alike in nature and in man. He was the cause of the fall of man, the
tempter, the author of misery and death; he was eternal and uncreate as
Ormuzd was. But that, perhaps, was a corruption of the purer and older
Zoroastrian creed. With it, if Ahriman were eternal in the past, he
would not be eternal in the future. Somehow, somewhen, somewhere, in the
day when three prophets--the increasing light, the increasing truth, and
the existing truth--should arise and give to mankind the last three books
of the Zend-avesta, and convert all mankind to the pure creed, then evil
should be conquered, the creation become pure again, and Ahriman vanish
for ever; and, meanwhile, every good man was to fight valiantly for
Ormuzd, his true lord, against Ahriman and all his works.

Men who held such a creed, and could speak truth and draw the bow, what
might they not do when the hour and the man arrived? They were not a
_big_ nation. No; but they were a _great_ nation, even while they were
eating barley-bread and paying tribute to their conquerors the Medes, in
the sterile valleys of Farsistan.

And at last the hour and the man came. The story is half
legendary--differently told by different authors. Herodotus has one
tale, Xenophon another. The first, at least, had ample means of
information. Astyages is the old shah of the Median Empire, then at the
height of its seeming might and splendour and effeminacy. He has married
his daughter, the Princess Mandane, to Cambyses, seemingly a vassal-king
or prince of the pure Persian blood. One night the old man is troubled
with a dream. He sees a vine spring from his daughter, which overshadows
all Asia. He sends for the Magi to interpret; and they tell him that
Mandane will have a son who will reign in his stead. Having sons of his
own, and fearing for the succession, he sends for Mandane, and, when her
child is born, gives it to Harpagus, one of his courtiers, to be slain.