A rose in Mashhad, northeastern Iran. Strictly speaking, the sharp-pointed growth on the stem is not a thorn but a prickle. But don’t tell William Shakespeare.
A PRINCE commanded the execution of a captive who was brought before him; when the captive, having no hope of life, told the prince that he disgraced his throne.
The prince, not understanding him, turned to one of his ministers and asked him what he had said. ‘He says,’ replied the minister, quoting a passage from the Koran, ‘God loves those who subdue their passions, forgive injuries, and do good to his creatures.’ The prince pitied the poor captive, and countermanded the orders for the execution.
Another minister, who owed a spite to the one who first spoke, said, ‘Nothing but truth should be spoken by such persons as we in the presence of the prince; the captive spoke abusively and insolently, and you have not interpreted his words truly.’ The prince frowned and said, ‘His false interpretation pleases me more than thy true one, because his was given for a good, and thine for a malignant, purpose; and wise men have said that ‘a peace-making lie is better than a factious or anger-exciting truth.’*
For example, “Use not to lie, for that is unhonest: speak not every truth, for that is unneedful; yes, in time and place, a harmless lie is a great deal better than a hurtful truth.” Roger Ascham (1515-1568), in a letter to his brother-in-law, Mr C. Howe, who was about to take up a position with the Earl of Warwick.
Précis
In an ancient Persian tale, a condemned criminal berated his princely judge; but a kindly minister, asked to repeat the man’s words, substituted a quotation from the Koran, and the poor wretch was acquitted. Another minister protested that it was not the truth, hoping to win favour; but the wise prince preferred a merciful lie to a cruel truth. (59 / 60 words)
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