Demonology and Devil-lore
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Title: Demonology and Devil-lore
Author: Moncure Daniel Conway
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEMONOLOGY AND DEVIL-LORE ***
DEMONOLOGY AND DEVIL-LORE
By
MONCURE DANIEL CONWAY, M.A.
B. D. of Divinity College, Harvard University
Member of the Anthropological Institute, London
With numerous illustrations
New York
Henry Holt and Company
1879
PREFACE.
Three Friars, says a legend, hid themselves near the Witch Sabbath
orgies that they might count the devils; but the Chief of these,
discovering the friars, said--'Reverend Brothers, our army is such
that if all the Alps, their rocks and glaciers, were equally divided
among us, none would have a pound's weight.' This was in one Alpine
valley. Any one who has caught but a glimpse of the world's Walpurgis
Night, as revealed in Mythology and Folklore, must agree that this
courteous devil did not overstate the case. Any attempt to catalogue
the evil spectres which have haunted mankind were like trying to count
the shadows cast upon the earth by the rising sun. This conviction
has grown upon the author of this work at every step in his studies
of the subject.
In 1859 I contributed, as one of the American 'Tracts for the Times,'
a pamphlet entitled 'The Natural History of the Devil.' Probably
the chief value of that essay was to myself, and this in that
its preparation had revealed to me how pregnant with interest and
importance was the subject selected. Subsequent researches in the
same direction, after I had come to reside in Europe, revealed how
slight had been my conception of the vastness of the domain upon which
that early venture was made. In 1872, while preparing a series of
lectures for the Royal Institution on Demonology, it appeared to me
that the best I could do was to print those lectures with some notes
and additions; but after they were delivered there still remained with
me unused the greater part of materials collected in many countries,
and the phantasmal creatures which I had evoked would not permit me
to rest from my labours until I had dealt with them more thoroughly.
The fable of Thor's attempt to drink up a small spring, and his
failure because it was fed by the ocean, seems aimed at such efforts
as mine. But there is another aspect of the case which has yielded
me more encouragement. These phantom hosts, however unmanageable as
to number, when closely examined, present comparatively few types;
they coalesce by hundreds; from being at first overwhelmed by their
multiplicity, the classifier finds himself at length beating bushes to
start a new variety. Around some single form--the physiognomy, it may
be, of Hunger or Disease, of Lust or Cruelty--ignorant imagination
has broken up nature into innumerable bits which, like mirrors of
various surface, reflect the same in endless sizes and distortions;
but they vanish if that central fact be withdrawn.
In trying to conquer, as it were, these imaginary monsters, they
have sometimes swarmed and gibbered around me in a mad comedy
which travestied their tragic sway over those who believed in their
reality. Gargoyles extended their grin over the finest architecture,
cornices coiled to serpents, the very words of speakers started out of
their conventional sense into images that tripped my attention. Only
as what I believed right solutions were given to their problems were
my sphinxes laid; but through this psychological experience it appeared
that when one was so laid his or her legion disappeared also. Long ago
such phantasms ceased to haunt my nerves, because I discovered their
unreality; I am now venturing to believe that their mythologic forms
cease to haunt my studies, because I have found out their reality.
Why slay the slain? Such may be the question that will arise in the
minds of many who see this book. A Scotch song says, 'The Devil is
dead, and buried at Kirkcaldy;' if so, he did not die until he had
created a world in his image. The natural world is overlaid by an
unnatural religion, breeding bitterness around simplest thoughts,
obstructions to science, estrangements not more reasonable than if
they resulted from varying notions of lunar figures,--all derived from
the Devil-bequeathed dogma that certain beliefs and disbeliefs are of
infernal instigation. Dogmas moulded in a fossil demonology make the
foundation of institutions which divert wealth, learning, enterprise,
to fictitious ends. It has not, therefore, been mere intellectual
curiosity which has kept me working at this subject these many years,
but an increasing conviction that the sequelæ of such superstitions are
exercising a still formidable influence. When Father Delaporte lately
published his book on the Devil, his Bishop wrote--'Reverend Father, if
every one busied himself with the Devil as you do, the kingdom of God
would gain by it.' Identifying the kingdom here spoken of as that of
Truth, it has been with a certain concurrence in the Bishop's sentiment
that I have busied myself with the work now given to the public.
CONTENTS
Part I.
Chapter I.
Dualism.
Origin of Deism--Evolution from the far to the near--Illustrations
from Witchcraft--The primitive Pantheism--The dawn of Dualism
Chapter II.
The Genesis of Demons.
Their good names euphemistic--Their mixed character--Illustrations:
Beelzebub, Loki--Demon-germs--The knowledge of good and
evil--Distinction between Demon and Devil
Chapter III.
Degradation.
The degradation of Deities--Indicated in names--Legends of
their fall--Incidental signs of the divine origin of Demons and
Devils
Chapter IV.
The Abgott.
The ex-god--Deities demonised by conquest--Theological animosity--
Illustration from the Avesta--Devil-worship an arrested Deism--
Sheik Adi--Why Demons were painted ugly--Survivals of their beauty
Chapter V.
Classification.
The obstructions of man--The twelve chief classes--Modifications of
particular forms for various functions--Theological Demons
Part II.
Chapter I.
Hunger.
Hunger-demons--Kephn--Miru--Kagura--Ráhu the Hindu sun-devourer--
The earth monster at Pelsall--A Franconian custom--Sheitan as
moon-devourer--Hindu offerings to the dead--Ghoul--Goblin--
Vampyres--Leanness of demons--Old Scotch custom--The origin of
sacrifices
Chapter II.
Heat.
Demons of fire--Agni--Asmodeus--Prometheus--Feast of fire--Moloch
--Tophet--Genii of the lamp--Bel-fires--Hallowe'en--Negro
superstitions--Chinese fire-god--Volcanic and incendiary demons--
Mangaian fire-demon--Demons' fear of water
Chapter III.
Cold.
Descent of Ishtar into Hades--Bardism--Baldur--Herakles--Christ--
Survivals of the Frost Giant in Slavonic and other countries--
The Clavie--The Frozen Hell--The Northern abode of Demons--North
side of churches
Chapter IV.
Elements.
A Scottish Munasa--Rudra--Siva's lightning eye--The flaming
sword--Limping Demons--Demons of the storm--Helios, Elias,
Perun--Thor arrows--The Bob-tailed Dragon--Whirlwind--Japanese
Thunder God--Christian survivals--Jinni--Inundations--Noah--Nik,
Nicholas, Old Nick--Nixies--Hydras--Demons of the Danube--Tides
--Survivals in Russia and England
Chapter V.
Animals.
Animal demons distinguished--Trivial sources of Mythology--
Hedgehog--Fox--Transmigrations in Japan--Horses bewitched--
Rats--Lions--Cats--The Dog--Goethe's horror of dogs--Superstitions
of the Parsees, people of Travancore, and American Negroes, Red
Indians, &c.--Cynocephaloi--The Wolf--Traditions of the Nez Perces
--Fenris--Fables--The Boar--The Bear--Serpent--Every animal power
to harm demonised--Horns
Chapter VI.
Enemies.
Aryas, Dasyus,
Nagas--Yakkhos--Lycians--Ethiopians--Hirpini--Polites--Sosipolis--
Were-wolves--Goths and Scythians--Giants and Dwarfs--Berserkers--
Britons--Iceland--Mimacs--Gog and Magog
Chapter VII.
Barrenness.
Indian Famine and Sun-spots--Sun-worship--Demon of the Desert--The
Sphinx--Egyptian Plagues described by Lepsius: Locusts, Hurricane,
Flood, Mice, Flies--The Sheikh's ride--Abaddon--Set--Typhon--The
Cain wind--Seth--Mirage--The Desert Eden--Azazel--Tawiscara and
the Wild-rose
Chapter VIII.
Obstacles.
Mephistopheles on crags--Emerson on Monadnoc--Ruskin on Alpine
peasants--Holy and unholy mountains--The Devil's Pulpit--
Montagnards--Tarns--Tenjo--T'ai-shan--Apocatequil--Tyrolese
legends--Rock ordeal--Scylla and Charybdis--Scottish giants--
Pontifex--Devil's bridges--Le géant Yéous
Chapter IX.
Illusion.
Maya--Natural Treacheries--Misleaders--Glamour--Lorelei--Chinese
Mermaid--Transformations--Swan Maidens--Pigeon Maidens--The
Seal-skin--Nudity--Teufelsee--Gohlitsee--Japanese Siren--Dropping
Cave--Venusberg--Godiva--Will-o'-Wisp--Holy Fräulein--The Forsaken
Merman--The Water-Man--Sea Phantom--Sunken Treasures--Suicide
Chapter X.
Darkness.
Shadows--Night Deities--Kobolds--Walpurgisnacht--Night as
Abettor of Evil-doers--Nightmare--Dreams--Invisible Foes--Jacob
and his Phantom--Nott--The Prince of Darkness--The Brood of
Midnight--Second-Sight--Spectres of Souter Fell--The Moonshine
Vampyre--Glamour--Glam and Grettir--A-Story of Dartmoor
Chapter XI.
Disease.
The Plague Phantom--Devil-dances--Destroying Angels--Ahriman in
Astrology--Saturn--Satan and Job--Set--The Fatal Seven--Yakseyo--
The Singhalese Pretraya--Reeri--Maha Sohon--Morotoo--Luther on
Disease-demons--Gopolu--Madan--Cattle-demon in Russia--Bihlweisen
--The Plough
Chapter XII.
Death.
The Vendetta of Death--Teoyaomiqui--Demon of Serpents--Death on
the Pale Horse--Kali--War-gods--Satan as Death--Death-beds--
Thanatos--Yama--Yimi--Towers of Silence--Alcestis--Herakles,
Christ, and Death--Hell--Salt--Azraël--Death and the Cobbler--
Dance of Death--Death as Foe and as Friend
Part III.
Chapter I.
Decline of Demons.
The Holy Tree of Travancore--The growth of Demons in India,
and their decline--The Nepaul Iconoclast--Moral Man and unmoral
Nature--Man's physical and mental migrations--Heine's 'Gods in
Exile'--The Goban Saor--Master Smith--A Greek caricature of
the Gods--The Carpenter v. Deity and Devil--Extermination of
the Were-wolf--Refuges of Demons--The Giants reduced to Little
People--Deities and Demons returning to nature
Chapter II.
Generalisation of Demons.
The Demons' bequest to their
conquerors--Nondescripts--Exaggerations of Tradition--Saurian
Theory of Dragons--The Dragon not primitive in Mythology--Monsters
of Egyptian, Iranian, Vedic, and Jewish Mythologies--Turner's
Dragon--Della Bella--The Conventional Dragon
Chapter III.
The Serpent.
The beauty of the Serpent--Emerson on ideal forms--Michelet's
thoughts on the viper's head--Unique characters of the
Serpent--The Monkey's horror of Snakes--The Serpent protected
by superstition--Human defencelessness against its subtle
powers--Dubufe's picture of the Fall of Man
Chapter IV.
The Worm.
An African Serpent-drama in America--The Veiled Serpent--The
Ark of the Covenant--Aaron's Rod--The Worm--An Episode on the Dii
Involuti--The Serapes--The Bambino at Rome--Serpent-transformations
Chapter V.
Apophis.
The Naturalistic Theory of Apophis--The Serpent of Time--Epic of
the Worm--The Asp of Melite--Vanquishers of Time--Nachash-Beriach
--The Serpent-Spy--Treading on Serpents
Chapter VI.
The Serpent in India.
The Kankato na--The Vedic Serpents not worshipful--Ananta and
Sesha--The Healing Serpent--The guardian of treasures--Miss
Buckland's theory--Primitive rationalism--Underworld
plutocracy--Rain and lightning--Vritra--History of the word
'Ahi'--The Adder--Zohak--A Teutonic Laokoon
Chapter VII.
The Basilisk.
The Serpent's gem--The Basilisk's eye--Basiliscus
mitratus--House-snakes in Russia and Germany--King-snakes--Heraldic
Dragon--Henry III.--Melusina--The Laidley Worm--Victorious
Dragons--Pendragon--Merlin and Vortigern--Medicinal dragons
361
Chapter VIII.
The Dragon's Eye.
The Eye of Evil--Turner's Dragons--Cloud-phantoms--Paradise and
the Snake--Prometheus and Jove--Art and Nature--Dragon forms:
Anglo-Saxon, Italian, Egyptian, Greek, German--The modern
conventional Dragon
Chapter IX.
The Combat.
The pre-Munchausenite world--The Colonial Dragon--Io's
journey--Medusa--British Dragons--The Communal Dragon--Savage
Saviours--A Mimac helper--The Brutal Dragon--Woman protected--The
Saint of the Mikados
Chapter X.
The Dragon-slayer.
Demi-gods--Alcestis--Herakles--The Ghilghit Fiend--Incarnate
deliverer of Ghilghit--A Dardistan Madonna--The religion
of Atheism--Resuscitation of Dragons--St. George and his
Dragon--Emerson and Ruskin on George--Saintly allies of the
Dragon
Chapter XI.
The Dragon's Breath.
Medusa--Phenomena of recurrence--The Brood of Echidna and their
survival--Behemoth and Leviathan--The Mouth of Hell--The Lambton
Worm--Ragnar--The Lambton Doom--The Worm's Orthodoxy--The Serpent,
Superstition, and Science
Chapter XII.
Fate.
Doré's 'Love and Fate'--Moira and Moiræ--The 'Fates'
of Æschylus--Divine absolutism surrendered--Jove
and Typhon--Commutation of the Demon's share--Popular
fatalism--Theological fatalism--Fate and Necessity--Deification
of Will--Metaphysics, past and present
Part IV.
Chapter I.
Diabolism.
Dragon and Devil distinguished--Dragons' wings--War in Heaven--
Expulsion of Serpents--Dissolution of the Dragon--Theological
origin of the Devil--Ideal and Actual--Devil Dogma--Debasement
of ideal persons--Transmigration of phantoms
Chapter II.
The Second Best.
Respect for the Devil--Primitive Atheism--Idealisation--Birth of
new gods--New gods diabolised--Compromise between new gods and
old--Foreign deities degraded--Their utilisation
Chapter III.
Ahriman, the Divine Devil.
Mr. Irving's impersonation of Superstition--Revolution against
pious privilege--Doctrine of 'Merits'--Saintly immorality in
India--A Pantheon turned Inferno--Zendavesta on Good and Evil--
Parsî Mythology--The Combat of Ahriman with Ormuzd--Optimism--
Parsî Eschatology--Final Restoration of Ahriman
Chapter IV.
Viswámitra, the Theocratic Devil.
Priestcraft and Pessimism--An Aryan Tetzel and his Luther--Brahman
Frogs--Evolution of the Sacerdotal Saint--Viswámitra the Accuser
of Virtue--The Tamil Passion-Play 'Harischandra'--Ordeal of
Goblins--The Martyr of Truth--Virtue triumphant over ceremonial
'Merits'--Harischandra and Job
Chapter V.
Elohim and Jehovah.
Deified power--Giants and Jehovah--Jehovah's manifesto--The various
Elohim--Two Jehovahs and two Tables--Contradictions--Detachment
of the Elohim from Jehovah
Chapter VI.
The Consuming Fire.
The Shekinah--Jewish idols--Attributes of the fiery and
cruel Elohim compared with those of the Devil--The powers of
evil combined under a head--Continuity--The consuming fire
spiritualised
Chapter VII.
Paradise and the Serpent.
Herakles and Athena in a holy picture--Human significance of
Eden--The legend in Genesis puzzling--Silence of later books
concerning it--Its Vedic elements--Its explanation--Episode of
the Mahábhárata--Scandinavian variant--The name of Adam--The
story re-read--Rabbinical interpretations
Chapter VIII.
Eve.
The Fall of Man--Fall of gods--Giants--Prajápati and Ráhu--Woman
and Star-Serpent in Persia--Meschia and Meschiane--Bráhman
legends of the creation of Man--The strength of Woman--Elohist
and Jehovist creations of Man--The Forbidden Fruit--Eve reappears
as Sara--Abraham surrenders his wife to Jehovah--The idea not
sensual--Abraham's circumcision--The evil name of Woman--Noah's
wife--The temptation of Abraham--Rabbinical legends concerning
Eve--Pandora--Sentiment of the Myth of Eve
Chapter IX.
Lilith.
Madonnas--Adam's first wife--Her flight and doom--Creation of
Devils--Lilith marries Samaël--Tree of Life--Lilith's part
in the Temptation--Her locks--Lamia--Bodeima--Meschia and
Meschiane--Amazons--Maternity--Rib-theory of Woman--Káli and
Durga--Captivity of Woman
Chapter X.
War in Heaven.
The 'Other'--Tiamat, Bohu, 'the Deep'--Ra and Apophis--Hathors
--Bel's combat--Revolt in Heaven--Lilith--Myth of the Devil at
the creation of Light
Chapter XI.
War on Earth.
The Abode of Devils--Ketef--Disorder--Talmudic legends--The
restless Spirit--The Fall of Lucifer--Asteria, Hecate, Lilith--The
Dragon's triumph--A Gipsy legend--Cædmon's Poem of the Rebellious
Angels--Milton's version--The Puritans and Prince Rupert--Bel
as ally of the Dragon--A 'Mystery' in Marionettes--European
Hells
Chapter XII.
Strife.
Hebrew God of War--Samaël--The father's blessing and curse--
Esau--Edom--Jacob and the Phantom--The planet Mars--Tradesman
and Huntsman--'The Devil's Dream'
Chapter XIII.
Barbaric Aristocracy.
Jacob, the 'Impostor'--The Barterer--Esau, the 'Warrior'--Barbarian
Dukes--Trade and War--Reconciliation of Jacob and Esau--Their
Ghosts--Legend of Iblis--Pagan Warriors of Europe--Russian
Hierarchy of Hell
Chapter XIV.
