“You’ve reconciled Madam Manovska to your coming home without her husband! I didn’t think it possible. Give me a lesson in diplomacy, will you?”
“Wait till I light my pipe. Now. First, you must know there are several kinds of lying, and you must learn which kinds are permissible––and otherwise.” With his pipe between his teeth, Larry stood, a mock gravity about his mouth, and a humorous twinkle in his eyes, while he looked down on Harry, and told off the lies on his fingers.
“First, there’s the fool’s lie––you’ll know it because there’s no purpose in it, and there’s the rogue’s lie,––and as we’re neither fools nor rogues we’ll class them both 300 as––otherwise; then there’s the lie of pride, and, as that goes along with the fool’s lie, we’ll throw it out with the––otherwise––and the coward’s lie also goes with the otherwise.” Larry shook his fingers as if he tossed the four lies off from their tips, and began again. “Now. Here’s the friend’s lie––a man risks his soul to save a friend––good––or to help him out of trouble––very well. And then there’s the lover’s lie, it’s what a lad tells his sweetheart––that goes along with what she tells him––and comes by way of nature––”
“Or you might class it along with your own blarney.”
“Let be, lad. I’m teaching you the diplomacy, now. Then there’s the lie of shame, and the lie of sorrow, wherein a man puts by, for his own loved one’s sake, or his self-respect, what’s better covered; that, too, comes by way of nature, even as a dog crawls away to die alone, and we’ll accept it. Now comes the lie of the man who would tell a good tale for the amusement of his friends; very well, the nature of man loves it, so we’ll count it in, and along with it comes a host of little lies like the sportsman’s lie and the traveler’s lie––they all help to make life merry, and the world can ill do without them. But now comes the lie of circumspection. You must learn to lie it without lying. See? It’s the lie of wisdom, and it’s a very subtle thing, and easily abused. If a man uses it for a selfish cause and merely to pervert the truth, it’s a black lie, and one of the very worst. Or he may use it in a good cause, and it’s fairly white. It must be used with discrimination. That’s the lie I used for the poor Madam down there.”
“But what did you say?”
“She says to me, ‘And where is my ’usband?’ I reply, 301 ‘Madam, your husband is in a very safe and secret place,’––and that is true enough––‘where his enemies will never find him,’––and for all we know that is also true. ‘But I cannot understand why he did not come to me. That is not like my ’usband.’ ‘No, Madam, it is not. But man must do what he must, and the way was too long and arduous for his strength; he could not take the long, weary climb.’ And no more could he, true enough. ‘No, Madam, you cannot go to him, nor he come to you, for the danger of the way and the wild beasts that are abroad looking for food.’ And what more true than that, for did not her daughter see one hunting for food?
“So she covers her face with her hand and rocks herself back and forth, and now, lad, here’s where the blarney comes in. It’s to tell her of the worth of her husband, and what a loss it would be to the world if he were to die on the trail, and what he would suffer if he thought she were unhappy, and then in the ardor of my speech comes the straight lie. I told her that he was writing the story of his life and that it was to be a great work which would bring about a tremendous revolution of justice and would bring confusion to his enemies, until at last she holds up her head proudly and speaks of his wonderful intellect and goodness. Then she says: ‘He cannot come to me, very good. He is not strong enough––no. I go to him to-morrow.’ Think of that, man! What I had to meet, and it was all to go over again. I would call it very circumspect lying and in a good cause, too, to comfort the poor soul. I told her of the snow, and how surely she would die by the way and make her husband very sad, he who was now happy in the writing of his book, and that to do so would break his heart and 302 cause his own death,––while to wait until spring in peace would be wiser, because she might then descend the mountain in perfect safety. So now she sits sewing and making things no man understands the use of. She showed me the blouse she has made for you. Now, that is the best medicine for her sick brain. They’re great women, these two. If we must have women about, we’re in luck to have women of their quality.”
“We are, indeed.”
“I saw the women who follow the road as it creeps across the plains. They’re pitiful to see. If these had been like them, we’d have been obliged to take them in just the same, but Lord be merciful to them, I’m glad they’re not on my mountain.” Larry shook his ponderous, grizzled head and turned again to his packages. “Since they love to sew, they may be making things for themselves next. Look you! Here is silk for gowns, for women love adornment, the best of them.”