Drawn by
Faucher-Gudin,
coin of King
Huvishka,
Once incarnate, a Fravasliis devotes himself to the well-being of the mortal with whom he is associated; and when once more released from the flesh, he continues the struggle against evil with an energy whose efficacy is proportionate to the virtue and purity displayed in life by the mortal to whom he has been temporarily joined. The last six days of the year are dedicated to the Fravashis. They leave their heavenly abodes at this time to visit the spots which were their earthly dwelling-places, and they wander through the villages inquiring, “Who wishes to hire us? Who will offer us a sacrifice? Who will make us their own, welcome us, and receive us with plenteous offerings of food and raiment, with a prayer which bestows sanctity on him who offers it?” And if they find a man to hearken to their request, they bless him: “May his house be blessed with herds of oxen and troops of men, a swift horse and a strongly built chariot, a man who knoweth how to pray to God, a chieftain in the council who may ever offer us sacrifices with a hand filled with food and raiment, with a prayer which bestows sanctity on him who offers it!” Ahura-mazdâ created the universe, not by the work of his hands, but by the magic of his word, and he desired to create it entirely free from defects. His creation, however, can only exist by the free play and equilibrium of opposing forces, to which he gives activity: the incompatibility of tendency displayed by these forces, and their alternations of growth and decay, inspired the Iranians with the idea that they were the result of two contradictory principles, the one beneficent and good, the other adverse to everything emanating from the former.*
* Spiegel, who at first considered that the Iranian dualism
was derived from polytheism, and was a preliminary stage in
the development of monotheism, held afterwards that a rigid
monotheism had preceded this dualism. The classical writers,
who knew Zoroastrianism at the height of its glory, never
suggested that the two principles might be derived from a
superior principle, nor that they were subject to such a
principle. The Iranian books themselves nowhere definitely
affirm that there existed a single principle distinct from
the two opposing principles.
Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a
photograph taken from the
original bas-relief in glazed
tiles in the Louvre.
In opposition to the god of light, they necessarily formed the idea of a god of darkness, the god of the underworld, who presides over death, Angrô-mainyus. The two opposing principles reigned at first, each in his own domain, as rivals, but not as irreconcilable adversaries: they were considered as in fixed opposition to each other, and as having coexisted for ages without coming into actual conflict, separated as they were by the intervening void. As long as the principle of good was content to remain shut up inactive in his barren glory, the principle of evil slumbered unconscious in a darkness that knew no beginning; but when at last “the spirit who giveth increase”—Spentô-mainyus—determined to manifest himself, the first throes of his vivifying activity roused from inertia the spirit of destruction and of pain, Angrô-mainyus. The heaven was not yet in existence, nor the waters, nor the earth, nor ox, nor fire, nor man, nor demons, nor brute beasts, nor any living thing, when the evil spirit hurled himself upon the light to quench it for ever, but Ahura-mazdâ had already called forth the ministers of his will—Amêsha-spentas, Yazatas, Fravashis—and he recited the prayer of twenty-one words in which all the elements of morality are summed up, the Ahuna-vairya: “The will of the Lord is the rule of good. Let the gifts of Vohu-manô be bestowed on the works accomplished, at this moment, for Mazda. He makes Ahura to reign, he who protects the poor.” The effect of this prayer was irresistible: “When Ahura had pronounced the first part of the formula, Zânak Mînoî, the spirit of destruction, bowed himself with terror; at the second part he fell upon his knees; and at the third and last he felt himself powerless to hurt the creatures of Ahura-mazdâ.” *
* Theopompus was already aware of this alternation of good
and bad periods. According to the tradition enshrined in the
first chapter of the Bundehesh, it was the result of a sort
of compact agreed upon at the beginning by Ahura-mazdâ and
Angrô-mainyus. Ahura-mazdâ, rearing to be overcome if he
entered upon the struggle immediately, but sure of final
victory if he could gain time, proposed to his adversary a
truce of nine thousand years, at the expiration of which the
battle should begin. As soon as the compact was made, Angrô-
mainyus realised that he had been tricked into taking a
false step, but it was not till after three thousand years
that he decided to break the truce and open the conflict.