Job and the Divider.
Hebrew Polytheism--Problem of Evil--Job's disbelief in a
future life--The Divider's realm--Salted sacrifices--Theory
of Orthodoxy--Job's reasoning--His humour--Impartiality of
Fortune between the evil and good--Agnosticism of Job--Elihu's
Eclecticism--Jehovah of the Whirlwind--Heresies of Job--Rabbinical
legend of Job--Universality of the legend
Chapter XV.
Satan.
Public Prosecutors--Satan as Accuser--English Devil-Worshipper
--Conversion by Terror--Satan in the Old Testament--The trial of
Joshua--Sender of Plagues--Satan and Serpent--Portrait of Satan
--Scapegoat of Christendom--Catholic 'Sight of Hell'--The ally
of Priesthoods
Chapter XVI.
Religious Despotism.
Pharaoh and Herod--Zoroaster's mother--Ahriman's emissaries--Kansa
and Krishna--Emissaries of Kansa--Astyages and Cyrus--Zohák--Bel
and the Christian
Chapter XVII.
The Prince of this World.
Temptations--Birth of Buddha--Mara--Temptation of Power--Asceticism
and Luxury--Mara's menaces--Appearance of the Buddha's
Vindicator--Ahriman tempts Zoroaster--Satan and Christ--Criticism
of Strauss--Jewish traditions--Hunger--Variants
Chapter XVIII.
Trial of the Great.
A 'Morality' at Tours--The 'St. Anthony' of Spagnoletto--Bunyan's
Pilgrim--Milton on Christ's Temptation--An Edinburgh saint and
Unitarian fiend--A haunted Jewess--Conversion by fever--Limit of
courage--Woman and sorcery--Luther and the Devil--The ink-spot at
Wartburg--Carlyle's interpretation--The cowled Devil--Carlyle's
trial--In Rue St. Thomas d'Enfer--The Everlasting No--Devil of
Vauvert--The latter-day conflict--New conditions--The Victory of
Man--The Scholar and the World
Chapter XIX.
The Man of Sin.
Hindu myth--Gnostic theories--Ophite scheme of redemption--
Rabbinical traditions of Primitive Man--Pauline Pessimism--Law
of death--Satan's ownership of Man--Redemption of the Elect--
Contemporary statements--Baptism--Exorcism--The 'new man's'
food--Eucharist--Herbert Spencer's explanation--Primitive
ideas--Legends of Adam and Seth--Adamites--A Mormon 'Mystery'
of initiation
Chapter XX.
The Holy Ghost.
A Hanover relic--Mr. Atkinson on the Dove--The Dove in the Old
Testament--Ecclesiastical symbol--Judicial symbol--A vision of
St. Dunstan's--The witness of chastity--Dove and Serpent--The
unpardonable sin--Inexpiable sin among the Jews--Destructive
power of Jehovah--Potency of the breath--Third persons of
Trinities--Pentecost--Christian superstitions--Mr. Moody on the sin
against the Holy Ghost--Mysterious fear--Idols of the cave
Chapter XXI.
Antichrist.
The Kali Age--Satan sifting Simon--Satan as Angel of Light--
Epithets of Antichrist--The Cæsars--Nero--Sacraments imitated
by Pagans--Satanic signs and wonders--Jerome on Antichrist--
Armillus--Al Dajjail--Luther on Mohammed--'Mawmet'--Satan
'God's ape'--Mediæval notions--Witches' Sabbath--An Infernal
Trinity--Serpent of Sins--Antichrist Popes--Luther as Antichrist
--Modern notions of Antichrist
Chapter XXII.
The Pride of Life.
The curse of Iblis--Samaël as Democrat--His vindication by
Christ and Paul--Asmodäus--History of the name--Aschmedai of the
Jews--Book of Tobit--Doré's 'Triumph of Christianity'--Aucassin
and Nicolette--Asmodeus in the convent--The Asmodeus of Le
Sage--Mephistopheles--Blake's 'Marriage of Heaven and Hell'--The
Devil and the artists--Sádi's Vision of Satan--Arts of the
Devil--Suspicion of beauty--Earthly and heavenly mansions--Deacon
versus Devil
Chapter XXIII.
The Curse on Knowledge.
A Bishop on intellect--The Bible on learning--The Serpent and
Seth--A Hebrew Renaissance--Spells--Shelley at Oxford--
Book-burning--Japanese ink-devil--Book of Cyprianus--Devil's
Bible--Red Letters--Dread of Science--Roger Bacon--Luther's
Devil--Lutherans and Science
Chapter XXIV.
Witchcraft.
Minor gods--Saint and Satyr--Tutelaries--Spells--Early Christianity
and the poor--Its doctrine as to pagan deities--Mediæval
Devils--Devils on the stage--An Abbot's revelations--The fairer
deities--Oriental dreams and spirits--Calls for Nemesis--Lilith
and her children--Neoplatonicism--Astrology and Alchemy--Devil's
College--Shem-hammphorásch--Apollonius of Tyana--Faustus--Black Art
Schools--Compacts with the Devil--Blood covenant--Spirit-seances in
old times--The Fairfax delusion--Origin of its devil--Witch, goat,
and cat--Confessions of Witches--Witchcraft in New England--Witch
trials--Salem demonology--Testing witches--Witch trials in
Sweden--Witch Sabbath--Mythological elements--Carriers--Scotch
Witches--The cauldron--Vervain--Rue--Invocation of Hecaté--Factors
of Witch persecution--Three centuries of massacre--Würzburg
horrors--Last victims--Modern Spiritualism
Chapter XXV.
Faust and Mephistopheles.
Mephisto and Mephitis--The Raven Book--Papal sorcery--Magic
seals--Mephistopheles as dog--George Sabellicus alias Faustus--The
Faust myth--Marlowe's 'Faust'--Good and evil angels--'El Magico
Prodigioso'--Cyprian and Justina--Klinger's 'Faust'--Satan's
sermon--Goethe's Mephistopheles--His German characters--Moral
scepticism--Devil's gifts--Helena--Redemption through Art--Defeat
of Mephistopheles
Chapter XXVI.
The Wild Huntsman.
The Wild Hunt--Euphemisms--Schimmelreiter--Odinwald--Pied Piper
--Lyeshy--Waldemar's Hunt--Palne Hunter--King Abel's Hunt--Lords
of Glorup--Le Grand Veneur--Robert le Diable--Arthur--Hugo--Herne
--Tregeagle--Der Freischütz--Elijah's chariot--Mahan Bali--Déhak
--Nimrod--Nimrod's defiance of Jehovah--His Tower--Robber Knights
--The Devil in Leipzig--Olaf hunting pagans--Hunting-horns--Raven
--Boar--Hounds--Horse--Dapplegrimm--Sleipnir--Horse-flesh--The
mare Chetiya--Stags--St. Hubert--The White Lady--Myths of Mother
Rose--Wodan hunting St. Walpurga--Friar Eckhardt
Chapter XXVII.
Le Bon Diable.
The Devil repainted--Satan a divine agent--St. Orain's
heresy--Primitive universalism--Father Sinistrari--Salvation of
demons--Mediæval sects--Aquinas--His prayer for Satan--Popular
antipathies--The Devil's gratitude--Devil defending
innocence--Devil against idle lords--The wicked ale-wife--Pious
offenders punished--Anachronistic Devils--Devils turn to
poems--Devil's good advice--Devil sticks to his word--His love
of justice--Charlemagne and the Serpent--Merlin--His prison of
Air--Mephistopheles in Heaven
Chapter XXVIII.
Animalism.
Celsus on Satan--Ferocities of inward nature--The Devil
of Lust--Celibacy--Blue Beards--Shudendozi--A lady in
distress--Bahirawa--The Black Prince--Madana Yaksenyo--Fair
fascinators--Devil of Jealousy--Eve's jealousy--Noah's wife--How
Satan entered the Ark--Shipwright's Dirge--The Second Fall--The
Drunken curse--Solomon's Fall--Cellar Devils--Gluttony--The Vatican
haunted--Avarice--Animalised Devils--Man-shaped Animals
Chapter XXIX.
Thoughts and Interpretations 421
PART I.
DEMONOLATRY.
CHAPTER I.
DUALISM.
Origin of Deism--Evolution from the far to the near--Illustrations
from witchcraft--The primitive Pantheism--The dawn of Dualism.
A college in the State of Ohio has adopted for its motto the words
'Orient thyself.' This significant admonition to Western youth
represents one condition of attaining truth in the science of
mythology. Through neglect of it the glowing personifications and
metaphors of the East have too generally migrated to the West only to
find it a Medusa turning them to stone. Our prosaic literalism changes
their ideals to idols. The time has come when we must learn rather to
see ourselves in them: out of an age and civilisation where we live in
habitual recognition of natural forces we may transport ourselves to a
period and region where no sophisticated eye looks upon nature. The sun
is a chariot drawn by shining steeds and driven by a refulgent deity;
the stars ascend and move by arbitrary power or command; the tree is
the bower of a spirit; the fountain leaps from the urn of a naiad. In
such gay costumes did the laws of nature hold their carnival until
Science struck the hour for unmasking. The costumes and masks have
with us become materials for studying the history of the human mind,
but to know them we must translate our senses back into that phase
of our own early existence, so far as is consistent with carrying
our culture with us.
Without conceding too much to Solar mythology, it may be pronounced
tolerably clear that the earliest emotion of worship was born out
of the wonder with which man looked up to the heavens above him. The
splendours of the morning and evening; the azure vault, painted with
frescoes of cloud or blackened by the storm; the night, crowned with
constellations: these awakened imagination, inspired awe, kindled
admiration, and at length adoration, in the being who had reached
intervals in which his eye was lifted above the earth. Amid the rapture
of Vedic hymns to these sublimities we meet sharp questionings whether
there be any such gods as the priests say, and suspicion is sometimes
cast on sacrifices. The forms that peopled the celestial spaces may
have been those of ancestors, kings, and great men, but anterior to
all forms was the poetic enthusiasm which built heavenly mansions for
them; and the crude cosmogonies of primitive science were probably
caught up by this spirit, and consecrated as slowly as scientific
generalisations now are.
Our modern ideas of evolution might suggest the reverse of this--that
human worship began with things low and gradually ascended to high
objects; that from rude ages, in which adoration was directed to
stock and stone, tree and reptile, the human mind climbed by degrees
to the contemplation and reverence of celestial grandeurs. But the
accord of this view with our ideas of evolution is apparent only. The
real progress seems here to have been from the far to the near, from
the great to the small. It is, indeed, probably inexact to speak of
the worship of stock and stone, weed and wort, insect and reptile,
as primitive. There are many indications that such things were by no
race considered intrinsically sacred, nor were they really worshipped
until the origin of their sanctity was lost; and even now, ages
after their oracular or symbolical character has been forgotten, the
superstitions that have survived in connection with such insignificant
objects point to an original association with the phenomena of the
heavens. No religions could, at first glance, seem wider apart than
the worship of the serpent and that of the glorious sun; yet many
ancient temples are covered with symbols combining sun and snake,
and no form is more familiar in Egypt than the solar serpent standing
erect upon its tail, with rays around its head.
Nor is this high relationship of the adored reptile found only in
regions where it might have been raised up by ethnical combinations as
the mere survival of a savage symbol. William Craft, an African who
resided for some time in the kingdom of Dahomey, informed me of the
following incident which he had witnessed there. The sacred serpents
are kept in a grand house, which they sometimes leave to crawl in
their neighbouring grounds. One day a negro from some distant region
encountered one of these animals and killed it. The people learning
that one of their gods had been slain, seized the stranger, and having
surrounded him with a circle of brushwood, set it on fire. The poor
wretch broke through the circle of fire and ran, pursued by the crowd,
who struck him with heavy sticks. Smarting from the flames and blows,
he rushed into a river; but no sooner had he entered there than the
pursuit ceased, and he was told that, having gone through fire and
water, he was purified, and might emerge with safety. Thus, even in
that distant and savage region, serpent-worship was associated with
fire-worship and river-worship, which have a wide representation in
both Aryan and Semitic symbolism. To this day the orthodox Israelites
set beside their dead, before burial, the lighted candle and a basin
of pure water. These have been associated in rabbinical mythology with
the angels Michael (genius of Water) and Gabriel (genius of Fire);
but they refer both to the phenomenal glories and the purifying
effects of the two elements as reverenced by the Africans in one
direction and the Parsees in another.
Not less significant are the facts which were attested at the
witch-trials. It was shown that for their pretended divinations they
used plants--as rue and vervain--well known in the ancient Northern
religions, and often recognised as examples of tree-worship; but it
also appeared that around the cauldron a mock zodiacal circle was
drawn, and that every herb employed was alleged to have derived its
potency from having been gathered at a certain hour of the night or
day, a particular quarter of the moon, or from some spot where sun or
moon did or did not shine upon it. Ancient planet-worship is, indeed,
still reflected in the habit of village herbalists, who gather their
simples at certain phases of the moon, or at certain of those holy
periods of the year which conform more or less to the pre-christian
festivals.
These are a few out of many indications that the small and senseless
things which have become almost or quite fetishes were by no means such
at first, but were mystically connected with the heavenly elements
and splendours, like the animal forms in the zodiac. In one of the
earliest hymns of the Rig-Veda it is said--'This earth belongs to
Varuna (Ouranos) the king, and the wide sky: he is contained also in
this drop of water.' As the sky was seen reflected in the shining curve
of a dew-drop, even so in the shape or colour of a leaf or flower,
the transformation of a chrysalis, or the burial and resurrection
of a scarabæus' egg, some sign could be detected making it answer in
place of the typical image which could not yet be painted or carved.
The necessities of expression would, of course, operate to invest
the primitive conceptions and interpretations of celestial phenomena
with those pictorial images drawn from earthly objects of which the
early languages are chiefly composed. In many cases that are met
in the most ancient hymns, the designations of exalted objects are
so little descriptive of them, that we may refer them to a period
anterior to the formation of that refined and complex symbolism by
which primitive religions have acquired a representation in definite
characters. The Vedic comparisons of the various colours of the dawn
to horses, or the rain-clouds to cows, denotes a much less mature
development of thought than the fine observation implied in the
connection of the forked lightning with the forked serpent-tongue and
forked mistletoe, or symbolisation of the universe in the concentric
folds of an onion. It is the presence of these more mystical and
complex ideas in religions which indicate a progress of the human
mind from the large and obvious to the more delicate and occult, and
the growth of the higher vision which can see small things in their
large relationships. Although the exaltation in the Vedas of Varuna
as king of heaven, and as contained also in a drop of water, is in
one verse, we may well recognise an immense distance in time between
the two ideas there embodied. The first represents that primitive
pantheism which is the counterpart of ignorance. An unclassified
outward universe is the reflection of a mind without form and void:
it is while all within is as yet undiscriminating wonder that the
religious vesture of nature will be this undefined pantheism. The
fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil has not yet been
tasted. In some of the earlier hymns of the Rig-Veda, the Maruts,
the storm-deities, are praised along with Indra, the sun; Yama,
king of Death, is equally adored with the goddess of Dawn. 'No real
foe of yours is known in heaven, nor in earth.' 'The storms are thy
allies.' Such is the high optimism of sentences found even in sacred
books which elsewhere mask the dawn of the Dualism which ultimately
superseded the harmony of the elemental Powers. 'I create light
and I create darkness, I create good and I create evil.' 'Look unto
Yezdan, who causeth the shadow to fall.' But it is easy to see what
must be the result when this happy family of sun-god and storm-god
and fire-god, and their innumerable co-ordinate divinities, shall
be divided by discord. When each shall have become associated with
some earthly object or fact, he or she will appear as friend or foe,
and their connection with the sources of human pleasure and pain will
be reflected in collisions and wars in the heavens. The rebel clouds
will be transformed to Titans and Dragons. The adored Maruts will be
no longer storm-heroes with unsheathed swords of lightning, marching
as the retinue of Indra, but fire-breathing monsters--Vritras and
Ahis,--and the morning and evening shadows from faithful watch-dogs
become the treacherous hell-hounds, like Orthros and Cerberus. The
vehement antagonisms between animals and men and of tribe against
tribe, will be expressed in the conception of struggles among gods,
who will thus be classified as good or evil deities.
This was precisely what did occur. The primitive pantheism was broken
up: in its place the later ages beheld the universe as the arena of
a tremendous conflict between good and evil Powers, who severally,
in the process of time, marshalled each and everything, from a world
to a worm, under their flaming banners.
CHAPTER II.
THE GENESIS OF DEMONS.
Their good names euphemistic--Their mixed character--Illustrations:
Beelzebub, Loki--Demon-germs--The knowledge of good and
evil--Distinction between Demon and Devil.
