attempts to salve one’s own conscience by making one’s statements true “in a sense,” and yet gain the advantage of an out-and- out lie, are miserable make-shifts and utterly demoralizing.  There is “not much in a truthfulness which is only phrase-deep.”  Whether we deceive others or no, we cannot afford to deceive ourselves; we should never deviate a hair’s breadth from the truth without acknowledging the deviation to ourselves as a necessary but unfortunate evil.  A man may say nothing but what is true, and yet intentionally give a wrong impression; “truth in spirit, not truth to the letter, is the true veracity.”  “A lie may be told by a truth, or a truth conveyed by a lie.”  “A man may have sat in a room for hours and not opened his teeth, and yet come out of that room a disloyal friend or a vile calumniator."[Footnote:  Stevenson, Virginibus Puerisque, chap.  IV.] If a man lies deliberately and regretfully, for an end that seems to him to require it, he may be making a mistake; but he is escaping the worst danger of lying.  He is not corrupting his soul, blurring his vision of the line between sincerity and insincerity, and numbing his conscience so that presently he will lie as a matter of course — and be universally distrusted.  All of this is very clear, and sufficiently explains our ideal of veracity.  But it is not enough for moralists to dwell upon the general necessity of truthfulness; the problems connected therewith arise when one asks, Are there not legitimate or even obligatory exceptions to the rule?  Except for a few theorists who are more attracted by unity and simplicity than by the concrete complexities of life, practically all agree that there are occasions when lying is necessary, occasions when the confidence of men would not be destroyed by a lie because of the clearly exceptional nature of the case.  Can we lay down any useful rules in the matter, indicating what types of cases require untruthfulness?  What exceptions are allowable to the duty of truthfulness?  Love undoubtedly sometimes requires, and oftener still excuses, a lie.

(1) There are the trite cases where by misinformation a prospective murderer is misled and his potential victim saved;[Footnote:  Cf. the somewhat similar situation in Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables (Fantine, last chapter) where Soeur Simplice lies to Javert about Jean Valjean.  Hugo applauds the lie perhaps too extravagantly ("O sainte fille! que ce mensonge vous soit compte dans le paradis!"); but few probably would condemn it.  Another interesting case is that of a French girl in the days of the Commune.  On her way to execution her fiance tried to interfere; but she, realizing that if he were known to be her lover he would likewise be executed, looked coldly upon him and said, “Sir, I never knew you!”] where a sick man, who would have less chance of recovery if he realized his dangerous condition, is cheered and carried over the critical point by loving deception; where a theater catches fire and a disastrous panic