All religions are said to have deviated from their primitive simplicity and purity, as men advanced in knowledge and civilisation. This is true but in a restricted and distinctive sense, and may be explained, even without yielding to our habit of considering that which is more remote and less known as holier than that which is nearer and better examined. Thus, we may admit that the impres­sions made upon men in the first stage of expand­ing reason are stronger and more vivid, the less they are distracted by simultaneous and correlative associations; one great idea is enough to fill their whole mind, and admits of no rival, of no commix­ture with any thing else; curiosity, versatility, luxu­riancy of intellect are not yet known; constancy is a necessity in a small compass of ideas. We have already touched* upon the powerful effect which the early perception of the Divine produced upon man: but he soon circumscribed what was too vast for his comprehension in a perceptible object—heaven, sun, fire, to which he offered his adoration; he wanted a visible type or image of the invisible Divinity; but, his means of formation being at first very confined, he contented himself with the most simple representation: he had a symbol, an idol in a grove or cavern, but not yet a Pantheon. Simplicity may be a mere restriction to one object or to few objects; purity, nothing else but homogeneity in good or bad, true or false; we shall not confound them with rationality, which may subsist with mul­tiplicity and mixture. Thus, the adoration of one deified man, one great serpent, one huge stone, is by no means more rational than the worship of numerous generations of gods, the ingenious per­sonifications of multiform nature, ever acknowledged as the genuine offspring of the happy mar­riage between intellect and imagination. In the absence of arts and riches, worship is rude and des­titute of showy accessories. Afterwards, the development of the understanding widens the field of reasoning, the fertility of which may be attested more by the shoot of weeds than by the growth of fruits: error prevails over truth; the increase of manifold resources facilitates and prompts super­fetation of exterior religion. Besides, the impres­sions, by which the first legislator attached his fol­lowers to his doctrine, are effaced by time; the first traditions, obscured, confused, and altered; faith is weakened, and an opening made for change in belief, practice, and morals. A change, merely as such, is considered as a corruption by the adherents of the old creed. Finally, revolutions, interior and exterior, deteriorate or destroy religion and civi­lisation.

These reflexions, with the explanation previously given as to the various notions of which the religions in Asia were composed, will clearly show that, in the course of ages, a reform of astrolatry, pyrolatry, and idolatry, the branches of Sabæism and Mezdaism, became desirable; and Zardusht, or Zoroaster, appeared.

In the notes placed at the bottom of the pages containing Mohsan Fani's account of Zoroaster,* will be found some of the principal results of the investigations which have been made in Europe respecting this legislator. The name of Zoroaster was applied by some to the founder of Magism, or Sabæism; we know also, that he has been identified with many other prophets under different names, among whom is Abraham, called “the great Zar­dusht,” and Hom, of so extensive a celebrity, that his name is mentioned by Strabo as predecessor of Zoroaster. No wonder that the name of the latter occurs in more or less remote times. According to the Dabistán, he was born in Rai, a town in the province of Jebal, or Irak Ajem, the country of the ancient Parthians, and appeared as a reformer of religion, under the reign of Gushtasp, the fifth king of the Kayanian dynasty, by the Occidental histo­rians generally identified with Darius Hystaspes. Although variously stated, this period is less subject to chronological difficulties than are many others; for, as Eastern and Western historians agree in the epoch of Alexander's death (321 B. C.), we may from this, as from a fixed point, remount upwards to Gushtasp; we find, according to some Orientals, five reigns in 228 years,* and therefore that of the said king, beginning 549 years before our era, whilst, according to the Occidentals, there are ten reigns within 200 years, from Alexander's conquest of Persia to Darius Hystaspes, whose reign commences in 521 A. D. The discrepancy of twenty-eight years is far from being unexampled, even in more known periods, and may in this case be most easily and plausibly adjusted.* According to a wide-spread tradition, to which I shall have occasion to return, Gushtasp was instructed by Brahmans; pursuant to the Dabistán, his brother Jamasp was the pupil of the Indian Jangran-ghachah (Sankara acharya).* This sage, as soon as he heard of Gushtasp's listening to Zoroas­ter, wrote an epistle to dissuade the king from the adoption of the new creed; an interview took place at Balkh between the Persian and Indian sages, and the latter abandoned his religion upon hearing a nosk, or chapter of the Zand-Avesta.* This is the name of the work attributed to Zoroaster himself, a part of which was brought to Europe, in the year 1761, by Anquetil du Perron.