The first pantheon of each race was built of intellectual
speculations. In a moral sense, each form in it might be described
as more or less demonic; and, indeed, it may almost be affirmed that
religion, considered as a service rendered to superhuman beings,
began with the propitiation of demons, albeit they might be called
gods. Man found that in the earth good things came with difficulty,
while thorns and weeds sprang up everywhere. The evil powers seemed to
be the strongest. The best deity had a touch of the demon in him. The
sun is the most beneficent, yet he bears the sunstroke along with
the sunbeam, and withers the blooms he calls forth. The splendour,
the might, the majesty, the menace, the grandeur and wrath of the
heavens and the elements were blended in these personifications,
and reflected in the trembling adoration paid to them. The flattering
names given to these powers by their worshippers must be interpreted
by the costly sacrifices with which men sought to propitiate them. No
sacrifice would have been offered originally to a purely benevolent
power. The Furies were called the Eumenides, 'the well-meaning,'
and there arises a temptation to regard the name as preserving the
primitive meaning of the Sanskrit original of Erinyes, namely, Saranyu,
which signifies the morning light stealing over the sky. But the
descriptions of the Erinyes by the Greek poets--especially of Æschylus,
who pictures them as black, serpent-locked, with eyes dropping blood,
and calls them hounds--show that Saranyu as morning light, and thus
the revealer of deeds of darkness, had gradually been degraded into
a personification of the Curse. And yet, while recognising the name
Eumenides as euphemistic, we may admire none the less the growth of
that rationalism which ultimately found in the epithet a suggestion of
the soul of good in things evil, and almost restored the beneficent
sense of Saranyu. 'I have settled in this place,' says Athene in the
'Eumenides' of Æschylus, 'these mighty deities, hard to be appeased;
they have obtained by lot to administer all things concerning men. But
he who has not found them gentle knows not whence come the ills of
life.' But before the dread Erinyes of Homer's age had become the
'venerable goddesses' (semnai theai) of popular phrase in Athens,
or the Eumenides of the later poet's high insight, piercing their
Gorgon form as portrayed by himself, they had passed through all the
phases of human terror. Cowering generations had tried to soothe the
remorseless avengers by complimentary phrases. The worship of the
serpent, originating in the same fear, similarly raised that animal
into the region where poets could invest it with many profound and
beautiful significances. But these more distinctly terrible deities
are found in the shadowy border-land of mythology, from which we may
look back into ages when the fear in which worship is born had not yet
been separated into its elements of awe and admiration, nor the heaven
of supreme forces divided into ranks of benevolent and malevolent
beings; and, on the other hand, we may look forward to the ages in
which the moral consciousness of man begins to form the distinctions
between good and evil, right and wrong, which changes cosmogony into
religion, and impresses every deity of the mind's creation to do his
or her part in reflecting the physical and moral struggles of mankind.
The intermediate processes by which the good and evil were detached,
and advanced to separate personification, cannot always be traced, but
the indications of their work are in most cases sufficiently clear. The
relationship, for instance, between Baal and Baal-zebub cannot be
doubted. The one represents the Sun in his glory as quickener of
Nature and painter of its beauty, the other the insect-breeding power
of the Sun. Baal-zebub is the Fly-god. Only at a comparatively recent
period did the deity of the Philistines, whose oracle was consulted
by Ahaziah (2 Kings i.), suffer under the reputation of being 'the
Prince of Devils,' his name being changed by a mere pun to Beelzebul
(dung-god). It is not impossible that the modern Egyptian mother's
hesitation to disturb flies settling on her sleeping child, and the
sanctity attributed to various insects, originated in the awe felt
for him. The title Fly-god is parallelled by the reverent epithet
apomuios, applied to Zeus as worshipped at Elis, [1] the Myiagrus
deus of the Romans, [2] and the Myiodes mentioned by Pliny. [3] Our
picture is probably from a protecting charm, and evidently by the god's
believers. There is a story of a peasant woman in a French church who
was found kneeling before a marble group, and was warned by a priest
that she was worshipping the wrong figure--namely, Beelzebub. 'Never
mind,' she replied, 'it is well enough to have friends on both
sides.' The story, though now only ben trovato, would represent the
actual state of mind in many a Babylonian invoking the protection of
the Fly-god against formidable swarms of his venomous subjects.
Not less clear is the illustration supplied by Scandinavian
mythology. In Sæmund's Edda the evil-minded Loki says:--
Odin! dost thou remember
When we in early days
Blended our blood together?
The two became detached very slowly; for their separation implied
the crumbling away of a great religion, and its distribution into
new forms; and a religion requires, relatively, as long to decay
as it does to grow, as we who live under a crumbling religion have
good reason to know. Protap Chunder Mozoomdar, of the Brahmo-Somaj,
in an address in London, said, 'The Indian Pantheon has many millions
of deities, and no space is left for the Devil.' He might have added
that these deities have distributed between them all the work that
the Devil could perform if he were admitted. His remark recalled to
me the Eddaic story of Loki's entrance into the assembly of gods in
the halls of Oegir. Loki--destined in a later age to be identified
with Satan--is angrily received by the deities, but he goes round
and mentions incidents in the life of each one which show them to be
little if any better than himself. The gods and goddesses, unable to
reply, confirm the cynic's criticisms in theologic fashion by tying
him up with a serpent for cord.
The late Theodore Parker is said to have replied to a Calvinist who
sought to convert him--'The difference between us is simple: your god
is my devil.' There can be little question that the Hebrews, from whom
the Calvinist inherited his deity, had no devil in their mythology,
because the jealous and vindictive Jehovah was quite equal to any
work of that kind,--as the hardening of Pharaoh's heart, bringing
plagues upon the land, or deceiving a prophet and then destroying him
for his false prophecies. [4] The same accommodating relation of the
primitive deities to all natural phenomena will account for the absence
of distinct representatives of evil of the most primitive religions.
The earliest exceptions to this primeval harmony of the gods,
implying moral chaos in man, were trifling enough: the occasional
monster seems worthy of mention only to display the valour of the god
who slew him. But such were demon-germs, born out of the structural
action of the human mind so soon as it began to form some philosophy
concerning a universe upon which it had at first looked with simple
wonder, and destined to an evolution of vast import when the work of
moralising upon them should follow.
Let us take our stand beside our barbarian, but no longer savage,
ancestor in the far past. We have watched the rosy morning as it
waxed to a blazing noon: then swiftly the sun is blotted out, the
tempest rages, it is a sudden night lit only by the forked lightning
that strikes tree, house, man, with angry thunder-peal. From an
instructed age man can look upon the storm blackening the sky not as
an enemy of the sun, but one of its own superlative effects; but some
thousands of years ago, when we were all living in Eastern barbarism,
we could not conceive that a luminary whose very business it was to
give light, could be a party to his own obscuration. We then looked
with pity upon the ignorance of our ancestors, who had sung hymns to
the storm-dragons, hoping to flatter them into quietness; and we came
by irresistible logic to that Dualism which long divided the visible,
and still divides the moral, universe into two hostile camps.
This is the mother-principle out of which demons (in the ordinary
sense of the term) proceeded. At first few, as distinguished from the
host of deities by exceptional harmfulness, they were multiplied with
man's growth in the classification of his world. Their principle of
existence is capable of indefinite expansion, until it shall include
all the realms of darkness, fear, and pain. In the names of demons,
and in the fables concerning them, the struggles of man in his ages of
weakness with peril, want, and death, are recorded more fully than in
any inscriptions on stone. Dualism is a creed which all superficial
appearances attest. Side by side the desert and the fruitful land,
the sunshine and the frost, sorrow and joy, life and death, sit
weaving around every life its vesture of bright and sombre threads,
and Science alone can detect how each of these casts the shuttle
to the other. Enemies to each other they will appear in every realm
which knowledge has not mastered. There is a refrain, gathered from
many ages, in William Blake's apostrophe to the tiger:--
Tiger! tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Framed thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burned that fire within thine eyes?
On what wings dared he aspire?
What the hand dared seize the fire?
When the stars threw down their spears
And water heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?
That which one of the devoutest men of genius whom England has produced
thus asked was silently answered in India by the serpent-worshipper
kneeling with his tongue held in his hand; in Egypt, by Osiris seated
on a throne of chequer. [5]
It is necessary to distinguish clearly between the Demon and the Devil,
though, for some purposes, they must be mentioned together. The world
was haunted with demons for many ages before there was any embodiment
of their spirit in any central form, much less any conception of
a Principle of Evil in the universe. The early demons had no moral
character, not any more than the man-eating tiger. There is no outburst
of moral indignation mingling with the shout of victory when Indra
slays Vritra, and Apollo's face is serene when his dart pierces the
Python. It required a much higher development of the moral sentiment
to give rise to the conception of a devil. Only that intensest light
could cast so black a shadow athwart the world as the belief in a
purely malignant spirit. To such a conception--love of evil for its
own sake--the word Devil is limited in this work; Demon is applied to
beings whose harmfulness is not gratuitous, but incidental to their
own satisfactions.
Deity and Demon are from words once interchangeable, and the latter has
simply suffered degradation by the conventional use of it to designate
the less beneficent powers and qualities, which originally inhered
in every deity, after they were detached from these and separately
personified. Every bright god had his shadow, so to say; and under
the influence of Dualism this shadow attained a distinct existence
and personality in the popular imagination. The principle having
once been established, that what seemed beneficent and what seemed
the reverse must be ascribed to different powers, it is obvious that
the evolution of demons must be continuous, and their distribution
co-extensive with the ills that flesh is heir to.
CHAPTER III.
DEGRADATION.
The degradation of deities--Indicated in names--Legends of their
fall--Incidental signs of the divine origin of demons and devils.
The atmospheric conditions having been prepared in the human mind for
the production of demons, the particular shapes or names they would
assume would be determined by a variety of circumstances, ethnical,
climatic, political, or even accidental. They would, indeed, be rarely
accidental; but Professor Max Müller, in his notes to the Rig-Veda,
has called attention to a remarkable instance in which the formation of
an imposing mythological figure of this kind had its name determined
by what, in all probability, was an accident. There appears in the
earliest Vedic hymns the name of Aditi, as the holy Mother of many
gods, and thrice there is mentioned the female name Diti. But there
is reason to believe that Diti is a mere reflex of Aditi, the a being
dropped originally by a reciter's license. The later reciters, however,
regarding every letter in so sacred a book, or even the omission of a
letter, as of eternal significance, Diti--this decapitated Aditi--was
evolved into a separate and powerful being, and, every niche of
beneficence being occupied by its god or goddess, the new form was at
once relegated to the newly-defined realm of evil, where she remained
as the mother of the enemies of the gods, the Daityas. Unhappily this
accident followed the ancient tendency by which the Furies and Vices
have, with scandalous constancy, been described in the feminine gender.
The close resemblance between these two names of Hindu mythology,
severally representing the best and the worst, may be thus accidental,
and only serve to show how the demon-forming tendency, after it began,
was able to press even the most trivial incidents into its service. But
generally the names of demons, and for whole races of demons, report
far more than this; and in no inquiry more than that before us is it
necessary to remember that names are things. The philological facts
supply a remarkable confirmation of the statements already made
as to the original identity of demon and deity. The word 'demon'
itself, as we have said, originally bore a good instead of an evil
meaning. The Sanskrit deva, 'the shining one,' Zend daêva, correspond
with the Greek theos, Latin deus, Anglo-Saxon Tiw; and remain in
'deity,' 'deuce' (probably; it exists in Armorican, teuz, a phantom),
'devel' (the gipsy name for God), and Persian div, demon. The Demon
of Socrates represents the personification of a being still good, but
no doubt on the path of decline from pure divinity. Plato declares
that good men when they die become 'demons,' and he says 'demons
are reporters and carriers between gods and men.' Our familiar word
bogey, a sort of nickname for an evil spirit, comes from the Slavonic
word for God--bog. Appearing here in the West as bogey (Welsh bwg,
a goblin), this word bog began, probably, as the 'Baga' of cuneiform
inscriptions, a name of the Supreme Being, or possibly the Hindu
'Bhaga,' Lord of Life. In the 'Bishop's Bible' the passage occurs,
'Thou shalt not be afraid of any bugs by night:' the word has been
altered to 'terror.' When we come to the particular names of demons,
we find many of them bearing traces of the splendours from which they
have declined. 'Siva,' the Hindu god of destruction, has a meaning
('auspicious') derived from Svi, 'thrive'--thus related ideally to
Pluto, 'wealth'--and, indeed, in later ages, appears to have gained
the greatest elevation. In a story of the Persian poem Masnavi,
Ahriman is mentioned with Bahman as a fire-fiend, of which class are
the Magian demons and the Jinns generally; which, the sanctity of
fire being considered, is an evidence of their high origin. Avicenna
says that the genii are ethereal animals. Lucifer--light-bearing--is
the fallen angel of the morning star. Loki--the nearest to an evil
power of the Scandinavian personifications--is the German leucht,
or light. Azazel--a word inaccurately rendered 'scape-goat' in the
Bible--appears to have been originally a deity, as the Israelites
were originally required to offer up one goat to Jehovah and
another to Azazel, a name which appears to signify the 'strength
of God.' Gesenius and Ewald regard Azazel as a demon belonging
to the pre-Mosaic religion, but it can hardly be doubted that the
four arch-demons mentioned by the Rabbins--Samaël, Azazel, Asaël,
and Maccathiel--are personifications of the elements as energies
of the deity. Samaël would appear to mean the 'left hand of God;'
Azazel, his strength; Asaël, his reproductive force; and Maccathiel,
his retributive power, but the origin of these names is doubtful..
Although Azazel is now one of the Mussulman names for a devil,
it would appear to be nearly related to Al Uzza of the Koran,
one of the goddesses of whom the significant tradition exists,
that once when Mohammed had read, from the Sura called 'The Star,'
the question, 'What think ye of Allat, Al Uzza, and Manah, that
other third goddess?' he himself added, 'These are the most high
and beauteous damsels, whose intercession is to be hoped for,' the
response being afterwards attributed to a suggestion of Satan. [6]
Belial is merely a word for godlessness; it has become personified
through the misunderstanding of the phrase in the Old Testament by
the translators of the Septuagint, and thus passed into christian
use, as in 2 Cor. vi. 15, 'What concord hath Christ with Belial?' The
word is not used as a proper name in the Old Testament, and the late
creation of a demon out of it may be set down to accident.
Even where the names of demons and devils bear no such traces of
their degradation from the state of deities, there are apt to be
characteristics attributed to them, or myths connected with them,
which point in the direction indicated. Such is the case with Satan,
of whom much must be said hereafter, whose Hebrew name signifies
the adversary, but who, in the Book of Job, appears among the sons
of God. The name given to the devil in the Koran--Eblis--is almost
certainly diabolos Arabicised; and while this Greek word is found
in Pindar [7] (5th century B.C.), meaning a slanderer, the fables
in the Koran concerning Eblis describe him as a fallen angel of the
highest rank.
One of the most striking indications of the fall of demons from heaven
is the wide-spread belief that they are lame. Mr. Tylor has pointed
out the curious persistence of this idea in various ethnical lines of
development. [8] Hephaistos was lamed by his fall when hurled by Zeus
from Olympos; and it is not a little singular that in the English
travesty of limping Vulcan, represented in Wayland the Smith, [9]
there should appear the suggestion, remarked by Mr. Cox, of the name
'Vala' (coverer), one of the designations of the dragon destroyed by
Indra. 'In Sir Walter Scott's romance,' says Mr. Cox, 'Wayland is a
mere impostor, who avails himself of a popular superstition to keep
up an air of mystery about himself and his work, but the character to
which he makes pretence belongs to the genuine Teutonic legend.' [10]
The Persian demon Aeshma--the Asmodeus of the Book of Tobit--appears
with the same characteristic of lameness in the 'Diable Boiteux'
of Le Sage. The christian devil's clubbed or cloven foot is notorious.
Even the horns popularly attributed to the devil may possibly have
originated with the aureole which indicates the glory of his 'first
estate.' Satan is depicted in various relics of early art wearing the
aureole, as in a miniature of the tenth century (from Bible No. 6,
Bib. Roy.), given by M. Didron. [11] The same author has shown that
Pan and the Satyrs, who had so much to do with the shaping of our
horned and hoofed devil, originally got their horns from the same
high source as Moses in the old Bibles, [12] and in the great statue
of him at Rome by Michel Angelo.
It is through this mythologic history that the most powerful
demons have been associated in the popular imagination with stars,
planets,--Ketu in India, Saturn and Mercury the 'Infortunes,'--comets,
and other celestial phenomena. The examples of this are so numerous
that it is impossible to deal with them here, where I can only hope
to offer a few illustrations of the principles affirmed; and in this
case it is of less importance for the English reader, because of the
interesting volume in which the subject has been specially dealt
with. [13] Incidentally, too, the astrological demons and devils
must recur from time to time in the process of our inquiry. But it
will probably be within the knowledge of some of my readers that the
dread of comets and of meteoric showers yet lingers in many parts
of Christendom, and that fear of unlucky stars has not passed away
with astrologers. There is a Scottish legend told by Hugh Miller
of an avenging meteoric demon. A shipmaster who had moored his
vessel near Morial's Den, amused himself by watching the lights
of the scattered farmhouses. After all the rest had gone out one
light lingered for some time. When that light too had disappeared,
the shipmaster beheld a large meteor, which, with a hissing noise,
moved towards the cottage. A dog howled, an owl whooped; but when
the fire-ball had almost reached the roof, a cock crew from within
the cottage, and the meteor rose again. Thrice this was repeated,
the meteor at the third cock-crow ascending among the stars. On the
following day the shipmaster went on shore, purchased the cock, and
took it away with him. Returned from his voyage, he looked for the
cottage, and found nothing but a few blackened stones. Nearly sixty
years ago a human skeleton was found near the spot, doubled up as
if the body had been huddled into a hole: this revived the legend,
and probably added some of those traits which make it a true bit of
mosaic in the mythology of Astræa. [14]
The fabled 'fall of Lucifer' really signifies a process similar to
that which has been noticed in the case of Saranyu. The morning star,
like the morning light, as revealer of the deeds of darkness, becomes
an avenger, and by evolution an instigator of the evil it originally
disclosed and punished. It may be remarked also that though we have
inherited the phrase 'Demons of Darkness,' it was an ancient rabbinical
belief that the demons went abroad in darkness not only because it
facilitated their attacks on man, but because being of luminous forms,
they could recognise each other better with a background of darkness.
CHAPTER IV.
THE ABGOTT.
The ex-god--Deities demonised by conquest--Theological animosity
--Illustration from the Avesta--Devil-worship an arrested Deism--
Sheik Adi--Why demons were painted ugly--Survivals of their beauty.
The phenomena of the transformation of deities into demons meet the
student of Demonology at every step. We shall have to consider many
examples of a kind similar to those which have been mentioned in the
preceding chapter; but it is necessary to present at this stage of our
inquiry a sufficient number of examples to establish the fact that in
every country forces have been at work to degrade the primitive gods
into types of evil, as preliminary to a consideration of the nature
of those forces.
