WHAT is truth? said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer. Certainly there be, that delight in giddiness, and count it a bondage to fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in acting. And though the sects of philosophers of that kind be gone, yet there remain certain discoursing wits, which are of the same veins, though there be not so much blood in them, as was in those of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty and labor, which men take in finding out of truth, nor again, that when it is found, it imposeth upon men's thoughts, that doth bring lies in favor; but a natural, though corrupt love, of the lie itself. One of the later school of the Grecians, examineth the matter, and is at a stand, to think what should be in it, that men should love lies; where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets, nor for advantage, as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I cannot tell; this same truth, is a naked, and open day-light, that doth not show the masks, and mummeries, and triumphs, of the world, half so stately and daintily as candle-lights. Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to the price of a diamond, or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied lights. A mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds, vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds, of a number of men, poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?
“What is truth?” Pilate asked jokingly, and would not wait for an answer. Certainly, some people delight in uncertainty and consider a fixed belief a form of slavery. They seek freedom in thinking as well as in acting. Though those schools of philosophy have vanished, some talkative thinkers still share their spirit. But they have less vigor than the ancient philosophers did. Lies find favor not only because discovering truth takes effort and hard work. Nor is it only because truth, once found, limits what people can think. There is also a natural, though corrupt, love of lying itself. A philosopher from one of the later Greek schools examines this and finds himself puzzled. Why should people love lies when they offer neither pleasure, as in poetry, nor profit, as in trade? Why love a lie for its own sake? I cannot tell. Truth is like bare, open daylight. It makes the world’s masks, masquerades, and pageants look far less splendid and elegant than candlelight does. Truth may perhaps command the price of a pearl, which looks best by daylight. But it will not command the price of a diamond or ruby, which looks best in varied lighting. A little falsehood mixed in always adds pleasure. Can anyone doubt what would happen if people’s minds were stripped of empty opinions, flattering hopes, false judgments, and wishful imaginings? Would this not leave many people’s minds poor, shrunken things, full of sadness and discontent, and displeasing to themselves?
One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy vinum daemonum, because it fireth the imagination; and yet, it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in, and settleth in it, that doth the hurt; such as we spake of before. But howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved judgments, and affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making, or wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the light of the sense; the last, was the light of reason; and his sabbath work ever since, is the illumination of his Spirit. First he breathed light, upon the face of the matter or chaos; then he breathed light, into the face of man; and still he breatheth and inspireth light, into the face of his chosen. The poet, that beautified the sect, that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well: It is a pleasure, to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon the sea; a pleasure, to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle, and the adventures thereof below: but no pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of truth (a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always clear and serene), and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below; so always that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling, or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.
One of the Church Fathers sternly called poetry “the wine of demons” because it fires the imagination. Yet it does so with only the shadow of a lie. It is not the lie that passes through the mind that does harm. It is the lie that sinks in and settles there, like those we spoke of before. However corrupt human judgment and feelings may be in these matters, truth alone judges itself. It teaches that seeking truth is like courting it, knowing truth is being in its presence, and believing truth is enjoying it. These are the highest good of human nature. God’s first creation, in the six days of creation, was light for the senses. His last was the light of reason. His Sabbath work ever since has been to enlighten through his Spirit. First he breathed light over the face of matter, or chaos. Then he breathed light into the face of humanity. He still breathes and pours light into the faces of his chosen people. The poet who brought beauty to a philosophical school otherwise inferior to the others nevertheless expressed this excellently. It is a pleasure to stand on shore and watch ships tossed at sea. It is a pleasure to stand at a castle window and watch a battle and its changing fortunes below. But no pleasure compares with standing on the high ground of truth. This is a hill no higher ground overlooks, where the air is always clear and calm. From there, one sees the errors, wanderings, mists, and storms in the valley below. But this view must always inspire pity, not arrogance or pride. Certainly, it is heaven on earth to have a mind guided by love, resting in God’s providence, and revolving around truth.
To pass from theological, and philosophical truth, to the truth of civil business; it will be acknowledged, even by those that practise it not, that clear, and round dealing, is the honor of man's nature; and that mixture of falsehoods, is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these winding, and crooked courses, are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely upon the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no vice, that doth so cover a man with shame, as to be found false and perfidious. And therefore Montaigne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason, why the word of the lie should be such a disgrace, and such an odious charge? Saith he, If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much to say, as that he is brave towards God, and a coward towards men. For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of falsehood, and breach of faith, cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it shall be the last peal, to call the judgments of God upon the generations of men; it being foretold, that when Christ cometh, he shall not find faith upon the earth.
Let us turn from theological and philosophical truth to truth in public affairs. Even those who do not practice it admit that honest, straightforward dealing honors human nature. Mixing in falsehood is like adding cheaper metals to gold and silver coins. It may make the metal easier to work, but it lowers its value. Such devious, crooked ways are the ways of the serpent. It crawls low on its belly instead of walking on feet. No vice brings a person so much shame as being exposed as dishonest and treacherous. Montaigne makes a fine point when he asks why being called a liar is so disgraceful and hateful an accusation. He says that, properly understood, calling someone a liar means calling them bold toward God and cowardly toward other people. For a lie defies God but shrinks before people. Surely nothing could express the wickedness of falsehood and broken promises more strongly than this. They will sound the final bell that calls down God's judgment on the generations of humanity. For it is foretold that when Christ comes, he will find no faith on earth.