The author of the Dabistán mentions the Zand-Avesta, and declares the Mah-Zand to be a portion of the Desátir, and the Zand books in general con­formable to the Mahabadian code. The fifth Sassan, the translator and commentator of the Desátir, in a passage above-quoted,* joins this work to the Avesta, and is said in the Dabistán to have made a transla­tion of the code of Zardusht.

Great was the sensation caused among the learned of Europe at the first appearance of the works attributed to Zoroaster, published in French by Anque­til du Perron, in 1771. In a note of this volume* will be found the names of the principal authors who declared themselves for or against the authen­ticity of the Zoroastrian books. Among those who combated it, sir William Jones was most conspicuous. Seventy years have since elapsed, and a learned con­troversy may now be considered as settled, nay, entirely forgotten, in the course of a most eventful historical period. Nevertheless, the Desátir is so closely connected with the Zanď-Avesta, that so much having been said of the one, the other should not be lightly discarded. The value and impor­tance of the Dabistán rest chiefly upon the support of the two documents mentioned; on that account I may hope to be pardoned if I here venture to repeat whatever facts and arguments appear to me to have some bearing upon this work. But it was sir William Jones who then roused the whole learned public into lively attention, and, I dare pre­sume, that the subject may by itself at all times excite considerable interest.

I shall quote the very words of lord Teignmouth concerning the French author before mentioned:* “Anquetil had published in three quarto volumes an account of his travels in India, the life of Zoro­aster, and some supposed works of that philoso­pher. To this publication he prefixed a Discourse, in which he treated the university of Oxford, and some of its learned members and friends of Mr. Jones, with ridicule and disrespect. From the perusal of his works, Mr. Jones was little dis­posed to agree with Monsieur du Perron in the boasted importance of his communication; he was disgusted with his vanity and petulance, and par­ticularly offended by his illiberal attack upon the university, which he respected, and upon the persons whom he esteemed and admired. The letter which he addressed to M. du Perron was anonymous; it was written with great force, and expresses his indignation and contempt with a degree of asperity which the judgment of maturer years would have disapproved.”*

The letter alluded to contains most severe remarks, not only upon the Zand-Avesta, but also upon Oriental studies in general: these are blows so much more sensible to Orientalists, as they come from a friendly and most revered hand. Such was the ardor of a susceptible mind under the impres­sion of having to vindicate the honor of his friends, that he forgot for a moment the wreath which he had already won in the career of Oriental literature; he had already composed his commentary upon Asiatic poetry, and translated from the original Per­sian the Life of Nadir-shah; he had then no presen­timent of the glory which he was destined to acquire by collecting, under the Indian heaven, the lore of antique Asia. As his French letter, written in a very spirited and brilliant style, can never be read without causing a great impression, I shall be per­mitted to borrow from the writings of this cele­brated author himself some reflexions, which I think necessary for placing in a right point of view Orien­tal studies in general, and in particular the contents of the Dabistán, inasmuch as these are in some parts founded upon the Zand-Avesta, and in other points of a nature similar to that so much ridiculed in that ingenious satire.

If it were true, that Anquetil was wrong “to affront death for procuring us useless lights—if the writings of Zoroaster are a collection of gali­matia—if enlightened Europe had no need of his Zand-Avesta, which he has translated to no pur­pose, and upon which he uselessly spent eighteen years, a time which ought to have been precious to him——”* then any similar attempts which have been or shall be made to procure, in Asia, and to publish ancient historical documents, are equally ridiculous and blamable. It is certainly not the founder of a new era in Oriental literature whom we hear in these words. Nobody knew better than he that, in Asia, the cradle of mankind, we must search for the most ancient documents to restore the lost history of mankind; and if all endeavors were to prove vain and useless, still the merit of having attempted the attainment of a most laudable pur­pose would remain. It is not unimportant to fix the limits which researches can reach, and beyond which nothing is to be gained; men are benefitted and enriched at once by the saving of time and trouble which preceding attempts teach; and by all the acquisitions which better directions render possible in a new and more profitable career. Should the bold navigators who strive to arrive at the pole never attain their aim, still would their endeavors be worthy of praise; the smallest frag­ment of a rock, the slightest shoot of a plant, plucked off in the desert of eternal ice, in latitude eighty-eight, would at home be regarded with lively interest, and navigation have not a little gained in aid of other more fortunate undertakings.

