consoling results, for charity
begins at home. One learns more examining one's own conscience than
dissecting and flaying others alive.
It may be objected that since detraction deals with secret sins, if the
facts related are of public notoriety, there is no wrong in speaking of
them, for you cannot vilify one who is already vilified. This is true;
and then, again, it depends. First, these faults must be of public
notoriety. A judicial sentence may make them such, but the fact that
some, many, or a great many know and speak of them will not do it. The
public is everybody, or nearly everybody. Do not take your friends for
the public, when they are only a fraction thereof. If you do you will
find out oftener than it is pleasant that your sins of detraction are
sins of slander; for rumors are very frequently based on nothing more
substantial than lies or distorted and exaggerated facts set afloat by
a calumniator.
Even when a person has justly forfeited, and publicly, the
consideration of his fellowmen, and it is not, therefore, injurious to
his character to speak of his evil ways, justice may not be offended,
but charity may be, and grievously. It is a sin, an uncharity, to harp
on one's faults in a spirit of spite, or with the cruel desire to
maintain his dishonor; to leave no stone unturned in order to
thoroughly blacken his name. In doing this you sin against charity,
because you do something you would not wish to have done unto you.
Justice itself would be violated if, even in the event of the facts
related being notorious, you speak of them to people who ignore them
and are not likely ever to come to a knowledge of them.
If you add, after telling all you know about a poor devil, that he did
penance and repaired his sin, you must not imagine that such atonement
will rehabilitate him in the minds of all. Men are more severe and
unforgiving than God. Grace may be recovered, but reputation is a thing
which, once lost, is usually lost for good. Something of the infamy
sticks; tears and good works will not, cannot wash it away. He,
therefore, who banks too much on human magnanimity is apt to err; and
his erring constitutes a fault.
"But I confided the secret to but one person; and that one a dear
friend, who promised to keep it." Yes, but the injured party has a
right to the estimation of that one person, and his injury consists
precisely in being deprived of it. Besides, you accuse yourself openly.
Either what yo
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