We find the history of the phenomena suggested in the German word for
idol, Abgott--ex-god. Then we have 'pagan,' villager, and 'heathen,' of
the heath, denoting those who stood by their old gods after others had
transferred their faith to the new. These words bring us to consider
the influence upon religious conceptions of the struggles which have
occurred between races and nations, and consequently between their
religions. It must be borne in mind that by the time any tribes had
gathered to the consistency of a nation, one of the strongest forces of
its coherence would be its priesthood. So soon as it became a general
belief that there were in the universe good and evil Powers, there
must arise a popular demand for the means of obtaining their favour;
and this demand has never failed to obtain a supply of priesthoods
claiming to bind or influence the præternatural beings. These
priesthoods represent the strongest motives and fears of a people,
and they were gradually intrenched in great institutions involving
powerful interests. Every invasion or collision or mingling of races
thus brought their respective religions into contact and rivalry;
and as no priesthood has been known to consent peaceably to its own
downfall and the degradation of its own deities, we need not wonder
that there have been perpetual wars for religious ascendency. It
is not unusual to hear sects among ourselves accusing each other
of idolatry. In earlier times the rule was for each religion to
denounce its opponent's gods as devils. Gregory the Great wrote
to his missionary in Britain, the Abbot Mellitus, second Bishop of
Canterbury, that 'whereas the people were accustomed to sacrifice
many oxen in honour of demons, let them celebrate a religious and
solemn festival, and not slay the animals to the devil (diabolo),
but to be eaten by themselves to the glory of God.' Thus the devotion
of meats to those deities of our ancestors which the Pope pronounces
demons, which took place chiefly at Yule-tide, has survived in our
more comfortable Christmas banquets. This was the fate of all the
deities which Christianity undertook to suppress. But it had been the
habit of religions for many ages before. They never denied the actual
existence of the deities they were engaged in suppressing. That would
have been too great an outrage upon popular beliefs, and might have
caused a reaction; and, besides, each new religion had an interest
of its own in preserving the basis of belief in these invisible
beings. Disbelief in the very existence of the old gods might be
followed by a sceptical spirit that might endanger the new. So the
propagandists maintained the existence of native gods, but called
them devils. Sometimes wars or intercourse between tribes led to their
fusion; the battle between opposing religions was drawn, in which case
there would be a compromise by which several deities of different
origin might continue together in the same race and receive equal
homage. The differing degrees of importance ascribed to the separate
persons of the Hindu triad in various localities of India, suggest
it as quite probable that Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva signalled in their
union the political unity of certain districts in that country. [15]
The blending of the names of Confucius and Buddha, in many Chinese
and Japanese temples, may show us an analogous process now going on,
and, indeed, the various ethnical ideas combined in the christian
Trinity render the fact stated one of easy interpretation. But the
religious difficulty was sometimes not susceptible of compromise. The
most powerful priesthood carried the day, and they used every ingenuity
to degrade the gods of their opponents. Agathodemons were turned into
kakodemons. The serpent, worshipped in many lands, might be adopted
as the support of sleeping Vishnu in India, might be associated with
the rainbow ('the heavenly serpent') in Persia, but elsewhere was
cursed as the very genius of evil.
The operation of this force in the degradation of deities, is
particularly revealed in the Sacred Books of Persia. In that country
the great religions of the East would appear to have contended
against each other with especial fury, and their struggles were
probably instrumental in causing one or more of the early migrations
into Western Europe. The great celestial war between Ormuzd and
Ahriman--Light and Darkness--corresponded with a violent theological
conflict, one result of which is that the word deva, meaning 'deity'
to Brahmans, means 'devil' to Parsees. The following extract from
the Zend-Avesta will serve as an example of the spirit in which the
war was waged:--
'All your devas are only manifold children of the Evil Mind--and the
great one who worships the Saoma of lies and deceits; besides the
treacherous acts for which you are notorious throughout the seven
regions of the earth.
'You have invented all the evil which men speak and do, which is
indeed pleasant to the Devas, but is devoid of all goodness, and
therefore perishes before the insight of the truth of the wise.
'Thus you defraud men of their good minds and of their immortality
by your evil minds--as well through those of the Devas as that of the
Evil Spirit--through evil deeds and evil words, whereby the power of
liars grows.' [16]
That is to say--Ours is the true god: your god is a devil.
The Zoroastrian conversion of deva (deus) into devil does not
alone represent the work of this odium theologicum. In the early
hymns of India the appellation asuras is given to the gods. Asura
means a spirit. But in the process of time asura, like dæmon, came
to have a sinister meaning: the gods were called suras, the demons
asuras, and these were said to contend together. But in Persia the
asuras--demonised in India--retained their divinity, and gave the name
ahura to the supreme deity, Ormuzd (Ahura-mazda). On the other hand,
as Mr. Muir supposes, Varenya, applied to evil spirits of darkness in
the Zendavesta, is cognate with Varuna (Heaven); and the Vedic Indra,
king of the gods--the Sun--is named in the Zoroastrian religion as
one of the chief councillors of that Prince of Darkness.
But in every country conquered by a new religion, there will always be
found some, as we have seen, who will hold on to the old deity under
all his changed fortunes. These will be called 'bigots,' but still they
will adhere to the ancient belief and practise the old rites. Sometimes
even after they have had to yield to the popular terminology, and call
the old god a devil, they will find some reason for continuing the
transmitted forms. It is probable that to this cause was originally
due the religions which have been developed into what is now termed
Devil-worship. The distinct and avowed worship of the evil Power in
preference to the good is a rather startling phenomenon when presented
baldly; as, for example, in a prayer of the Madagascans to Nyang,
author of evil, quoted by Dr. Réville:--'O Zamhor! to thee we offer no
prayers. The good god needs no asking. But we must pray to Nyang. Nyang
must be appeased. O Nyang, bad and strong spirit, let not the thunder
roar over our heads! Tell the sea to keep within its bounds! Spare,
O Nyang, the ripening fruit, and dry not up the blossoming rice! Let
not our women bring forth children on the accursed days. Thou reignest,
and this thou knowest, over the wicked; and great is their number,
O Nyang. Torment not, then, any longer the good folk!' [17]
This is natural, and suggestive of the criminal under sentence of
death, who, when asked if he was not afraid to meet his God, replied,
'Not in the least; it's that other party I'm afraid of.' Yet it
is hardly doubtful that the worship of Nyang began in an era when
he was by no means considered morally baser than Zamhor. How the
theory of Dualism, when attained, might produce the phenomenon
called Devil-worship, is illustrated in the case of the Yezedis, now
so notorious for that species of religion. Their theory is usually
supposed to be entirely represented by the expression uttered by one
of them, 'Will not Satan, then, reward the poor Izedis, who alone have
never spoken ill of him, and have suffered so much for him?' [18]
But these words are significant, no doubt, of the underlying fact:
they 'have never spoken ill of' the Satan they worship. The Mussulman
calls the Yezedi a Satan-worshipper only as the early Zoroastrian held
the worshipper of a deva to be the same. The chief object of worship
among the Yezedis is the figure of the bird Taous, a half-mythical
peacock. Professor King of Cambridge traces the Taous of this Assyrian
sect to the "sacred bird called a phoenix," whose picture, as seen
by Herodotus (ii. 73) in Egypt, is described by him as 'very like an
eagle in outline and in size, but with plumage partly gold-coloured,
partly crimson,' and which was said to return to Heliopolis every
five hundred years, there to burn itself on the altar of the Sun,
that another might rise from its ashes. [19] Now the name Yezedis
is simply Izeds, genii; and we are thus pointed to Arabia, where we
find the belief in genii is strongest, and also associated with the
mythical bird Rokh of its folklore. There we find Mohammed rebuking
the popular belief in a certain bird called Hamâh, which was said to
take form from the blood near the brain of a dead person and fly away,
to return, however, at the end of every hundred years to visit that
person's sepulchre. But this is by no means Devil-worship, nor can we
find any trace of that in the most sacred scripture of the Yezedis,
the 'Eulogy of Sheikh Adi.' This Sheikh inherited from his father,
Moosafir, the sanctity of an incarnation of the divine essence,
of which he (Adi) speaks as 'the All-merciful.'
By his light he hath lighted the lamp of the morning.
I am he that placed Adam in my Paradise.
I am he that made Nimrod a hot burning fire.
I am he that guided Ahmet mine elect,
I gifted him with my way and guidance.
Mine are all existences together,
They are my gift and under my direction.
I am he that possesseth all majesty,
And beneficence and charity are from my grace,
I am he that entereth the heart in my zeal;
And I shine through the power of my awfulness and majesty.
I am he to whom the lion of the desert came:
I rebuked him and he became like stone.
I am he to whom the serpent came,
And by my will I made him like dust.
I am he that shook the rock and made it tremble,
And sweet water flowed therefrom from every side. [20]
The reverence shown in these sacred sentences for Hebrew names and
traditions--as of Adam in Paradise, Marah, and the smitten rock--and
for Ahmet (Mohammed), appears to have had its only requital in the
odious designation of the worshippers of Taous as Devil-worshippers,
a label which the Yezedis perhaps accepted as the Wesleyans and
Friends accepted such names as 'Methodist' and 'Quaker.'
Mohammed has expiated the many deities he degraded to devils by being
himself turned to an idol (mawmet), a term of contempt all the more
popular for its resemblance to 'mummery.' Despite his denunciations
of idolatry, it is certain that this earlier religion represented
by the Yezedis has never been entirely suppressed even among his own
followers. In Dr. Leitner's interesting collection there is a lamp,
which he obtained from a mosque, made in the shape of a peacock,
and this is but one of many similar relics of primitive or alien
symbolism found among the Mussulman tribes.
The evolution of demons and devils out of deities was made real to
the popular imagination in every country where the new religion found
art existing, and by alliance with it was enabled to shape the ideas
of the people. The theoretical degradation of deities of previously
fair association could only be completed where they were presented to
the eye in repulsive forms. It will readily occur to every one that a
rationally conceived demon or devil would not be repulsive. If it were
a demon that man wished to represent, mere euphemism would prevent its
being rendered odious. The main characteristic of a demon--that which
distinguishes it from a devil--is, as we have seen, that it has a real
and human-like motive for whatever evil it causes. If it afflict or
consume man, it is not from mere malignancy, but because impelled by
the pangs of hunger, lust, or other suffering, like the famished wolf
or shark. And if sacrifices of food were offered to satisfy its need,
equally we might expect that no unnecessary insult would be offered in
the attempt to portray it. But if it were a devil--a being actuated
by simple malevolence--one of its essential functions, temptation,
would be destroyed by hideousness. For the work of seduction we might
expect a devil to wear the form of an angel of light, but by no means
to approach his intended victim in any horrible shape, such as would
repel every mortal. The great representations of evil, whether imagined
by the speculative or the religious sense, have never been, originally,
ugly. The gods might be described as falling swiftly like lightning
out of heaven, but in the popular imagination they retained for a long
time much of their splendour. The very ingenuity with which they were
afterwards invested with ugliness in religious art, attests that there
were certain popular sentiments about them which had to be distinctly
reversed. It was because they were thought beautiful that they must be
painted ugly; it was because they were--even among converts to the new
religion--still secretly believed to be kind and helpful, that there
was employed such elaboration of hideous designs to deform them. The
pictorial representations of demons and devils will come under a more
detailed examination hereafter: it is for the present sufficient to
point out that the traditional blackness or ugliness of demons and
devils, as now thought of, by no means militates against the fact
that they were once the popular deities. The contrast, for instance,
between the horrible physiognomy given to Satan in ordinary christian
art, and the theological representation of him as the Tempter, is
obvious. Had the design of Art been to represent the theological
theory, Satan would have been portrayed in a fascinating form. But
the design was not that; it was to arouse horror and antipathy for
the native deities to which the ignorant clung tenaciously. It was
to train children to think of the still secretly-worshipped idols
as frightful and bestial beings. It is important, therefore, that we
should guard against confusing the speculative or moral attempts of
mankind to personify pain and evil with the ugly and brutal demons and
devils of artificial superstition, oftenest pictured on church walls.
Sometimes they are set to support water-spouts, often the brackets
that hold their foes, the saints. It is a very ancient device. Our
figure 2 is from the handle of a chalice in possession of Sir James
Hooker, meant probably to hold the holy water of Ganges. These are
not genuine demons or devils, but carefully caricatured deities. Who
that looks upon the grinning bestial forms carved about the roof of any
old church--as those on Melrose Abbey and York Cathedral [21]--which,
there is reason to believe, represent the primitive deities driven from
the interior by potency of holy water, and chained to the uncongenial
service of supporting the roof-gutter--can see in these gargoyles
(Fr. gargouille, dragon), anything but carved imprecations? Was it
to such ugly beings, guardians of their streams, hills, and forests,
that our ancestors consecrated the holly and mistletoe, or with such
that they associated their flowers, fruits, and homes? They were
caricatures inspired by missionaries, made to repel and disgust, as
the images of saints beside them were carved in beauty to attract. If
the pagans had been the artists, the good looks would have been on
the other side. And indeed there was an art of which those pagans
were the unconscious possessors, through which the true characters of
the imaginary beings they adored have been transmitted to us. In the
fables of their folklore we find the Fairies that represent the spirit
of the gods and goddesses to which they are easily traceable. That
goddess who in christian times was pictured as a hag riding on a
broom-stick was Frigga, the Earth-mother, associated with the first
sacred affections clustering around the hearth; or Freya, whose very
name was consecrated in frau, woman and wife. The mantle of Bertha did
not cover more tenderness when it fell to the shoulders of Mary. The
German child's name for the pre-christian Madonna was Mother Rose:
distaff in hand, she watched over the industrious at their household
work: she hovered near the cottage, perhaps to find there some weeping
Cinderella and give her beauty for ashes.
CHAPTER V.
CLASSIFICATION.
The obstructions of man--The twelve chief classes--Modifications
of particular forms for various functions--Theological demons.
The statements made concerning the fair names of the chief demons
and devils which have haunted the imagination of mankind, heighten
the contrast between their celestial origin and the functions
attributed to them in their degraded forms. The theory of Dualism,
representing a necessary stage in the mental development of every
race, called for a supply of demons, and the supply came from the
innumerable dethroned, outlawed, and fallen deities and angels which
had followed the subjugation of races and their religions. But though
their celestial origin might linger around them in some slight legend
or characteristic as well as in their names, the evil phenomenon to
which each was attached as an explanation assigned the real form and
work with which he or she was associated in popular superstition. We
therefore find in the demons in which men have believed a complete
catalogue of the obstacles with which they have had to contend in the
long struggle for existence. In the devils we discover equally the
history of the moral and religious struggles through which priesthoods
and churches have had to pass. And the relative extent of this or
that particular class of demons or devils, and the intensity of
belief in any class as shown in the number of survivals from it,
will be found to reflect pretty faithfully the degree to which the
special evil represented by it afflicted primitive man, as attested
by other branches of pre-historic investigation.
As to function, the demons we shall have to consider are those
representing--1. Hunger; 2. Excessive Heat; 3. Excessive Cold;
4. Destructive elements and physical convulsions; 5. Destructive
animals; 6. Human enemies; 7. The Barrenness of the Earth, as rock and
desert; 8. Obstacles, as the river or mountain; 9. Illusion, seductive,
invisible, and mysterious agents, causing delusions; 10. Darkness
(especially when unusual), Dreams, Nightmare; 11. Disease; 12. Death.
These classes are selected, in obedience to necessary limitations,
as representing the twelve chief labours of man which have given
shape to the majority of his haunting demons, as distinguished from
his devils. Of course all classifications of this character must be
understood as made for convenience, and the divisions are not to be
too sharply taken. What Plotinus said of the gods, that each contained
all the rest, is equally true of both demons and devils. The demons
of Hunger are closely related to the demons of Fire: Agni devoured
his parents (two sticks consumed by the flame they produce); and
from them we pass easily to elemental demons, like the lightning,
or demons of fever. And similarly we find a relationship between
other destructive forces. Nevertheless, the distinctions drawn are
not fanciful, but exist in clear and unmistakable beliefs as to the
special dispositions and employments of demons; and as we are not
engaged in dealing with natural phenomena, but with superstitions
concerning them, the only necessity of this classification is that
it shall not be arbitrary, but shall really simplify the immense mass
of facts which the student of Demonology has to encounter.
But there are several points which require especial attention as
preliminary to a consideration of these various classes of demons.
First, it is to be borne in mind that a single demonic form will often
appear in various functions, and that these must not be confused. The
serpent may represent the lightning, or the coil of the whirlwind, or
fatal venom; the earthquake may represent a swallowing Hunger-demon,
or the rage of a chained giant. The separate functions must not be
lost sight of because sometimes traceable to a single form, nor their
practical character suffer disguise through their fair euphemistic
or mythological names.
Secondly, the same form appears repeatedly in a diabolic as well as
a demonic function, and here a clear distinction must be maintained
in the reader's mind. The distinction already taken between a demon
and a devil is not arbitrary: the word demon is related to deity;
the word devil, though sometimes connected with the Sanskrit deva,
has really no relation to it, but has a bad sense as 'calumniator:'
but even if there were no such etymological identity and difference,
it would be necessary to distinguish such widely separate offices as
those representing the afflictive forces of nature where attributed
to humanly appreciable motives on the one hand, and evils ascribed to
pure malignancy or a principle of evil on the other. The Devil may,
indeed, represent a further evolution in the line on which the Demon
has appeared; Ahriman the Bad in conflict with Ormuzd the Good may
be a spiritualisation of the conflict between Light and Darkness, Sun
and Cloud, as represented in the Vedic Indra and Vritra; but the two
phases represent different classes of ideas, indeed different worlds,
and the apprehension of both requires that they shall be carefully
distinguished even when associated with the same forms and names.
