he succeeds in his effort, he shall secure to himself all the merit of the good deeds of Harischandra; but if Harischandra cannot be induced to lie, Viswamitra must add half his merit to that of Harischandra.[1]

[Footnote 1: Arichandra, the Martyr of Truth: A Tamil Drama translated into English by Muta Coomâra Swâmy; cited in Conway's Demonology and Devil Lore, II., 35-43.]

First, Viswamitra induces Harischandra to become the custodian of a fabulous treasure, with a promise to deliver it up when called for. Then he brings him into such a strait that he must give up to Viswamitra all his possessions, including that treasure and his kingdom, in order to retain his personal virtue. After this, Viswamitra demands the return by Harischandra of the gold which has been already surrendered, claiming that its surrender was not according to the contract. In this emergency Viswamitra suggests, that if Harischandra will only deny that he owes this amount to his enemy the debt shall at once be canceled. "Such a declaration I can never make," says Harischandra. "I owe thee the gold, and pay it I will."

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 and in standing. A rumor of their secret meeting was circulated, and Fridthjof was summoned before the council of heroes to answer to the charge. If ever a lie were justifiable, it would seem to be when a pure woman's honor was at stake, and when a hero's happiness and power for good pivoted on it. Fridthjof tells to Ingeborg the story of his sore temptation when, in the presence of the council, Helge challenges his course.

"'Say, Fridthjof, Balder's peace hast thou not broken, Not seen my sister in his house while Day Concealed himself, abashed, before your meeting? Speak! yea or nay!' Then echoed from the ring Of crowded warriors, 'Say but nay, say nay! Thy simple word we'll trust; we'll court for thee,—Thou, Thorstein's son, art good as any king's. Say nay! say nay! and thine is Ingeborg!' 'The happiness,' I answered, 'of my life On one word hangs; but fear not therefore, Helge! I would not lie to gain the joys of Valhal, Much less this earth's delights. I've seen thy sister, Have spoken with her in the temple's night, But have not therefore broken Balder's peace!' More none would hear. A murmur of deep horror The diet traversed; they who nearest stood Drew back, as I had with the plague been smitten."[1]

[Footnote 1: Anderson's Viking Tales of the North, p. 223.]

And so, because Fridthjof would not lie, he lost his bride and became a wanderer from his land, and Ingeborg became the wife of another; and this record is to this day told to the honor of Fridthjof, in accordance with the standard of the North in the matter of truth-telling.

In ancient Persia, the same high standard prevailed. Herodotus says of the Persians: "The most disgraceful thing in the world, they think, is to tell a lie; the next worse, to owe a debt; because, among other reasons, the debtor is obliged to tell lies."[1] "Their sons are carefully instructed, from their fifth to their twentieth year, in three things alone,—to ride, to draw the bow, and to speak the truth."[2] Here the one duty in the realm of morals is truth-telling. In the famous inscription of Darius, the son of Hystaspes, on the Rock of Behistun,[3] there are repeated references to lying as the chief of sins, and to the evil time when lying was introduced into Persia, and "the lie grew in the provinces, in Persia as well as in Media and in the other provinces." Darius claims to have had the help of "Ormuzd and the other gods that may exist," because he "was not wicked, nor a liar;" and he enjoins it on his successor to "punish severely him who is a liar or a rebel."

[Footnote 1: Rawlinson's Herodotus, Bk. I., § 139.]

[Footnote 2: Ibid., Bk. I., § 136.]

[Footnote 3: Sayce's Introduction to Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, pp. 120-137.]

The Zoroastrian designation of heaven was the "Home of Song;" while hell was known as the "Home of the Lie."[1] There was in the Zoroastrian thought only two rival principles in the universe, represented by Ormuzd and Ahriman, as the God of truth, and the father of lies; and the lie was ever and always an offspring of Ahriman, the evil principle: it could not emanate from or be consistent with the God of truth. The same idea was manifest in the designation of the subordinate divinities of the Zoroastrian religion. Mithra was the god of light, and as there is no concealment in the light, Mithra was also god of truth. A liar was the enemy of righteousness.[2]

[Footnote 1: Müller's Sacred Books of the East, XXXI., 184.]

[Footnote 2: Müller's Sacred Books of the East, XXIII., 119 f., 124 f., 128, 139. See reference to Jackson's paper on "the ancient Persians' abhorrence of falsehood, illustrated from