From this time forward the efforts of Viswamitra are directed to the inducing of Harischandra to say that he is not in debt to his adversary; but in every trial Harischandra refuses to tell a lie.  His only son dies in the desert.  He and his wife are in poverty and sorrow; while all the time he is told that his kingdom and his treasures shall be restored to him, if he will tell only one lie.  At last his wife is condemned to death on a false accusation, and he is appointed, by the sovereign of the land where she and he have been sold as slaves, to be her executioner.  She calls on him to do his duty, and strike off her head.  Just then Viswamitra appears to him, saying:  “Wicked man, spare her!  Tell a lie even now, and be restored to your former state!”

Harischandra’s answer is:  “Even though thou didst offer to me the throne of Indra, I would not tell a lie.”  And to his wife, Chandravati, he says encouragingly:  “This keen saber will do its duty.  Thou dead, thy husband dies too—­this selfsame sword shall pierce my breast....  Yes, let all men perish, let all gods cease to exist, let the stars that shine above grow dim, let all seas be dried up, let all mountains be leveled to the ground, let wars rage, blood flow in streams, let millions of millions of Harischandras be thus persecuted; yet let truth be maintained, let truth ride victorious over all, let truth be the light,—­truth alone the lasting solace of mortals and immortals.”

As Harischandra strikes at the neck of Chandravati, “the sword, instead of harming her, is transformed into a necklace of pearls, which winds itself around her.  The gods of heaven, all sages, and all kings, appear suddenly to the view of Harischandra,” and Siva, the first of the gods, commends him for his fidelity to truth, and tells him that his dead son shall be brought again to life, and his kingdom and treasures and honors shall be restored to him.  And thus the story of Harischandra stands as a rebuke to the Christian philosopher who could suppose that God, or the gods, would co-work with a man who acted on the supposition that there is such an anomaly in the universe as “a lie of necessity.”

The old Scandinavian heroes were valiant in war, but they held that a lie was not justifiable under any pressure of an emergency.  Their Valhalla heaven was the home of those who had fought bravely; but there was no place for liars in it.  A fine illustration of their conception of the unvarying duty of truthfulness is given in the saga of Fridthjof.  Fridthjof, heroic son of Thorstein, loved Ingeborg, daughter of his father’s friend, King Bele.  Ingeborg’s brother Helge, successor to his father’s throne, opposed the match, and shut her up within the sacred enclosure of the god Balder.  Fridthjof ventured within the forbidden ground, in order to pledge to her his manly troth.  The lovers were pure in purpose and in act, but, if their interview were known, they would both be permanently harmed in reputation