the one hand, it has been claimed that a lie is by its very nature
irreconcilable with the eternal principles of justice and right; and,
on the other hand, it has been asserted that great emergencies may
necessitate a departure from all ordinary rules of human conduct, and
that therefore there may be, in an emergency, such a thing as the "lie
of necessity."

It is not so easy to consider fairly a question like this in the hour
when vital personal interests pivot on the decision, as it is in a
season of rest and safety; yet, if in a time of extremest peril the
unvarying duty of truthfulness shines clearly through an atmosphere of
sore temptation, that light may be accepted as diviner because of its
very power to penetrate clouds and to dispel darkness. Being forced to
consider, in an emergency, the possible justification of the so-called
"lie of necessity," I was brought to a settlement of that question in
my own mind, and have since been led to an honest endeavor to bring
others to a like settlement of it. Hence this monograph.

In the summer of 1863 I was a prisoner of war in Columbia, South
Carolina. The Federal prisoners were confined in the common jail,
under military guard, and with no parole binding them not to attempt
an escape. They were subject to the ordinary laws of war. Their
captors were responsible for their detention in imprisonment, and it
was their duty to escape from captivity, and to return to the army of
the government to which they owed allegiance, if they could do so by
any right means. No obligations were on them toward their captors,
save those which are binding at all times, even when a state of war
suspends such social duties as are merely conventional.

Only he who has been a prisoner of war in a Southern prison in