But, who can like to read “puerile details, dis­gusting descriptions, barbarous words—Zoroas­ter could not have written such nonsense—either he had no common sense, or he wrote not the book which Anquetil attributed to him.”*

As much has been and may be said of the books attributed to other Asiatic legislators, who were nevertheless revered as sacred during many ages by numerous nations. Until we properly understand the ignorance and habitual ideas of Asiatics, we shall always remain ignorant of what is proverbi­ally called the wisdom of the East. To appreciate the just value of the ancient codes of laws, we ought to represent to ourselves the primitive children of the earth, as Prometheus describes them:

It will then be felt how important it was to break the savage under the yoke of seemingly puerile practices and customs. In a state which was not unaptly called “the infancy of man,” it was by no means absurd to ensure health by dietetical pre­scriptions, cleanliness by obligatory ablutions, and decency with convenience by a regulated dress; the koshti, “the girdle,” of Zoroaster was then not so unmeaning as it now appears to us. It was neces­sary to educate the moral sense by appropriate images, and to occupy conveniently, by fables, sym­bols, and mythical accounts, the first active faculty of the soul, imagination. Although those men who, as legislators, were elevated above their barbarous age, could in many points but partake in the general imbecility and ignorance of an infant state of society, they have nevertheless, among seemingly childish and absurd precepts, promulgated most luminous truths, better than which none have hitherto been known, even at the most advanced degree of civilisation. Any information above the common understanding of the age is justly called “a revelation,” and every nation has received some from their prophets, by which we have all benefited.* We, the youngest sons of science, ought to keep a grateful and reverential remembrance of our elder brothers. Let it be a subject of regret that, by the maintenance of ancient institutions much longer than was required for their intended purpose, the intellectual growth of many Asiatic nations was stopped; thus they now appear made for their laws, whilst their laws were once made for them. After these and similar reflexions, we shall view Zoroas­ter's hundred gates, and the remains of his twenty-one nosks, as venerable monuments of an antique civilisation, which ought never to be profaned by derision.

Upon the Zand language, in which Zoroaster's laws were written, I refer to the great philologers of our days, who have examined it—Rask,* Bopp, Burnouf, Lassen, and others: it is one of the most important conquests made in archæology and phi­lology, and this we owe to Anquetil. When Jones* treated with such severity the puhlication of this French author, he could not foresee that he should one day call forth to notoriety the Dabistán, which rests in great part upon the authority of the Desátir, and these very books to which he refused all authenticity. Mohsan Fani, one hundred and twenty years before Anquetil, derived his information probably from other copies of Zoroaster's works, and knew nothing of Western authors, yet his statements agree with what the latter, before and after our era related, and most particularly with what the French discoverer published of that ancient philosopher. Can it be supposed that all these men of different nations, whose statements have thus coincided during the lapse of more than two thousand years, have “imposed upon themselves, or been imposed upon by others concerning the pretended laws of a pretended legislator?” Anquetil deserved a better name than that of “a French adventurer, who translated the books ascribed to Zoroaster, from the translation of a cer­tain gypsy at Surat, and his boldness in sending them abroad as genuine”* was not unsupported by judgment. If there was some folly and foppery to deride in a young man, who spoke of his lilly-rosy cheeks and elegant figure, there was no “imposture” to detect, and too much acerbity shewn in retorting thoughtless indiscretions, exaggerated into “invectives .”