Thirdly, there is an important class of demons which the reader
may expect to find fully treated of in the part of my work more
particularly devoted to Demonology, which must be deferred, or further
traced in that portion relating to the Devil; they are forms which in
their original conception were largely beneficent, and have become of
evil repute mainly through the anathema of theology. The chequer-board
on which Osiris sat had its development in hosts of primitive shapes of
light opposing shapes of darkness. The evil of some of these is ideal;
others are morally amphibious: Teraphim, Lares, genii, were ancestors
of the guardian angels and patron saints of the present day; they were
oftenest in the shapes of dogs and cats and aged human ancestors,
supposed to keep watch and ward about the house, like the friendly
Domovoi respected in Russia; the evil disposition and harmfulness
ascribed to them are partly natural but partly also theological,
and due to the difficulty of superseding them with patron saints and
angels. The degradation of beneficent beings, already described in
relation to large demonic and diabolic forms, must be understood as
constantly acting in the smallest details of household superstition,
with what strange reaction and momentous result will appear when we
come to consider the phenomena of Witchcraft.
Finally, it must be remarked that the nature of our inquiry renders
the consideration of the origin of myths--whether 'solar' or other--of
secondary importance. Such origin it will be necessary to point out
and discuss incidentally, but our main point will always be the forms
in which the myths have become incarnate, and their modifications
in various places and times, these being the result of those actual
experiences with which Demonology is chiefly concerned. A myth, as
many able writers have pointed out, is, in its origin, an explanation
by the uncivilised mind of some natural phenomenon--not an allegory,
not an esoteric conceit. For this reason it possesses fluidity, and
takes on manifold shapes. The apparent sleep of the sun in winter
may be represented in a vast range of myths, from the Seven Sleepers
to the Man in the Moon of our nursery rhyme; but the variations all
have relation to facts and circumstances. Comparative Mythology is
mainly concerned with the one thread running through them, and binding
them all to the original myth; the task of Demonology is rather to
discover the agencies which have given their several shapes. If it be
shown that Orthros and Cerberus were primarily the morning and evening
twilight or howling winds, either interpretation is here secondary to
their personification as dogs. Demonology would ask, Why dogs? why
not bulls? Its answer in each case detaches from the anterior myth
its mode, and shows this as the determining force of further myths.
PART II.
THE DEMON.
CHAPTER I.
HUNGER.
Hunger-demons--Kephn--Miru--Kagura--Ráhu the Hindu
sun-devourer--The earth monster at Pelsall--A Franconian
custom--Sheitan as moon-devourer--Hindu offerings to the
dead--Ghoul--Goblin--Vampyres--Leanness of demons--Old Scotch
custom.--The origin of sacrifices.
In every part of the earth man's first struggle was for his daily
food. With only a rude implement of stone or bone he had to get fish
from the sea, bird from the air, beast from the forest. For ages,
with such poor equipment, he had to wring a precarious livelihood from
nature. He saw, too, every living form around him similarly trying to
satisfy its hunger. There seemed to be a Spirit of Hunger abroad. And,
at the same time, there was such a resistance to man's satisfaction
of his need--the bird and fish so hard to get, the stingy earth so
ready to give him a stone when he asked for bread--that he came to the
conclusion that there must be invisible voracious beings who wanted all
good things for themselves. So the ancient world was haunted by a vast
brood of Hunger-demons. There is an African tribe, the Karens, whose
representation of the Devil (Kephn) is a huge stomach floating through
the air; and this repulsive image may be regarded as the type of nearly
half the demons which have haunted the human imagination. This, too,
is the terrible Miru, with her daughters and slave, haunting the South
Sea Islander. 'The esoteric doctrine of the priests was, that souls
leave the body ere breath has quite gone, and travel to the edge of
a cliff facing the setting sun (Ra). A large wave now approaches the
base of the cliff, and a gigantic bua tree, covered with fragrant
blossoms, springs up from Avaiki (nether world) to receive on its
far-reaching branches human spirits, who are mysteriously impelled to
cluster on its limbs. When at length the mystic tree is covered with
human spirits, it goes down with its living freight to the nether
world. Akaanga, the slave of fearful Miru, mistress of the invisible
world, infallibly catches all these unhappy spirits in his net and
laves them to and fro in a lake. In these waters the captive ghosts
exhaust themselves by wriggling about like fishes, in the vain hope of
escape. The net is pulled up, and the half-drowned spirits enter into
the presence of dread Miru, who is ugliness personified. The secret
of Miru's power over her intended victims is the 'kava' root (Piper
mythisticum). A bowl of this drink is prepared for each visitor to the
shades by her four lovely daughters. Stupefied with the draught, the
unresisting victims are borne off to a mighty oven and cooked. Miru,
her peerless daughters, her dance-loving son, and the attendants,
subsist exclusively on human spirits decoyed to the nether world
and then cooked. The drinking-cups of Miru are the skulls of her
victims. She is called in song 'Miru-the-ruddy,' because her cheeks
ever glow with the heat of the oven where her captives are cooked. As
the surest way to Miru's oven is to die a natural death, one need not
marvel that the Rev. Mr. Gill, who made these statements before the
Anthropological Institute in London (February 8, 1876), had heard
'many anecdotes of aged warriors, scarcely able to hold a spear,
insisting on being led to the field of battle in the hope of gaining
the house of the brave.' As the South Sea paradise seems to consist
in an eternal war-dance, or, in one island, in an eternal chewing
of sugar-cane, it is not unlikely that the aged seek violent death
chiefly to avoid the oven. We have here a remarkable illustration of
the distinguishing characteristic of the demon. Fearful as Miru is,
it may be noted that there is not one gratuitous element of cruelty
in her procedure. On the contrary, she even provides her victims
with an anæsthetic draught. Her prey is simply netted, washed, and
cooked, as for man are his animal inferiors. In one of the islands
(Aitutaki), Miru is believed to resort to a device which is certainly
terrible--namely, the contrivance that each soul entering the nether
world shall drink a bowl of living centipedes; but this is simply
with the one end in view of appeasing her own pangs of hunger, for
the object and effect of the draught is to cause the souls to drown
themselves, it being apparently only after entire death that they
can be cooked and devoured by Miru and her household.
Fortunately for the islanders, Miru is limited in her tortures to
a transmundane sphere, and room is left for many a slip between
her dreadful cup and the human lip. The floating stomach Kephn is,
however, not other-worldly. We see, however, a softened form of him
in some other tribes. The Greenlanders, Finns, Laps, conceived the
idea that there is a large paunch-demon which people could invoke to
go and suck the cows or consume the herds of their enemies; and the
Icelanders have a superstition that some people can construct such a
demon out of bones and skins, and send him forth to transmute the milk
or flesh of cattle into a supply of flesh and blood. A form of this
kind is represented in the Japanese Kagura (figure 3), the favourite
mask of January dancers and drum-beaters seeking money. The Kagura
is in precise contrast with the Pretas (Siam), which, though twelve
miles in height, are too thin to be seen, their mouths being so small
as to render it impossible to satisfy their fearful hunger.
The pot-bellies given to demons in Travancore and other districts
of India, and the blood-sacrifices by which the natives propitiate
them--concerning which a missionary naively remarks, that even these
heathen recognise, though in corrupted form, 'the great truth that
without shedding of blood there is no remission of sins' [22]--refer
to the Hunger-demon. They are the brood of Kali, girt round with
human skulls.
The expedition which went out to India to observe the last solar
eclipse was incidentally the means of calling attention to a
remarkable survival of the Hunger-demon in connection with astronomic
phenomena. While the English observers were arranging their apparatus,
the natives prepared a pile of brushwood, and, so soon as the eclipse
began, they set fire to this pile and began to shout and yell as they
danced around it. Not less significant were the popular observances
generally. There was a semi-holiday in honour of the eclipse. The
ghauts were crowded with pious worshippers. No Hindu, it is thought,
ought to do any work whatever during an eclipse, and there was a
general tendency to prolong the holiday a little beyond the exact
time when the shadow disappears, and indeed to prolong it throughout
the day. All earthenware vessels used for cooking were broken, and all
cooked food in the houses at the time of the eclipse was thrown out. It
is regarded as a time of peculiar blessings if taken in the right way,
and of dread consequences to persons inclined to heterodoxy or neglect
of the proper observances. Between nine and ten in the evening two
shocks of an earthquake occurred, the latter a rather unpleasant one,
shaking the tables and doors in an uncomfortable fashion for several
seconds. To the natives it was no surprise--they believe firmly in
the connection of eclipses and earthquakes. [23]
Especially notable is the breaking of their culinary utensils by
the Hindus during an eclipse. In Copenhagen there is a collection
of the votive weapons of ancient Norsemen, every one broken as it
was offered up to the god of their victory in token of good faith,
lest they should be suspected of any intention to use again what they
had given away. For the same reason the cup was offered--broken--with
the libation. The Northman felt himself in the presence of the Jötunn
(giants), whose name Grimm identifies as the Eaters. For the Hindu of
to-day the ceremonies appropriate at an eclipse, however important,
have probably as little rational meaning as the occasional Belfire
that lights up certain dark corners of Europe has for those who build
it. But the traditional observances have come up from the childhood
of the world, when the eclipse represented a demon devouring the sun,
who was to have his attention called by outcries and prayers to the
fact that if it was fire he needed there was plenty on earth; and if
food, he might have all in their houses, provided he would consent
to satisfy his appetite with articles of food less important than
the luminaries of heaven.
Such is the shape now taken in India of the ancient myth of the
eclipse. When at the churning of the ocean to find the nectar of
immortality, a demon with dragon-tail was tasting that nectar, the sun
and moon told on him, but not until his head had become immortal; and
it is this head of Ráhu which seeks now to devour the informers--the
Sun and Moon. [24] Mythologically, too, this Ráhu has been divided;
for we shall hereafter trace the dragon-tail of him to the garden of
Eden and in the christian devil, whereas in India he has been improved
from a vindictive to a merely voracious demon.
The fires kindled by the Hindus to frighten Ráhu on his latest
appearance might have defeated the purpose of the expedition by the
smoke it was sending up, had not two officers leaped upon the fire
and scattered its fuel; but just about the time when these courageous
gentlemen were trampling out the fires of superstition whose smoke
would obscure the vision of science, an event occurred in England
which must be traced to the same ancient belief--the belief, namely,
that when anything is apparently swallowed up, as the sun and moon
by an eclipse, or a village by earthquake or flood, it is the work
of a hungry dragon, earthworm, or other monster. The Pelsall mine
was flooded, and a large number of miners drowned. When the accident
became known in the village, the women went out with the families of
the unfortunate men, and sat beside the mouth of the flooded pit,
at the bottom of which the dead bodies yet remained. These women
then yelled down the pit with voices very different from ordinary
lamentation. They also refused unanimously to taste food of any kind,
saying, when pressed to do so, that so long as they could refrain from
eating, their husbands might still be spared to them. When, finally,
one poor woman, driven by the pangs of hunger, was observed to eat a
crust of bread, the cries ceased, and the women, renouncing all hope,
proceeded in silent procession to their homes in Pelsall.
The Hindu people casting their food out of the window during
an eclipse, the Pelsall wives refusing to eat when the mine is
flooded, are acting by force of immemorial tradition, and so are
doing unconsciously what the African woman does consciously when she
surrounds the bed of her sick husband with rice and meat, and beseeches
the demon to devour them instead of the man. To the same class of
notions belong the old custom of trying to discover the body of one
drowned by means of a loaf of bread with a candle stuck in it, which
it was said would pause above the body, and the body might be made to
appear by firing a gun over it--that is, the demon holding it would be
frightened off. A variant, too, is the Persian custom of protecting a
woman in parturition by spreading a table, with a lamp at each corner,
with seven kinds of fruits and seven different aromatic seeds upon it.
In 1769, when Pennant made his 'Scottish Tour,' he found fully
observed in the Highlands the ceremony of making the Beltane Cake on
the first of May, and dedicating its distributed fragments to birds
and beasts of prey, with invocation to the dread being of whom they
were the supposed agents to spare the herds. Demons especially love
milk: the Lambton Worm required nine cows' milk daily; and Jerome
mentions a diabolical baby which exhausted six nurses.
The Devil nominally inherits, among the peasantry of Christendom, the
attributes of the demons which preceded him; but it must be understood
that in every case where mere voracity is ascribed to the Devil, a
primitive demon is meant, and of this fact the superstitious peasant
is dimly conscious. In Franconia, when a baker is about to put dough
biscuits into an oven to be baked, he will first throw half-a-dozen of
them into the fire, saying, 'There, poor devil! those are for you.' If
pressed for an explanation, he will admit his fear that but for this
offering his biscuits are in danger of coming out burnt; but that the
'poor devil' is not bad-hearted, only driven by his hunger to make
mischief. The being he fears is, therefore, clearly not the Devil at
all--whose distinction is a love of wickedness for its own sake--but
the half-starved gobbling ghosts of whom, in Christian countries,
'Devil' has become the generic name. Of their sacrifices, Grace before
meat is a remnant. In Moslem countries, however, 'Sheitan' combines the
demonic and the malignant voracities. During the late lunar eclipse,
the inhabitants of Pera and Constantinople fired guns over their houses
to drive 'Sheitan' (Satan) away from the moon, for, whoever the foe,
the Turk trusts in gunpowder. But superstitions representing Satan
as a devourer are becoming rare. In the church of Nôtre Dame at Hal,
Belgium, the lectern shows a dragon attempting to swallow the Bible,
which is supported on the back of an eagle.
There is another and much more formidable form in which the
Hunger-demon appears in Demonology. The fondness for blood, so
characteristic of supreme gods, was distributed as a special thirst
through a large class of demons. In the legend of Ishtar descending
to Hades [25] to seek some beloved one, she threatens if the door be
not opened--
I will raise the dead to be devourers of the living!
Upon the living shall the dead prey!
This menace shows that the Chaldæan and Babylonian belief in the
vampyre, called Akhkharu in Assyrian, was fully developed at a very
early date. Although the Hunger-demon was very fully developed in
India, it does not appear to have been at any time so cannibalistic,
possibly because the natives were not great flesh-eaters. In some
cases, indeed, we meet with the vampyre superstition; as in the story
of Vikram and the Vampyre, and in the Tamil drama of Harichándra,
where the frenzied Sandramáti says to the king, 'I belong to the
race of elves, and I have killed thy child in order that I might
feed on its delicate flesh.' Such expressions are rare enough to
warrant suspicion of their being importations. The Vetala's appetite
is chiefly for corpses. The poor hungry demons of India--such as the
Bhút, a dismal, ravenous ghost, dreaded at the moon-wane of the month
Katik (Oct.-Nov.)--was not supposed to devour man, but only man's
food. The Hindu demons of this class may be explained by reference
to the sráddha, or oblation to ancestors, concerning which we read
directions in the Manu Code. 'The ancestors of men are satisfied a
whole month with tila, rice, &c.; two months with fish, &c. The Manes
say, Oh, may that man be born in our line who may give us milky food,
with honey and pure butter, both on the thirteenth of the moon and
when the shadow of an elephant falls to the east!' The bloodthirsty
demons of India have pretty generally been caught up like Kali into
a higher symbolism, and their voracity systematised and satisfied in
sacrificial commutations. The popular belief in the southern part of
that country is indicated by Professor Monier Williams, in a letter
written from Southern India, wherein he remarks that the devils alone
require propitiation. It is generally a simple procedure, performed
by offerings of food or other articles supposed to be acceptable
to disembodied beings. For example, when a certain European, once a
terror to the district in which he lived, died in the South of India,
the natives were in the constant habit of depositing brandy and cigars
on his tomb to propitiate his spirit, supposed to roam about the
neighbourhood in a restless manner, and with evil proclivities. The
very same was done to secure the good offices of the philanthropic
spirit of a great European sportsman, who, when he was alive, delivered
his district from the ravages of tigers. Indeed all evil spirits
are thought to be opposed by good ones, who, if duly propitiated,
make it their business to guard the inhabitants of particular places
from demonic intruders. Each district, and even every village, has
its guardian genius, often called its Mother. [26]
Such ideas as these are represented in Europe in some varieties of
the Kobold and the Goblin (Gk. kobalos). Though the goblin must,
according to folk-philosophy, be fed with nice food, it is not
a deadly being; on the contrary, it is said the Gobelin tapestry
derives its name because the secret of its colours was gained from
these ghosts. Though St. Taurin expelled one from Evreux, he found
it so polite that he would not send it to hell, and it still haunts
the credulous there and at Caen, without being thought very formidable.
The demon that 'lurks in graveyards' is universal, and may have
suggested cremation. In the East it is represented mainly by such forms
as the repulsive ghoul, which preys on dead bodies; but it has been
developed in some strange way to the Slavonic phantom called Vampyre,
whose peculiar fearfulness is that it represents the form in which
any deceased person may reappear, not ghoul-like to batten on the
dead, but to suck the blood of the living. This is perhaps the most
formidable survival of demonic superstition now existing in the world.
A people who still have in their dictionary such a word as 'miscreant'
(misbeliever) can hardly wonder that the priests of the Eastern
Church fostered the popular belief that heretics at death changed
into drinkers of the blood of the living. The Slavonic vampyres have
declined in England and America to be the 'Ogres,' who 'smell the blood
of an Englishman,' but are rarely supposed to enjoy it; but it exposes
the real ugliness of the pious superstitions sometimes deemed pretty,
that, in proportion to the intensity of belief in supernaturalism,
the people live in terror of the demons that go about seeking whom
they may devour. In Russia the watcher beside a corpse is armed with
holy charms against attack from it at midnight. A vampyre may be the
soul of any outcast from the Church, or one over whose corpse, before
burial, a cat has leaped or a bird flown. It may be discovered in a
graveyard by leading a black colt through; the animal will refuse to
tread on the vampyre's grave, and the body is taken out and a stake
driven through it, always by a single blow. A related class of demons
are the 'heart-devourers.' They touch their victim with an aspen or
other magical twig; the heart falls out, and is, perhaps, replaced
by some baser one. Mr. Ralston mentions a Mazovian story in which a
hero awakes with the heart of a hare, and remains a coward ever after;
[27] and in another case a quiet peasant received a cock's heart and
was always crowing. The Werewolf, in some respects closely related
to the vampyre, also pursues his ravages among the priest-ridden
peasantry of the South and East.
