people have made themselves ridiculous, by believing what they should have rejected as fabulous. Reflect also, that human society, which is the sweetest boon of life, or which would be so if mankind were to behave to each other with truth and candour, is made ungrateful and disgusting at every turn, by the distrust which is occasioned, in consequence of our experiencing how much people are addicted to lie.

IX. In order to comprehend how great a good we are deprived of by this distrust, let us figure to ourselves a republic, although I fear there never was such a one in the world, where either from the generous influence of their soil and climate, men were more noble-minded; or from the fear of a lie being punished with great severity, all the individuals who compose it, were strict observers of the truth; I say admitting this, my imagination represents to me, that such a community would be a sort of Heaven upon earth. What brotherly love would there prevail in it! and how sweet and savoury would the confidence between man and man be, and how grateful the satisfaction, with which they talked and listened to each other, free from the suspicion of not being believed, or the fear of being deceived! There we should survey at every step, the most pleasing spectacle the world can afford, that of a man’s opening the whole theatre of his soul to another. I do not think that Heaven adorned with all its splendor, or the spring embellished with all its flowers, could furnish a more delightful picture to the eyes of man, than that which would be presented to human curiosity, by the exposure of a variety of sentiments, affections, and passions, of those with whom we converse. In such a society, all men would enjoy a peaceable tranquillity of mind, without the dread, that by means of political arts, a traitor should impose himself upon them for a friend; that hypocrisy should usurp an unjust veneration; that applause should be tainted with the venom of flattery; that advice should be insincere, and calculated to promote the interest of him who gave it; or that correction should be the child of anger, and not the offspring of zeal. But unhappy for us, how distant are we from enjoying the blessings of such happy citizens! for we scarce are allowed an instant of relaxation, from the fears, inquietudes, and suspicions, that continually afflict us, and which are produced, by the experience we have, of the little sincerity there is to be met with in the world. Consider now, whether the frequency of lying, does not rob us of a great blessing, or to speak more properly, of many inestimable blessings.

SECT. IV.

X. The second reply I have to make to the before-named observation, is, that it very frequently happens, that those lies which are only looked upon as officious and jocose, are attended with pernicious consequences. What does it signify, that he who tells a lie did not do it with an intention to injure any one, if in reality the mischief follows? The emperor Theodosius the second, presented the empress Eudoxia with an apple of uncommon magnitude; and she afterwards gave it to Paulinus a learned and discreet man, whose conversation she was very fond of, and with whom, her correspondence was perfectly innocent. Paulinus, ignorant of the hand by which the apple was brought to the Empress, shewed it to the Emperor, and begged him to accept of it; the Emperor, recollecting that it was the same apple he had given the Empress, took an occasion to ask Eudoxia by surprize, what she had done with the apple? The question coming upon her unawares, and she, apprehensive the Emperor might be displeased with her for parting with the apple, answered she had eaten it. This, in the intention of Eudoxia, was a lie purely officious; but was attended with a most pernicious consequence, as it was the occasion of Paulinus being put to death; for Theodosius, suspecting the commerce between him and the Empress not to be very chaste, ordered him to be dispatched.

XI. Caligula having recalled from banishment, one who had been sentenced to that punishment by his predecessor, asked him how he employed his time while he was banished; and he, to recommend himself to the good graces of the Emperor, answered, that he employed the greatest part of it in praying to the gods for the death of Tiberius; because that would make way for his ascending the throne. What lie to all appearance could be more innocent than this? Yet in its consequences, it was very pernicious, for Caligula, taking it into his head, that those he had banished would occupy themselves in the same way, ordered them all to be put to death.

XII. I could give more examples of the same sort; but am aware, that it may be said in answer to them, that these are unforeseen accidents; but they notwithstanding, are the evil accidental consequences of lies, which although the person who tells them cannot foresee, are not unworthy the attention of the legislature; and of their taking measures to prevent the mischiefs arising from them, by assigning some species of punishment to all kinds of lies whatever. At least, the motive of preventing these accidental mischiefs, should operate jointly with the reasons we have already given, to induce the legislature, to fall upon some mode of punishment to curb the vice of lying.