Sir William Jones, when he published the stric­tures which his antagonist, from pride or modera­tion, never answered, was but in his twenty-fourth year and under the influence of youthful ardor. Eighteen years after, in a discourse, addressed to the Asiatic Society of Calcutta, in 1789, he spoke with more moderation of Anquetil as “having had the merit of undertaking a voyage to India in his earliest youth with no other view than to recover the writings of Zoroaster.” The illustrious presi­dent of that Society was not in the position to appre­ciate Anquetil's whole character, and died too soon to become acquainted with the brilliant reputation which the youthful voyager acquired in his maturer years as a learned member of the French Academy of Letters, both in his own country and abroad.* The Dabistán informs us, that the Zand-books are of two kinds: the one, perspicuous and without enigmatical forms of speech, is called the Mah-Zand, “great Zand;” the second, abounding in enigmatic or figurative language, is entitled Kah-Zand, “little Zand.” The first, in most points speculative and practical, agrees with the Desátir; the second is intended to prevent philosophy falling into the hands of the ignorant, to whom an enigmatical veil is offered, whilst the sages know the true purport of the pure doctrine. To king Gushtasp, his brother Jamasp, his son Isfendiar, and to Bahman, the son of the latter, were attributed the interpretations of Zoroaster's religious system, and many ingenious parables which, for their moral sense, may be reck­oned among the best specimens of this kind of popular instruction.

This true statement, contained in the Dabistan,* corrects the assertion of sir William Jones,* that Mohsan Fani affirms “the work of Zarusht to have been lost.” The learned Orientalist evi­dently confounds the Mah-zand, which is said to be a portion of the Desátir, with the work of Zar­tusht. The writer of the Dabistán enumerates* the twenty-one nosks or books, of which the Zand was composed; he says:* “At present there are fourteen complete nosks, possessed by the Dosturs of Karman; the other seven being incomplete, as, through the wars and dissensions which prevailed in Iran some of the nosks have disappeared, so that, notwithstanding the greatest researches, the nosks have come into their hands in a defective state.” We find it expressly declared in the Dabistán, on the authority* of the Dostur who wrote the volume of the Sad dur, “the hundred gates,” that “the excellent faith has been received from the prophet Zartusht.” In a particular section, intitled Enumeration of some advantages which arise from the enig­matical forms of the precepts of Zartusht's followers, Moh­san not only adduces examples of Zartushtian allego­ries, but subjoins his own interpretations of them; yet he never affirms, nor even insinuates “the place of Zoroaster's lost works to have been supplied by a recent compilation.” Nor can we assent to the view, which sir W. Jones takes of the modern literature of the Mobeds, “for whom,” he says,* “as they continued to profess among themselves the religion of their forefathers, it became expe­dient to supply the last or mutilated works of their legislator by new compositions, partly from their imperfect recollection, and partly from such moral and religious knowledge as they gleaned, most probably among the Christians with whom they had an intercourse.”

To settle our judgment upon this subject, we ought to recollect, that languages and precepts may be transmitted from generation to generation by oral instruction, which indeed was once the only possible mode during a long period of time. It was then that memory was so much stronger, as, desti­tute of all artificial assistance, it depended solely upon itself. We bought the advantage of writing by resigning somewhat of memorial energy; this was the evil, which, according to Plato, Thamus, the Egyptian king, predicted to Theut, the inventor of writing. However this may be, it will appear founded upon reason and history, that religious creeds, which had once been the property of nations, are not easily eradicated by any force, or forgotten under any cir­cumstances; they become living streams of ideas and sentiments, which run uninterruptedly through the ever-renewed races of man, even when these separate from a parent stock. Hence we find, in countries and among nations the most remote from each other, so many notions and customs, the origin of which is lost in the night of time. Shall I mention the Jews, who, throughout the whole world, repeat to-day the same words which they learned more than thirty-three centuries ago? With regard to the Guebres—sir W. Jones might have safely granted a little more confidence to his friend Bahman, his Persian reader, who always named with reverence Zartusht, whose religion he professed, in common with many so called Gue­bres. For these it was not necessary “to preserve Zoroastrian books, in sheets of lead or copper, at the bottom of wells near Yezd:”* this fact, which Bahman used to assert, shows the particular care which had once been taken to guard these sacred documents, the veneration for which most naturally prevented any falsification of their known contents.