In Germany, though the more horrible forms of the superstition are
rare, the 'Nachzehrer' is much dreaded. Even in various Protestant
regions it is thought safest that a cross should be set beside every
grave to impede any demonic propensities that may take possession
of the person interred; and where food is not still buried with the
corpse to assuage any pangs of hunger that may arise, a few grains
of corn or rice are scattered upon it in reminiscence of the old
custom. In Diesdorf it is believed that if money is not placed in the
dead person's mouth at burial, or his name not cut from his shirt, he
is likely to become a Nachzehrer, and that the ghost will come forth
in the form of a pig. It is considered a sure preventative of such
a result to break the neck of the dead body. On one occasion, it is
there related, several persons of one family having died, the suspected
corpse was exhumed, and found to have eaten up its own grave-clothes.
Dr. Dyer, an eminent physician of Chicago, Illinois, told me (1875)
that a case occurred in that city within his personal knowledge,
where the body of a woman who had died of consumption was taken out of
the grave and the lungs burned, under a belief that she was drawing
after her into the grave some of her surviving relatives. In 1874,
according to the Providence Journal, in the village of Peacedale, Rhode
Island, U.S., Mr. William Rose dug up the body of his own daughter,
and burned her heart, under the belief that she was wasting away the
lives of other members of his family.
The characteristics of modern 'Spiritualism' appear to indicate
that the superstitious have outgrown this ancient fear of ghostly
malevolence where surrounded by civilisation. It is very rare in the
ancient world or in barbarous regions to find any invocations for the
return of the spirits of the dead. Mr. Tylor has quoted a beautiful
dirge used by the Ho tribe of India, beginning--
We never scolded you, never wronged you;
Come to us back!
But generally funereal customs are very significant of the fear that
spirits may return, and their dirges more in the vein of the Bodo
of North-East India: 'Take and eat: heretofore you have eaten and
drunk with us, you can do so no more: you were one of us, you can be
so no longer: we come no more to you, come you not to us.' 'Even,'
says Mr. Tylor, 'in the lowest culture we find flesh holding its own
against spirit, and at higher stages the householder rids himself with
little scruple of an unwelcome inmate. The Greenlanders would carry
the dead out by the window, not by the door, while an old woman,
waving a firebrand behind, cried 'Piklerrukpok!' i.e., 'There is
nothing more to be had here!' the Hottentots removed the dead from the
hut by an opening broken out on purpose, to prevent him from finding
the way back; the Siamese, with the same intention, break an opening
through the house wall to carry the coffin through, and then hurry it
at full speed thrice round the house; the Siberian Chuwashes fling a
red-hot stone after the corpse is carried out, for an obstacle to bar
the soul from coming back; so Brandenburg peasants pour out a pail of
water at the door after the coffin to prevent the ghost from walking;
and Pomeranian mourners returning from the churchyard leave behind
the straw from the hearse, that the wandering soul may rest there,
and not come back so far as home.' [28]
It may be remarked, in this connection, that in nearly all the pictures
of demons and devils, they are represented as very lean. The exceptions
will be found generally in certain Southern and tropical demons which
represent cloud or storm--Typhon, for instance--and present a swollen
or bloated appearance. No Northern devil is fat. Shakespeare ascribes
to Cæsar a suspicion of leanness--
Yond' Cassius hath a lean and hungry look:
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
When Antony defends Cassius, Cæsar only replies, 'Would he were
fatter!' This mistrust of leanness is a reflection from all the
Hunger-demons; it interprets the old sayings that a devil, however
fair in front, may be detected by hollowness of the back, and that
he is usually so thin as to cast no shadow. [29]
Illustrations of the Hunger-demon and its survivals might be greatly
multiplied, were it necessary. It need only, however, be mentioned that
it is to this early and most universal conception of præternatural
danger that the idea of sacrifice as well as of fasting must be
ascribed. It is, indeed, too obvious to require extended demonstration
that the notion of offering fruits and meat to an invisible being
could only have originated in the belief that such being was hungry,
however much the spiritualisation of such offerings may have attended
their continuance among enlightened peoples. In the evolution of
purer deities, Fire--'the devouring element'--was substituted for a
coarser method of accepting sacrifices, and it became a sign of baser
beings--such as the Assyrian Akhkharu, and the later Lamia--to consume
dead bodies with their teeth; and this fire was the spiritual element
in the idolatries whose objects were visible. But the original accent
of sacrifice never left it. The Levitical Law says: 'The two kidneys,
and the fat that is upon them, which is by the flanks, and the caul
above the liver, with the kidneys, it shall he take away. And the
priest shall burn them upon the altar: it is the food of the offering
made by fire for a sweet savour: all the fat is the Lord's. It shall be
a perpetual statute for your generations throughout all your dwellings,
that ye eat neither fat nor blood.' [30] We find the Hunger-demon
shown as well in the wrath of Jehovah against the sons of Eli for
eating the choice parts of the meats offered on his altar, as in that
offering of tender infants to Moloch which his priests denounced,
or in Saturn devouring his children, whom Aryan faith dethroned;
and they all reappear as phantoms thinly veiled above the spotless
Lamb offered up on Calvary, the sacrificed Macaria ('Blessed'), the
pierced heart of Mary. The beautiful boy Menoeceus must be sacrificed
to save Thebes; the gods will not have aged and tough Creon, though a
king, in his place. Iphigenia, though herself saved from the refined
palate of Artemis, through the huntress's fondness for kid's blood,
becomes the priestess of human sacrifices. The human offering deemed
half-divine could alone at last satisfy the Deity, gathered in his
side this sheaf of sacrificial knives, whetted in many lands and
ages, and in his self-sacrifice the Hunger-demon himself was made
the victim. Theologians have been glad to rescue the First Person
of their Trinity from association with the bloodthirsty demons of
barbarous ages by describing the sacrifice of Jesus as God himself
becoming the victim of an eternal law. But, whatever may be said of
this complex device, it is sufficient evidence that man's primitive
demon which personified his hunger has ended with being consumed on
his own altar. For though fasting is a survival of the same savage
notion that man may secure benefits from invisible beings by leaving
them the food, it is a practice which survives rather through the
desire of imitating ascetic saints than because of any understood
principle. The strange yet natural consummation adds depth of meaning
to the legend of Odin being himself sacrificed in his disguise on
the Holy Tree at Upsala, where human victims were hung as offerings
to him; and to his rune in the Havamal--
I know that I hung
On a wind-rocked tree
Nine whole nights,
With a spear wounded,
And to Odin offered
Myself to myself.
CHAPTER II.
HEAT.
Demons of Fire--Agni--Asmodeus--Prometheus--Feast of fire--Moloch
--Tophet--Genii of the lamp--Bel-fires--Hallowe'en--Negro
superstitions--Chinese fire-god--Volcanic and incendiary demons--
Mangaian fire-demon--Demons' fear of water.
Fire was of old the element of fiends. No doubt this was in part due to
the fact that it also was a devouring element. Sacrifices were burnt;
the demon visibly consumed them. But the great flame-demons represent
chiefly the destructive and painful action of intense heat. They
originate in regions of burning desert, of sunstroke, and drouth.
Agni, the Hindu god of fire, was adored in Vedic hymns as the twin
of Indra.
'Thy appearance is fair to behold, thou bright-faced Agni, when like
gold thou shinest at hand; thy brightness comes like the lightning
of heaven; thou showest splendour like the splendour of the bright sun.
'Adorable and excellent Agni, emit the moving and graceful smoke.
'The flames of Agni are luminous, powerful, fearful, and not to
be trusted.
'I extol the greatness of that showerer of rain, whom men celebrate
as the slayer of Vritra: the Agni, Vaiswanara, slew the stealer of
the waters.'
The slaying of Vritra, the monster, being the chief exploit of Indra,
Agni could only share in it as being the flame that darted with
Indra's weapon, the disc (of the sun).
'Thou (Agni) art laid hold off with difficulty, like the young of
tortuously twining snakes, thou who art a consumer of many forests
as a beast is of fodder.'
Petrifaction awaits all these glowing metaphors of early time. Verbal
inspiration will make Agni a literally tortuous serpent and consuming
fire. His smoke, called Kali (black), is now the name of Siva's
terrible bride.
Much is said in Vedic hymns of the method of producing the sacred
flame symbolising Agni; namely, the rubbing together of two sticks. 'He
it is whom the two sticks have engendered, like a new-born babe.' It
is a curious coincidence that a similar phrase should describe 'the
devil on two sticks,' who has come by way of Persia into European
romance. Asmodeus was a lame demon, and his 'two sticks' as 'Diable
Boiteux' are crutches; but his lameness may be referable to the
attenuated extremities suggested by spires of flame--'tortuously
twining snakes,'--rather than to the rabbinical myth that he broke
his leg on his way to meet Solomon. Benfey identified Asmodeus as
Zend Aêshma-daêva, demon of lust. His goat-feet and fire-coal eyes
are described by Le Sage, and the demon says he was lamed by falling
from the air, like Vulcan, when contending with Pillardoc. It is not
difficult to imagine how flame engendered by the rubbing of sticks
might have attained personification as sensual passion, especially
among Zoroastrians, who would detach from the adorable Fire all
associations of evil. It would harmonise well with the Persian
tendency to diabolise Indian gods, that they should note the lustful
character occasionally ascribed to Agni in the Vedas. 'Him alone,
the ever-youthful Agni, men groom like a horse in the evening and
at dawn; they bed him as a stranger in his couch; the light of Agni,
the worshipped male, is lighted.' Agni was the Indian 'Brulefer' or
love-charmer, and patron of marriage; the fire-god Hephaistos was the
husband of Aphrodite; the day of the Norse thunder-and-lightning god
Thor (Thursday), is in Scandinavian regions considered the luckiest
for marriages.
The process of obtaining fire by friction is represented by a nobler
class of myths than that referred to. In the Mahábhárata the gods
and demons together churn the ocean for the nectar of immortality;
and they use for their churning-stick the mountain Manthara. This word
appears in pramantha, which means a fire-drill, and from it comes the
great name of Prometheus, who stole fire from heaven, and conferred
on mankind a boon which rendered them so powerful that the jealousy
and wrath of Zeus were excited. This fable is generally read in its
highly rationalised and mystical form, and on this account belongs to
another part of our general subject; but it may be remarked here that
the Titan so terribly tortured by Zeus could hardly have been regarded,
originally, as the friend of man. At the time when Zeus was a god
genuinely worshipped--when he first stood forth as the supplanter of
the malign devourer Saturn--it could have been no friend of man who
was seen chained on the rock for ever to be the vulture's prey. It
was fire in some destructive form which must have been then associated
with Prometheus, and not that power by which later myths represented
his animating with a divine spark the man of clay. The Hindu myth
of churning the ocean for the immortal draught, even if it be proved
that the ocean is heaven and the draught lightning, does not help us
much. The traditional association of Prometheus with the Arts might
almost lead one to imagine that the early use of fire by some primitive
inventor had brought upon him the wrath of his mates, and that Zeus'
thunderbolts represented some early 'strike' against machinery.
It is not quite certain that it may not have been through some
euphemistic process that Fire-worship arose in Persia. Not only does
fire occupy a prominent place in the tortures inflicted by Ahriman
in the primitive Parsee Inferno, but it was one of the weapons by
which he attempted to destroy the heavenly child Zoroaster. The evil
magicians kindled a fire in the desert and threw the child on it;
but his mother, Dogdo, found him sleeping tranquilly on the flames,
which were as a pleasant bath, and his face shining like Zohore and
Moschteri (Jupiter and Mercury). [31] The Zoroastrians also held
that the earth would ultimately be destroyed by fire; its metals and
minerals, ignited by a comet, would form streams which all souls would
have to pass through: they would be pleasant to the righteous, but
terrible to the sinful,--who, however, would come through, purified,
into paradise, the last to arrive being Ahriman himself.
The combustible nature of many minerals under the surface of the
earth,--which was all the realm of Hades (invisible),--would assist
the notion of a fiery abode for the infernal gods. Our phrase 'plutonic
rock' would then have a very prosaic sense. Pliny says that in his time
sulphur was used to keep off evil spirits, and it is not impossible
that it first came to be used as a medicine by this route. [32]
Fire-festivals still exist in India, where the ancient raiment of Agni
has been divided up and distributed among many deities. At the popular
annual festival in honour of Dharma Rajah, called the Feast of Fire,
the devotees walk barefoot over a glowing fire extending forty feet. It
lasts eighteen days, during which time those that make a vow to keep
it must fast, abstain from women, lie on the bare ground, and walk
on a brisk fire. The eighteenth day they assemble on the sound of
instruments, their heads crowned with flowers, their bodies daubed
with saffron, and follow the figures of Dharma Rajah and Draupadi
his wife in procession. When they come to the fire, they stir it
to animate its activity, and take a little of the ashes, with which
they rub their foreheads; and when the gods have been carried three
times round it they walk over a hot fire, about forty feet. Some
carry their children in their arms, and others lances, sabres, and
standards. After the ceremony the people press to collect the ashes
to rub their foreheads with, and obtain from devotees the flowers
with which they were adorned, and which they carefully preserve. [33]
The passion of Agni reappears in Draupadi purified by fire for
her five husbands, and especially her union with Dharma Rajah,
son of Yama, is celebrated in this unorthodox passion-feast. It has
been so much the fashion for travellers to look upon all 'idolatry'
with biblical eyes, that we cannot feel certain with Sonnerat that
there was anything more significant in the carrying of children by
the devotees, than the supposition that what was good for the parent
was equally beneficial to the child. But the identification of Moloch
with an Aryan deity is not important; the Indian Feast of Fire and
the rites of Moloch are derived by a very simple mental process
from the most obvious aspects of the Sun as the quickening and the
consuming power in nature. The child offered to Moloch was offered
to the god by whom he was generated, and as the most precious of all
the fruits of the earth for which his genial aid was implored and his
destructive intensity deprecated. Moloch, a word that means 'king,'
was a name almost synonymous with human sacrifice. It was in all
probability at first only a local (Ammonite) personification growing
out of an ancient shrine of Baal. The Midianite Baal accompanied the
Israelites into the wilderness, and that worship was never thoroughly
eradicated. In the Egyptian Confession of Faith, which the initiated
took even into their graves inscribed upon a scroll, the name of
God is not mentioned, but is expressed only by the words Nuk pu Nuk,
'I am he who I am.' [34] The flames of the burning bush, from which
these same words came to Moses, were kindled from Baal, the Sun;
and we need not wonder that while the more enlightened chiefs of
Israel preserved the higher ideas and symbols of the countries they
abandoned, the ignorant would still cling to Apis (the Golden Calf),
to Ashtaroth, and to Moloch. Amos (v. 26), and after him Stephen the
martyr (Acts vii. 43), reproach the Hebrews with having carried into
the wilderness the tabernacle of their god Moloch. And though the
passing of children through the fire to Moloch was, by the Mosaic Law,
made a capital crime, the superstition and the corresponding practice
retained such strength that we find Solomon building a temple to Moloch
on the Mount of Olives (1 Kings xi. 7), and, long after, Manasseh
making his son pass through the fire in honour of the same god.
It is certain from the denunciations of the prophets [35] that the
destruction of children in these flames was actual. From Jeremiah
xix. 6, as well as other sources, we know that the burnings took
place in the Valley of Tophet or Hinnom (Gehenna). The idol Moloch
was of brass, and its throne of brass; its head was that of a calf,
and wore a royal crown; its stomach was a furnace, and when the
children were placed in its arms they were consumed by the fierce
heat,--their cries being drowned by the beating of drums; from which,
toph meaning a 'drum,' the place was also called Tophet. In the fierce
war waged against alien superstitions by Josiah, he defiled Gehenna,
filling it with ordure and dead men's bones to make it odious, 'that
no man might make his son or his daughter to pass through the fire
to Moloch' (2 Kings xxiii. 10), and a perpetual fire was kept there
to consume the filth of Jerusalem.
From this horrible Gehenna, with its perpetual fire, its loathsome
worm, its cruelties, has been derived the picture of a never-ending
Hell prepared for the majority of human beings by One who, while they
live on earth, sends the rain and sunshine alike on the evil and the
good. Wo Chang, a Chinaman in London, has written to a journal [36]
his surprise that our religious teachers should be seized with such
concern for the victims of Turkish atrocities in Bulgaria, while
they are so calm in view of the millions burning, and destined to
burn endlessly, in the flames of hell. Our Oriental brothers will
learn a great deal from our missionaries; among other things, that
the theological god of Christendom is still Moloch.
The Ammonites, of whom Moloch was the special demon, appear to have
gradually blended with the Arabians. These received from many sources
their mongrel superstitions, but among them were always prominent
the planet-gods and fire-gods, whom their growing monotheism (to use
the word still in a loose sense) transformed to powerful angels and
genii. The genii of Arabia are slaves of the lamp; they are evoked
by burning tufts of hair; they ascend as clouds of smoke. Though, as
subordinate agents of the Fire-fiend, they may be consumed by flames,
yet those who so fight them are apt to suffer a like fate, as in the
case of the Lady of Beauty in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments. Many
stories of this kind preceded the declarations of the Old Testament,
that Jehovah breathes fire and brimstone, his breath kindling Tophet;
and also the passages of the Koran, and of the New Testament describing
Satan as a fiery fiend.