SECT. V.

XIII. But the principal mischiefs that are produced by lies, which are called jocose and officious, do not only happen by accident, but such lies have in their own nature, a tendency to bring on those mischiefs. Of this sort are all flattering lies. Of the many apophthegms we meet with, that have been severe upon liars, there is no one seems to me to be better pointed, than that of Bion one of the seven wise men of Greece. He being one day asked, what animal he esteemed the most pernicious? answered, that to the world at large it was a tyrant, and in private life, a flatterer. For so it is, that flattery always, or nearly always, is pernicious to the person to whom it is addressed. The same man, who if the incense of unmerited applause was not offered to him, would be gentle, prudent, and modest, would by the application of it, be corrupted to such a degree, as to become proud, fierce, intolerable, and ridiculous. It is not one man only, that a flattering lie may be the undoing of, but it is also capable of ruining a whole kingdom; and this is a fatality that has often happened. Many princes, who have had a portion of the taint of ambition in their compositions, if there had not been those about them, who fomented this evil tendency of their minds, would have led happy and peaceable lives, but upon being persuaded by a flatterer, that their greatest glory consisted in adding new dominions to their crown, have become bloody scourges, both to their own subjects, and those of their neighbours.

XIV. The great Louis the Fourteenth, was without doubt, endued with excellent qualities; and was blessed with a sufficient understanding, to distinguish in what the most solid glory of a king consisted, and to be convinced, that it consisted in making his subjects happy. Notwithstanding which, through the whole of his dominions, the bulk of his people were oppressed, and groaned under the intolerable weight of the taxes, he found it necessary to load on them, in order to support the vast expences of the many wars he engaged in; to which grievance, might be added the lamentation and grief that was produced, by the loss of the infinite quantity of French blood that had deluged the fields in his quarrels. From whence did all this mischief proceed? Why from the venomous influence of poisonous flatterers, who persuaded him, that his greatest glory consisted in extending his dominions by his arms, and in making himself dreaded by all the neighbouring powers. They not only persuaded him to this, but even intimated to him, that these were the most effectual means, to render his own kingdom happy and flourishing. A flattering poet carried his servile complaisance so far, as to sing in his ear, that by pursuing this conduct, he would not only make his own people happy, but would make those so likewise, whom he conquered; and that they would hug the chains, with which he bound the little liberty they ever possessed; and what was beyond all the rest, this fulsome poet, went so far as to assert, that his desire of making them happy, was his only motive for bringing them under his yoke.

_Il regne par amour dans les Villes conquises,_ _Et ne fait des sujets que pour les rendre heureux._

In the idea of this poet, desolating his own country by excessive contributions, carrying fire and sword into the territories of his neighbours, and sacrificing men by tens of thousands on the altars of Mars, is the most effectual way to make people happy; and that it is the great glory of a monarch, to be the pest of his own dominions, and those of all his neighbours. To these extravagant lengths has flattery been carried, and such are the unhappy effects it has produced.

XV. A flattering lie in private life, is not capable of doing so much mischief, if we consider it as standing by itself; but the mischief is infinitely extensive, that results from many of those lies put together; as the use of them is so general, that their numbers are nearly infinite. A learned modern French author, says, that the practice of the world, is made up of people’s occupying themselves continually in circulating false complaisance. Mankind depend reciprocally upon each other; and the poor man not only flatters the rich one, but the rich one flatters the poor one in his turn. The poor man courts the rich one, because he has need of his contributions; and the rich one endeavours to conciliate himself with the poor man, because he cannot subsist without the aid of his labour. The money they all go to market with, to gain and purchase the hearts of each other, is coined from the bullion of flattery; which is the falsest money that can be circulated, because in consequence of trafficking with it in this vile commerce, all sides are cheated.

SECT. VI.