We are confirmed, by the author of the Dabistán, that Zoroaster did not change the fundamentals of the ancient religion; only the dualism of the prin­ciples, good and bad, not existing, as I have remarked* in the Mahabadian religion, was either then first introduced, or only further developed; besides, we see the cycle of 12,000 years fixed, and divided into four periods of 3000 years each; we hear the promise of a Saviour to restore the empire of God pro­mulgated, and the destruction of the world by fire announced: this is at the same time the epoch of the general resurrection, which is one of the most remarkable dogmas of the Zoroastrian religion.

Although this be not destitute of religious obser­vances, yet we find scarce any painful austerity recommended. The twenty-fifth gate of Zoroaster contains the remarkable precept: “Know that in thy faith there is no fasting except that of avoid­ing sin: in which sense thou must fast the whole year.”* The ancient Mahabadian religion, although adulterated before, during, and after Zoroaster's life, seems to have never lost its grave character and solemnity. In the Zand-books known to us, no trace of temples, altars, or religious sym­bols exist. Herodotus knew of none; the fire-places were upon a desert place, or upon mountains; the fire upon the ground. Upon the Persian monu­ments which time has spared, upon the walls of the thousand-pillared palace of Isfahan, and upon those of the Royal tombs we see no idols, but priests and kings, performing the sacrifice of fire before their fervers, “ideals of virtue and sanctity,” and other actions rather of a political than religious character. The pyræa, round and concave, represented the vault of heaven. Nevertheles other accounts per­mit us to believe, that, by association with other nations; most likely by the introduction of sculp­ture, architecture, and painting; and, as the Dabistán expressly says, by the use of symbolical lan­guage; a superstitious worship of sacred places and symbolic images gained a great ascendancy.

This religion prevailed during the times of the Kayanian kings from Gushtasp to Dara the Second, during more than two centuries. After the con­quest of Persia by Alexander, a political and reli­gious revolution took place in this country, and extended to Greece, where, according to the commen­tary of the Desátir, the creed of the Gushaspians was introduced. This is declared to be a medium between the Illuminated and the Rationalists, perhaps the same which the Dabistán calls the faith of the Beh-dinians, “professors of the better religion.” So much is avowed by Philo, Plinius, and others—and we have reason to lay stress upon this avowal— that at one time the so called barbarians were reck­oned to be more wise and virtuous than the Greeks. During the Ashkanian dynasty (from the third cen­tury B. C. to the end of the second after our era), the people conformed to the Kah-zand, that is, yielded to the superstition, which the figurative lan­guage was apt to suggest. Ardeshir, the first Sas­sanian, in the beginning of the third century A. D.; endeavored to re-establish the ancient religion; but, after his reign of forty years, the Kah-zand took and kept the ascendancy, until the Persian empire fell before the overwhelming power of the Muham­medans. The Mah-zand was lost during the domi­nation of the intolerant invaders, Greeks, Arabs, and Turks; the Kah-zand still remains in some of its parts, whilst many others were lost in the suc­cessive disorders of the state.

The fifteenth and last section of the first chapter treats of Mazdak, who lived in the fifth century of our era. We are informed of the existence of a book, called Desnak, which the author of the Dabistán saw, and which contains the doctrine of this reformer. This was nothing else than the Zoroas­trian system about the two principles, Yezed, “God” or “light,” and Ahriman, “agent of evil” or “dark­ness,” with a few peculiarities which did not destroy the fundamental principles of the original religion. But, it was the ethical part of his doctrine which at first caused a great revolution, and at last the destruction of the teacher and his numerous disciples, Mazdak bade all men to be partners in riches and women, just as they are of fire, water, and grass; private property was not to exist; each man to enjoy or to endure, in his turn, the good and bad lots of this world. To this strange doctrine may be perhaps applied the saying of a great bishop (Bossuet): that “every error is but an abuse of some truth.” To prevent an excessive inequality of fortunes in society was the object towards which celebrated ancient legislators tended, and for which frequently wishes were expressed, reforms projected, and politico-philosophical romances* com­posed by well-meaning and respectable persons. It is therefore to a natural, but dangerous propen­sity of the human mind, that we ought to refer Mazdak's bold and for some time too successful attempt, as well as all the doctrines of the same ten­dency, which before and after him were and will henceforth be proposed.

I have now terminated the general review of what the first chapter of the Dabistán, and the first volume of the English translation contain, concern­ing the most ancient dynasties, religions, and political institutions of Persia.