Various superstitions connecting infernal powers with fire survive
among the Jews of some remote districts of Europe. The Passover
is kept a week by the Jewish inhabitants in the villages on the
Vosges mountains and on the banks of the Rhine. The time of omer is
the interval between the Passover and Pentecost, the seven weeks
elapsing from the departure from Egypt and the giving of the law,
marked in former days by the offering of an omer of barley daily at
the temple. It is considered a fearful time, during which every Jew is
particularly exposed to the evil influence of evil spirits. There is
something dangerous and fatal in the air; every one should be on the
watch, and not tempt the schedim (demons) in any way. Have a strict
eye upon your cattle, say the Jews, for the sorceress will get into
your stables, mount your cows and goats, bring diseases upon them,
and turn their milk sour. In the latter case, try to lay your hand
upon the suspected person; shut her up in a room with a basin of sour
milk, and beat the milk with a hazel-wand, pronouncing God's name
three times. Whilst you are doing this, the sorceress will make great
lamentation, for the blows are falling upon her. Only stop when you see
blue flames dancing on the surface of the milk, for then the charm is
broken. If at nightfall a beggar comes to ask for a little charcoal to
light his fire, be very careful not to give it, and do not let him go
without drawing him three times by his coat-tail; and without losing
time, throw some large handfuls of salt on the fire. In all of which
we may trace traditions of parched wildernesses and fiery serpents,
as well as of Abraham's long warfare with the Fire-worshippers, until,
according to the tradition, he was thrown into the flames he refused
to worship.
It is probable that in all the popular superstitions which now
connect devils and future punishments with fire are blended both the
apotheosis and the degradation of demons. The first and most universal
of deities being the Sun, whose earthly representative is fire, the
student of Comparative Mythology has to pick his way very carefully
in tracing by any ethnological path the innumerable superstitions of
European folklore in which Fire-worship is apparently reflected. The
collection of facts and records contained in a work so accessible to
all who care to pursue the subject as that of Brand and his editors,
[37] renders it unnecessary that I should go into the curious facts
to any great extent here. The uniformity of the traditions by which
the midsummer fires of Northern Europe have been called Baal-fires or
Bel-fires warrant the belief that they are actually descended from
the ancient rites of Baal, even apart from the notorious fact that
they have so generally been accompanied by the superstition that
it is a benefit to children to leap over or be passed through such
fires. That this practice still survives in out-of-the way places of
the British Empire appears from such communications as the following
(from the Times), which are occasionally addressed to the London
journals:--'Lerwick (Shetland), July 7, 1871.--Sir,--It may interest
some of your readers to know that last night (being St. John's Eve,
old style) I observed, within a mile or so of this town, seven bonfires
blazing, in accordance with the immemorial custom of celebrating the
Midsummer solstice. These fires were kindled on various heights around
the ancient hamlet of Sound, and the children leaped over them, and
'passed through the fire to Moloch,' just as their ancestors would
have done a thousand years ago on the same heights, and their still
remoter progenitors in Eastern lands many thousand years ago. This
persistent adherence to mystic rites in this scientific epoch seems
to me worth taking note of.--A. J.'
To this may be added the following recent extract from a Scotch
journal:--
'Hallowe'en was celebrated at Balmoral Castle with unusual ceremony,
in the presence of her Majesty, the Princess Beatrice, the ladies
and gentlemen of the royal household, and a large gathering of the
tenantry. The leading features of the celebration were a torchlight
procession, the lighting of large bonfires, and the burning in effigy
of witches and warlocks. Upwards of 150 torch-bearers assembled at
the castle as dark set in, and separated into two parties, one band
proceeding to Invergelder, and the other remaining at Balmoral. The
torches were lighted at a quarter before six o'clock, and shortly
after the Queen and Princess Beatrice drove to Invergelder, followed
by the Balmoral party of torchbearers. The two parties then united
and returned in procession to the front of Balmoral Castle, where
refreshments were served to all, and dancing was engaged in round a
huge bonfire. Suddenly there appeared from the rear of the Castle a
grotesque apparition representing a witch with a train of followers
dressed like sprites, who danced and gesticulated in all fashions. Then
followed a warlock of demoniac shape, who was succeeded by another
warlock drawing a car, on which was seated the figure of a witch,
surrounded by other figures in the garb of demons. The unearthly
visitors having marched several times round the burning pile,
the principal figure was taken from the car and tossed into the
flames amid the burning of blue lights and a display of crackers
and fireworks. The health of her Majesty the Queen was then pledged,
and drunk with Highland honours by the assembled hundreds. Dancing
was then resumed, and was carried on till a late hour at night.'
The Sixth Council of Constantinople (an. 680), by its sixty-fifth
canon, forbids these fires in the following terms:--'Those bonefires
that are kindled by certain people before their shops and houses,
over which also they use ridiculously to leap, by a certain ancient
custom, we command them from henceforth to cease. Whoever, therefore,
shall do any such thing, if he be a clergyman, let him be deposed;
if he be a layman, let him be excommunicated. For in the Fourth Book
of the Kings it is thus written: And Manasseh built an altar to all
the host of heaven, in the two courts of the Lord's house, and made
his children to pass through the fire.' There is a charming naïveté
in this denunciation. It is no longer doubtful that this 'bonefire'
over which people leaped came from the same source as that Gehenna
from which the Church derived the orthodox theory of hell, as we have
already seen. When Shakespeare speaks (Macbeth) of 'the primrose way
to the everlasting bonfire,' [38] he is, with his wonted felicity,
assigning the flames of hell and the fires of Moloch and Baal their
right archæological relation.
In my boyhood I have often leaped over a bonfire in a part of the
State of Virginia mainly settled by Scotch families, with whom
probably the custom migrated thither. In the superstitions of the
negroes of that and other Southern States fire plays a large part,
but it is hardly possible now to determine whether they have drifted
there from Africa or England. Sometimes there are queer coincidences
between their notions and some of the early legends of Britain. Thus,
the tradition of the shepherd guided by a distant fire to the entrance
of King Arthur's subterranean hall, where a flame fed by no fuel
coming through the floor reveals the slumbering monarch and his court,
resembles somewhat stories I have heard from negroes of their being led
by distant fires to lucky--others say unlucky--or at any rate enchanted
spots. A negro belonging to my father told me that once, as he was
walking on a country road, he saw a great fire in the distance; he
supposed it must be a house on fire, and hastened towards it, meantime
much puzzled, since he knew of no house in that direction. As he went
on his way he turned into a small wood near which the fire seemed to
be, but when he emerged, all he found was a single fire-coal burning
in the path. There were no other traces whatever of fire, but just
then a large dog leaped past him with a loud bark and disappeared.
In a letter on 'Voudouism in Virginia,' which appeared in the New
York Tribune, dated Richmond, September 17, 1875, occurs an account
of a class of superstitions generally kept close from the whites,
as I have always believed because of their purely African origin. As
will be seen, fire represents an important element in the superstitious
practices.
'If an ignorant negro is smitten with a disease which he cannot
comprehend, he often imagines himself the victim of witchcraft,
and having no faith in 'white folks' physic' for such ailments,
must apply to one of these quacks. A physician residing near this
city was invited by such a one to witness his mode of procedure
with a dropsical patient for whom the physician in question had
occasionally charitably prescribed. Curiosity led him to attend the
seance, having previously informed the quack that since the case was
in such hands he relinquished all connection with it. On the coverlet
of the bed on which the sick man lay was spread a quantity of bones,
feathers, and other trash. The charlatan went through with a series of
so-called conjurations, burned feathers, hair, and tiny fragments of
wood in a charcoal furnace, and mumbled gibberish past the physician's
comprehension. He then proceeded to rip open the pillows and bolsters,
and took from them some queer conglomerations of feathers. These he
said had caused all the trouble. Sprinkling a whitish powder over them,
he burnt them in his furnace. A black offensive smoke was produced,
and he announced triumphantly that the evil influence was destroyed
and that the patient would surely get well. He died not many days
later, believing, in common with all his friends and relatives, that
the conjurations of the 'trick doctor' had failed to save him only
because resorted to too late.'
The following account of a spell from which his wife was rescued,
was given me by a negro in Virginia:--
'The wizard,' to quote the exact words of my informant, 'threw a stick
on a chest; the stick bounded like a trapball three times; then he
opened the chest, took out something looking like dust or clay, and
put it into a cup with water over a fire; then he poured it over a
board (after chopping it three times), which he then put up beneath
the shingles of the house. Returning to the chest he took a piece of
old chain, near the length of my hand, took a hoe and buried the chain
near the sill of the door of my wife's house where she would pass;
then he went away. I saw my wife coming and called to her not to pass,
and to go for a hoe and dig up the place. She did this, and I took
up the chain, which burned the ends of all my fingers clean off. The
same night the conjuror came back: my wife took two half dollars and
a quarter in silver and threw them on the ground before him. The man
seemed as if he was shocked, and then offered her his hand, which
she refused to take, as I had bid her not to let him touch her. He
left and never came to the house again. The spell was broken.'
I am convinced that this is a pure Voudou procedure, and it is
interesting in several regards. The introduction of the chain may have
been the result of the excitement of the time, for it was during the
war when negroes were breaking their chains. The fire and water show
how wide-spread in Africa is that double ordeal which, as we have
seen, is well known in the kingdom of Dahomey. [39] But the mingling
of 'something like dust' with the water held in a cup over the fire,
is strongly suggestive of the Jewish method of preparing holy water,
'the water of separation.' 'For an unclean person they shall take of
the dust of the burnt heifer of purification for sin, and running
water shall be put thereto in a vessel.' [40] The fiery element
of the mixture was in this case imported with the ashes of the red
heifer. As for this sacrifice of the red heifer itself [41] it was
plainly the propitiation of a fiery demon. In Egypt red hair and red
animals of all kinds were considered infernal, and all the details
of this sacrifice show that the colour of this selected heifer was
typical. The heifer was not a usual sacrifice: a red one was obviously
by its colour marked for the genii of fire--the terrible Seven--and
not to be denied them. Its blood was sprinkled seven times before the
tabernacle, and the rest was utterly consumed--including the hide,
which is particularly mentioned--and the ashes taken to make the
'water of separation.' Calmet notes, in this connection, that the
Apis of India was red-coloured.
The following interesting story of the Chinese Fire-god was supplied
to Mr. Dennys [42] by Mr. Playfair of H.M. Consulate, to whom it was
related in Peking:--
'The temples of the God of Fire are numerous in Peking, as is natural
in a city built for the most part of very combustible materials. The
idols representing the god are, with one exception, decked with red
beards, typifying by their colour the element under his control. The
exceptional god has a white beard, and 'thereby hangs a tale.'
'A hundred years ago the Chinese imperial revenue was in much
better case than it is now. At that time they had not yet come into
collision with Western Powers, and the word 'indemnity' had not,
so far, found a place in their vocabulary; internal rebellions were
checked as soon as they broke out, and, in one word, Kien Lung was in
less embarrassed circumstances than Kwang Hsu; he had more money to
spend, and did lay out a good deal in the way of palaces. His favourite
building, and one on which no expense had been spared, was the 'Hall of
Contemplation.' This hall was of very large dimensions; the rafters and
the pillars which supported the roof were of a size such as no trees
in China furnish now-a-days. They were not improbably originally sent
as an offering by the tributary monarch of some tropical country, such
as Burmah or Siam. Two men could barely join hands round the pillars;
they were cased in lustrous jet-black lacquer, which, while adding to
the beauty of their appearance, was also supposed to make them less
liable to combustion. Indeed, every care was taken that no fire should
approach the building; no lighted lamp was allowed in the precincts,
and to have smoked a pipe inside those walls would have been punished
with death. The floor of the hall was of different-coloured marbles,
in a mosaic of flowers and mystic Chinese characters, always kept
polished like a mirror. The sides of the room were lined with rare
books and precious manuscripts. It was, in short, the finest palace
in the imperial city, and it was the pride of Kien Lung.
'Alas for the vanity of human wishes! In spite of every precaution,
one night a fire broke out, and the Hall of Contemplation was in
danger. The Chinese of a century ago were not without fire-engines,
and though miserably inefficient as compared with those of our London
fire brigade, they were better than nothing, and a hundred of them
were soon working round the burning building. The Emperor himself
came out to superintend their efforts and encourage them to renewed
exertions. But the hall was doomed; a more than earthly power was
directing the flames, and mortal efforts were of no avail. For on
one of the burning rafters Kien Lung saw the figure of a little old
man, with a long white beard, standing in a triumphant attitude. 'It
is the God of Fire,' said the Emperor, 'we can do nothing;' so the
building was allowed to blaze in peace. Next day Kien Lung appointed a
commission to go the round of the Peking temples in order to discover
in which of them there was a Fire-god with a white beard, that he
might worship him, and appease the offended deity. The search was
fruitless; all the Fire-gods had red beards. But the commission had
done its work badly; being highly respectable mandarins of genteel
families, they had confined their search to such temples as were
in good repair and of creditable exterior. Outside the north gate
of the imperial city was one old, dilapidated, disreputable shrine
which they had overlooked. It had been crumbling away for years, and
even the dread figure of the God of Fire, which sat above the altar,
had not escaped desecration. 'Time had thinned his flowing locks,'
and the beard had fallen away altogether. One day some water-carriers
who frequented the locality thought, either in charity or by way
of a joke, that the face would look the better for a new beard. So
they unravelled some cord, and with the frayed-out hemp adorned the
beardless chin. An official passing the temple one day peeped in out
of curiosity, and saw the hempen beard. 'Just the thing the Emperor
was inquiring about,' said he to himself, and he took the news to
the palace without delay. Next day there was a state visit to the
dilapidated temple, and Kien Lung made obeisance and vowed a vow.
'O Fire-god,' said he, 'thou hast been wroth with me in that I have
built me palaces, and left thy shrine unhonoured and in ruins. Here do
I vow to build thee a temple surpassed by none other of the Fire-gods
in Peking; but I shall expect thee in future not to meddle with
my palaces.'
'The Emperor was as good as his word. The new temple is on the site of
the old one, and the Fire-god has a flowing beard of fine white hair.'
In the San Francisco Bulletin, I recently read a description of the
celebration by the Chinese in that city of their Feast for the Dead,
in which there are some significant features. The chief attention
was paid, says the reporter, to a figure 'representing what answers
in their theology to our devil, and whom they evidently think it
necessary to propitiate before proceeding with their worship over
individual graves.' This figure is on the west side of their temple;
before and around it candles and joss-sticks were kept burning. On
the east side was the better-looking figure, to which they paid
comparatively little attention.
It was of course but natural that the demons of fire should
gradually be dispelled from that element in its normal aspects, as
its uses became more important through human invention, and its evil
possibilities were mastered. Such demons became gradually located in
the region of especially dangerous fires, as volcanoes and boiling
springs. The Titan whom the ancients believed struggling beneath
Ætna remained there as the Devil in the christian age. St. Agatha
is said to have prevented his vomiting fire for a century by her
prayers. St. Philip ascended the same mountain, and with book and
candle pronounced a prayer of exorcism, at which three devils came
out like fiery flying stones, crying, 'Woe is us! we are still hunted
by Peter through Philip the Elder!' The volcanoes originated the
belief that hell is at the earth's centre, and their busy Vulcans of
classic ages have been easily transformed into sulphurous lords of
the christian Hell. Such is the mediæval Haborym, demon of arson,
with his three heads--man, cat, and serpent--who rides through the
air mounted on a serpent, and bears in his hand a flaming torch. The
astrologers assigned him command of twenty-six legions of demons in
hell, and the superstitious often saw him laughing on the roofs of
burning houses. [43] But still more dignified is Raum, who commands
thirty legions, and who destroys villages; hence, also, concerned in
the destructions of war, he became the demon who awards dignities;
and although this made his usual form of apparition on the right bank
of the Rhine that of the Odinistic raven, on the left bank he may be
detected in the little red man who was reported as the familiar of
Napoleon I. during his career.
Among Mr. Gill's South Pacific myths is one of a Prometheus, Maui, who
by assistance of a red pigeon gets from the subterranean fire-demon
the secret of producing fire (by rubbing sticks), the demon (Mauike)
being then consumed with his realm, and fire being brought to the
upper world to remain the friend of man. In Vedic legend, when the
world was enveloped in darkness, the gods prayed to Agni, who suddenly
burst out as Tvashtri--pure fire, the Vedic Vulcan--to the dismay of
the universe. In Eddaic sagas, Loki was deemed the most voracious of
beings until defeated in an eating match with Logi (devouring fire).
Survivals of belief in the fiery nature of demons are very
numerous. Thus it is a very common belief that the Devil cannot touch
or cross water, and may therefore be escaped by leaping a stream. This
has sometimes been supposed to have something to do with the purifying
character of water; but there are many instances in Christian folklore
where the Devil is shown quite independent of even holy water if it
is not sprinkled on him or does not wet his feet. Thus in the Norfolk
legend concerning St. Godric, the Devil is said to have thrown the
vessel with its holy water at the saint's head out of anger at his
singing a canticle which the Virgin taught him. But when the Devil
attacked him in various ferocious animal shapes, St. Godric escaped
by running into the Wear, where he sometimes stood all night in water
up to his neck.
The Kobolds get the red jackets they are said to wear from their fiery
nature. Originally the lar familiaris of Germany, the Kobold became
of many varieties; but in one line he has been developed from the
house-spirit, whose good or evil temper was recognised in the comforts
or dangers of fire, to a special Stone-demon. The hell-dog in Faust's
room takes refuge from the spell of 'Solomon's Key' behind the stone,
and is there transformed to human shape. The German maidens read many
pretty oracles in the behaviour of the fire, and the like in that of
its fellow Wahrsager the house-dog. It is indeed a widespread notion
that imps and witches lurk about the fireside, obviously in cat and
dog, and ride through the air on implements that usually stand about
the fire,--shovel, tongs, or broom. In Paris it was formerly the
custom to throw twenty-four cats into the fire on St. John's night,
the animals being, according to M. De Plancy, emblems of the devil. So
was replaced the holocaust of human witches, until at last civilisation
rang out its curfew for all such fires as that.
