Exquisite fiddlestick's end, Mr.Master! Do you mean for to go for to tell us that the relations between young gentlemen and their schoolmasters are entirely frank and cordial; that the lad is familiar with the man who can have him flogged; never shirks his exercise; never gets other boys to do his verses; never does other boys' verses; never breaks bounds; never tells fibs--I mean the fibs permitted by scholastic honor? Did I know of a boy who pretended to such a character, I would forbid my scapegraces to keep company with him.Did I know a schoolmaster who pretended to believe in the existence of many hundred such boys in one school at one time, Iwould set that man down as a baby in knowledge of the world."Who was making that noise?" "I don't know, sir."--And he knows it was the boy next him in school."Who was climbing over that wall?" "Idon't know, sir."--And it is in the speaker's own trousers, very likely, the glass bottle-tops have left their cruel scars.And so with servants."Who ate up the three pigeons which went down in the pigeon-pie at breakfast this morning?" "O dear me! sir, it was John, who went away last month!"--or, "I think it was Miss Mary's canary-bird, which got out of the cage, and is so fond of pigeons, it never can have enough of them." Yes, it WAS the canary-bird; and Eliza saw it; and Eliza is ready to vow she did.These statements are not true; but please don't call them lies.This is not lying;this is voting with your party.You MUST back your own side.The servants'-hall stands by the servants'-hall against the dining-room.
The schoolboys don't tell tales of each other.They agree not to choose to know who has made the noise, who has broken the window, who has eaten up the pigeons, who has picked all the plovers'-eggs out of the aspic, how it is that liqueur brandy of Gledstane's is in such porous glass bottles---and so forth.Suppose Brutus had a footman, who came and told him that the butler drank the Curacoa, which of these servants would you dismiss?--the butler, perhaps, but the footman certainly.
No.If your plate and glass are beautifully bright, your bell quickly answered, and Thomas ready, neat, and good-humored, you are not to expect absolute truth from him.The very obsequiousness and perfection of his service prevents truth.He may be ever so unwell in mind or body, and he must go through his service--hand the shining plate, replenish the spotless glass, lay the glittering fork--never laugh when you yourself or your guests joke--be profoundly attentive, and yet look utterly impassive--exchange a few hurried curses at the door with that unseen slavey who ministers without, and with you be perfectly calm and polite.If you are ill, he will come twenty times in an hour to your bell; or leave the girl of his heart--his mother, who is going to America--his dearest friend, who has come to say farewell--his lunch, and his glass of beer just freshly poured out--any or all of these, if the door-bell rings, or the master calls out "THOMAS" from the hall.Do you suppose you can expect absolute candor from a man whom you may order to powder his hair? As between the Rev.Henry Holyshade and his pupil, the idea of entire unreserve is utter bosh; so the truth as between you and Jeames or Thomas, or Mary the housemaid, or Betty the cook, is relative, and not to be demanded on one side or the other.Why, respectful civility is itself a lie, which poor Jeames often has to utter or perform to many a swaggering vulgarian, who should black Jeames's boots, did Jeames wear them and not shoes.
There is your little Tom, just ten, ordering the great, large, quiet, orderly young man about--shrieking calls for hot water--bullying Jeames because the boots are not varnished enough, or ordering him to go to the stables, and ask Jenkins why the deuce Tomkins hasn't brought his pony round--or what you will.There is mamma rapping the knuckles of Pincot the lady's-maid, and little Miss scolding Martha, who waits up five pair of stairs in the nursery.Little Miss, Tommy, papa, mamma, you all expect from Martha, from Pincot, from Jenkins, from Jeames, obsequious civility and willing service.My dear, good people, you can't have truth too.Suppose you ask for your newspaper, and Jeames says, "I'm reading it, and jest beg not to be disturbed;" or suppose you ask for a can of water, and he remarks, "You great, big, 'ulking fellar, ain't you big enough to bring it hup yoursulf?" what would your feelings be? Now, if you made similar proposals or requests to Mr.
Jones next door, this is the kind of answer Jones would give you.
You get truth habitually from equals only; so my good Mr.Holyshade, don't talk to me about the habitual candor of the young Etonian of high birth, or I have my own opinion of YOUR candor or discernment when you do.No.Tom Bowling is the soul of honor and has been true to Black-eyed Syousan since the last time they parted at Wapping Old Stairs; but do you suppose Tom is perfectly frank, familiar, and aboveboard in his conversation with Admiral Nelson, K.C.B.? There are secrets, prevarications, fibs, if you will, between Tom and the Admiral--between your crew and THEIR captain.Iknow I hire a worthy, clean, agreeable, and conscientious male or female hypocrite, at so many guineas a year, to do so and so for me.
Were he other than hypocrite I would send him about his business.
Don't let my displeasure be too fierce with him for a fib or two on his own account.