CHAPTER III.
COLD.
Descent of Ishtar into Hades--Bardism--Baldur--Hercules--Christ
--Survivals of the Frost Giant in Slavonic and other countries--
The Clavie--The Frozen Hell--The Northern abode of demons--North
side of churches.
Even across immemorial generations it is impossible to read without
emotion the legend of the Descent of Ishtar into Hades. [44] Through
seven gates the goddess of Love passes in search of her beloved,
and at each some of her ornaments and clothing are removed by the
dread guardian. Ishtar enters naked into the presence of the Queen
of Death. But gods, men, and herds languish in her absence, and the
wonder-working Hea, the Saviour, so charms the Infernal Queen, that
she bids the Judge of her realm, Annunak, absolve Ishtar from his
golden throne.
'He poured out for Ishtar the waters of life and let her go.
Then the first gate let her forth, and restored to her the first
garment of her body.
The second gate let her forth, and restored to her the diamonds of
her hands and feet.
The third gate let her forth, and restored to her the central girdle
of her waist.
The fourth gate let her forth, and restored to her the small lovely
gems of her forehead.
The fifth gate let her forth, and restored to her the precious stones
of her head.
The sixth gate let her forth, and restored to her the earrings of
her ears.
The seventh gate let her forth, and restored to her the great crown
on her head.'
This old miracle-play of Nature--the return of summer flower by
flower--is deciphered from an ancient Assyrian tablet in a town
within only a few hours of another, where a circle of worshippers
repeat the same at every solstice! Myfyr Morganwg, the Arch-Druid,
adores still Hea by name as his Saviour, and at the winter solstice
assembles his brethren to celebrate his coming to bruise the head
of the Serpent of Hades (Annwn, nearly the same as in the tablet),
that seedtime and harvest shall not fail. [45]
Is this a survival? No doubt; but there is no cult in the world which,
if 'scratched,' as the proverb says, will not reveal beneath it the
same conception. However it may be spiritualised, every 'plan of
salvation' is cast in the mould of Winter conquered by the Sun, the
Descent of Love to the Under World, the delivery of the imprisoned
germs of Life.
It is very instructive to compare with the myth of Ishtar that of
Hermödr, seeking the release of Baldur the Beautiful from Helheim.
The deadly powers of Winter are represented in the Eddaic account
of the death of Baldur, soft summer Light, the Norse Baal. His blind
brother Hödr is Darkness; the demon who directed his arrow is Loki,
subterranean fire; the arrow itself is of mistletoe, which, fostered by
Winter, owes no duty to Baldur; and the realm to which he is borne is
that of Hel, the frozen zone. Hermödr, having arrived, assured Hel that
the gods were in despair for the loss of Baldur. The Queen replied that
it should now be tried whether Baldur was so beloved. 'If, therefore,
all things in the world, both living and lifeless, weep for him, he
shall return to the Æsir.' In the end all wept but the old hag Thokk
(Darkness), who from her cavern sang--
Thokk will wail
With dry eyes
Baldur's bale-fire.
Nought quick or dead
For Carl's son care I.
Let Hel hold her own.
So Baldur remained in Helheim. The myth very closely resembles that
of Ishtar's Descent. In similar accent the messenger of the Southern
gods weeps and lacerates himself as he relates the grief of the
upper world, and all men and animals 'since the time that mother
Ishtar descended into Hades.' But in the latter the messenger is
successful, in the North he is unsuccessful. In the corresponding
myths of warm and sunny climes the effort at release is more or
less successful, in proportion to the extent of winter. In Adonis
released from Hades for four months every year, and another four if
he chose to abandon Persephone for Aphrodite, we have a reflection of
a variable year. That, and the similar myth of Persephone, varied in
the time specified for their passing in the upper and under worlds,
probably in accordance with the climatic averages of the regions in
which they were told. But in the tropics it was easy to believe the
release complete, as in the myth of Ishtar. In Mangaian myths the hero,
Maui, escapes from a nether world of fire, aided by a red pigeon.
When this contest between Winter's Death and Spring's Life became
humanised, it was as Hercules vanquishing Death and completely
releasing Alcestis. When it became spiritualised it was as Christ
conquering Death and Hell, and releasing the spirits from prison. The
wintry desolation had to be artificially imitated in a forty days' fast
and Lent, closing with a thrust from the spear (the mistletoe arrow)
amid darkness (blind Hödr). But the myth of a swift resurrection
had to be artificially preserved in the far North. The legend of a
full triumph over Death and Hell could never have originated among
our Norse ancestors. Their only story resembling it, that of Iduna,
related how her recovery from the Giants brought back health to the
gods, not men. But it was from the South that men had to hear tidings
of a rescue for the earth and man.
We cannot realise now what glad tidings were they which told this new
gospel to peoples sitting in regions of ice and gloom, after it had
been imposed on them against their reluctant fears. In manifold forms
the old combat was renewed in their festivals, and peoples who had
long been prostrate and helpless before the terrible powers of nature
were never weary of the Southern fables of heroic triumphs over them,
long interpreted in the simple physical sense.
The great Demon of the Northern World is still Winter, and the
hereditary hatred of him is such that he is still cursed, scourged,
killed, and buried or drowned under various names and disguises. In
every Slavonic country, says Mr. Ralston, there are to be found,
about carnival time, traces of ancient rites, intended to typify the
death of Winter and the birth of Spring or Summer. In Poland a puppet
made of hemp or straw is flung into a pond or swamp with the words,
'The Devil take thee!' Then the participators in the deed scamper home,
and if one of them stumbles and falls it is believed he will die within
the year. In Upper Lausatia a similar figure is fastened on a pole to
be pelted, then taken to the village boundary and thrown across it or
cast into the water, its bearers returning with green boughs. Sometimes
the figure is shrouded in white, representing snow, and bears in its
hands a broom (the sweeping storm) and a sickle (the fatal reaper). In
Russia the 'Straw Mujik' is burned, and also in Bulgaria; in the latter
the bonfire is accompanied by the firing of guns, and by dances and
songs to Lado, goddess of Spring. This reminiscence of Leto, on whose
account Apollo slew the Python, is rendered yet more striking by the
week of archery which accompanies it, recalling the sunbeam darts of
the god. In Spain and Italy the demon puppet is scourged under the name
of Judas, as indeed is the case in the annual Good Friday performance
of Portuguese sailors in the London Docks. Mr. Tylor found in Mexico a
similar custom, the Judas being a regular horned and hoofed devil. In
Scotland the pre-christian accessories of a corresponding custom are
more pronounced both in the time selected (the last day of the year,
old style) and the place. 'The Clavie,' as the custom of burning the
puppet of Winter is mysteriously called, occurred on January 12 of
this year (1878) at Burghead, a fishing village near Forres, where
stands an old Roman altar locally named the 'Douro.' A tar-barrel
was set on fire and carried by a fisherman round the town, while the
people shouted and hallooed. (If the man who carries the barrel falls
it is an evil omen.) The lighted barrel, having gone round the town,
was carried to the top of the hill and placed on the Douro. More fuel
was added. The sparks as they fly upwards are supposed to be witches
and evil spirits leaving the town; the people therefore shout at and
curse them as they disappear in vacancy. When the burning tar-barrel
falls in pieces, the fishwomen rush in and endeavour to get a lighted
bit of wood from its remains; with this light the fire on the cottage
hearth is at once kindled, and it is considered lucky to keep this
flame alive all the rest of the year. The charcoal of the Clavie is
collected and put in bits up the chimney to prevent the witches and
evil spirits coming into the house. The Douro is covered with a thick
layer of tar from the fires that are annually lighted upon it. Close
to it is a very ancient Roman well.
It is an instance of the irony of etymology that the word 'Hell'
means a place of fireless darkness. Nor is the fact that the name of
the Scandinavian demoness Hel, phonetically corresponding with Kali,
'the Black One' (Goth. Halja), whose abode was an icy hole, has her
name preserved as a place of fiery torment, without significance. In
regions where cold was known to an uncomfortable extent as well
as heat, we usually find it represented in the ideas of future
punishment. The realm called Hades, meaning just the same as Hell,
suggests cold. Tertullian and Jerome say that Christ's own phrases
'outer darkness' and the 'gnashing (chattering) of teeth' suggest a
place of extreme cold alternating with the excessive heat. Traces of
similar speculations are found with the Rabbins. Thus Rabbi Joseph
says Gehenna had both water and fire. Noah saw the angel of death
approaching and hid from him twelve months. Why twelve? Because
(explains Rabbi Jehuda) such is the trial of sinners,--six in water,
six in fire. Dante (following Virgil) has frigid as well as burning
hells; and the idea was refined by some scholiasts to a statement
which would seem to make the alternations of future punishment amount
to a severe ague and fever. Milton (Paradise Lost, ii.) has blended
the rabbinical notions with those of Virgil (Æn. vi.) in his terrible
picture of the frozen continent, where
The parching air
Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire:
Thither by harpy-footed Furies haled
At certain revolutions all the damn'd
Are brought; and feel by turns the bitter change
Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce,
From beds of raging fire to starve in ice
Their soft etherial warmth, and there to pine
Immovable, infix'd, and frozen round.
With which may be compared Shakespeare's lines in 'Measure for
Measure'--
The de-lighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice.
In Thibet hell is believed to have sixteen circles, eight burning,
eight frozen, which M. Delepierre attributes to the rapid changes of
their climate between the extremes of heat and cold. [46] Plutarch,
relating the vision of Thespesius in Hades, speaks of the frozen region
there. Denys le Chartreux (De Poenis Inferni) says the severest of
infernal torments is freezing. In the 'Kalendar of Shepherds' (1506)
a legend runs:--'Lazarus sayde, 'I sawe a flode of frosone yce in
the whiche envyous men and women were plonged unto the navyll, and
then sodynly came a colde wynde ryght great that blewe and dyd depe
downe all the envyous into the colde water that nothynge was seen of
them.' Such, too, is Persian Ardá Viráf's vision.
The Demon of Cold has a habitat, naturally, in every
Northern region. He is the Ke-mung of China, who--man-shaped,
dragon-headed--haunts the Chang river, and causes rain-storms. [47] In
Greenland it is Erleursortok, who suffers perpetual agues, and leaps
on souls at death to satisfy his hunger. The Chenoos (demons) of the
Mimacs of Nova Scotia present certain features of the race-demons,
but are fearfully cold. The Chenoo weapon is a dragon's horn, his
yell is fatal to the hearer, his heart is a block of ice. This heart
must be destroyed if the demon is to be slain, but it can only be
done by melting in the fire: the chief precaution required is that
one is not drowned in the flood so caused. The icy demon survived
long in Scotland. Sir James Melville, in his 'Memoirs,' says 'the
spirit or devil that helped the Scottish witches to raise a storm
in the sea of Norway was cold as ice and his body hard as iron;
his face was terrible, his nose like the beak of an eagle, great
burning eyes, his hands and legs hairy, with claws on his nails like
a griffin.' Dr. Fian was burnt for raising this demon to oppose James
I. on his stormy passage from Denmark.
This type of demon haunted people's minds in Scandinavia, where,
though traditions of a flame demon (Loki) and the end of the world
by fire were imported, the popular belief seems to have been mainly
occupied with Frost giants, and the formidable Oegir, god of the
bleak sea east winds, preserved in our word awe (Anglo-Saxon ege),
and more directly in the name of our familiar demon, the Ogre,
so often slain in the child's Gladsheim. Loki (fire) was, indeed,
speedily relegated by the Æsir (gods) to a hidden subterraneous
realm, where his existence could only be known by the earthquakes,
geysers, and Hecla eruptions which he occasioned. Yet he was to come
forth at Ragnarök, the Twilight of the Gods. We can see a singular
blending of tropical and frigid zones--the one traditional, the other
native--in the Prose Edda. Thus:--'What will remain,' said Gangler,
'after heaven and earth and the whole universe shall be consumed,
and after all the gods and the homes of Valhalla and all mankind
shall have perished?' 'There will be many abodes,' replied Thridi,
'some good, some bad. The best place of all to be in will be Gimil,
in heaven; and all who delight in quaffing good drink will find a
great store in the hall called Brimir, which is also in heaven in the
region Okolni. There is also a fair hall of ruddy gold, (for) Sindri,
which stands on the mountains of Nida. In those halls righteous and
well-minded men shall abide. In Ná-strönd there is a vast and direful
structure with doors that face the north. It is formed entirely of the
backs of serpents, wattled together like wicker-work. But the serpents'
heads are turned towards the inside of the hall, and continually vomit
forth floods of venom, in which wade all those who commit murder or
who forswear themselves. As it is said in the Völuspá:--
She saw a hall
Far from the sun
In Náströnd standing,
Northward the doors look,
And venom-drops
Fall in through loopholes.
Formed is that hall
Of wreathed serpents.
There saw she wade
Through heavy streams
Men forsworn
And murderers.
These names for the heavenly regions and their occupants indicate
sunshine and fire. Gimil means fire (gímr): Brimir (brími, flame),
the giant, and Sindri (cinder), the dwarf, jeweller of the gods,
are raised to halls of gold. Nothing is said of a garden, or walking
therein 'in the cool of the day.' On the other hand, Ná-strönd means
Strand of the Dead, in that region whose 'doors face the north, far
from the sun,' we behold an inferno of extreme cold. Christianity
has not availed to give the Icelanders any demonic name suggestive of
fire. They speak of 'Skratti' (the roarer, perhaps our Old Scratch),
and 'Kolski' (the coal black one), but promise nothing so luminous
and comfortable as fire or fire-fiend to the evil-doer.
In the great Epic of the Nibelungen Lied we have probably the shape
in which the Northman's dream of Paradise finally cohered,--a
Rose-garden in the South, guarded by a huge Worm (water-snake,
or glittering glacial sea intervening), whose glowing charms, with
Beauty (Chriemhild) for their queen, could be won only by a brave
dragon-slaying Siegfried. In passing by the pretty lakeside home of
Richard Wagner, on my way to witness the Ammergau version of another
dragon-binding and paradise-regaining legend, I noted that the
old name of the (Starnberg) lake was Wurmsee, from the dragon that
once haunted it, while from the composer's window might be seen its
'Isle of Roses,' which the dragon guarded. Since then the myth of
many forms has had its musical apotheosis at Bayreuth under his wand.
England, partly perhaps on account of its harsh climate, once had the
reputation of being the chief abode of demons. A demoness leaving her
lover on the Continent says, 'My mother is calling me in England.' [48]
But England assigned them still higher latitudes; in christianising
Ireland, Iona, and other islands far north, it was preliminary to
expel the demons. 'The Clavie,' the 'Deis-iuil' of Lewis and other
Hebrides islands--fire carried round cattle to defend them from demons,
and around mothers not yet churched, to keep the babes from being
'changed'--show that the expulsion still goes on, though in such
regions Norse and christian notions have become so jumbled that it is
'fighting the devil with fire.' So in the Havamal men are warned to
invoke 'fire for distempers;' and Gudrun sings--
Raise, ye Jarls, an oaken pile;
Let it under heaven the lightest be.
May it burn a breast full of woes!
The fire round my heart its sorrows melt.
The last line is in contrast with the Hindu saying, 'the flame of
her husband's pyre cools the widow's breast.'
The characters of the Northern Heaven and Hell survive in the English
custom of burying the dead on the southern side of a church. How widely
this usage prevailed in Brand's time may be seen by reference to his
chapter on churchyards. The north side of the graveyard was set apart
for unbaptized infants and executed criminals, and it was permitted
the people to dance or play tennis in that part. Dr. Lee says that in
the churchyard at Morwenstow the southern portion only contains graves,
the north part being untenanted; as the Cornish believe (following old
traditions) that the north is the region of demons. In some parishes
of Cornwall when a baptism occurs the north door of the nave opposite
the font is thrown open, so that the devil cast out may retire to his
own region, the north. [49] This accords with the saying in Martin's
'Month's Mind'--ab aquilone omne malum.
Indeed, it is not improbable that the fact noted by White, in his
'History of Selborne,' that 'the usual approach to most country
churches is by the south,' indicated a belief that the sacred edifice
should turn its back on the region of demons. It is a singular instance
of survival which has brought about the fact that people who listen
devoutly to sermons describing the fiery character of Satan and his
abode should surround the very churches in which those sermons are
heard with evidences of their lingering faith that the devil belongs to
the region of ice, and that their dead must be buried in the direction
of the happy abodes of Brimir and Sindri,--Fire and Cinders!
M. François Lenormant has written an extremely instructive chapter
in comparison of the Accadian and the Finnish mythologies. He there
shows that they are as one and the same tree, adapted to antagonistic
climates. [50] With similar triad, runes, charms, and even names in
some cases, their regard for the fire worshipped by both varies in a
way that seems at first glance somewhat anomalous. The Accadians in
their fire-worship exhausted the resources of praise in ascription of
glory and power to the flames; the Finns in their cold home celebrated
the fire festival at the winter solstice, uttered invocations over
the fire, and the mother of the family, with her domestic libation,
said: 'Always rise so high, O my flame, but burn not larger nor more
ardent!' This diminution of enthusiasm in the Northern fire-worshipper,
as compared with the Southern, may only be the result of euphemism in
the latter; or perhaps while the formidable character of the fire-god
among the primitive Assyrians is indicated in the utter prostration
before him characteristic of their litanies and invocations, in the
case of the Finns the perpetual presence of the more potent cold
led to the less excessive adoration. These ventured to recognise the
faults of fire.
The true nature of this anomaly becomes visible when we consider
that the great demon, dreaded by the two countries drawing their
cult from a common source, represented the excess of the power most
dreaded. The demon in each case was a wind; among the Finns the north
wind, among the Accadians the south-west (the most fiery) wind. The
Finnish demon was Hiisi, speeding on his pale horse through the air,
with a terrible train of monster dogs, cats, furies, scattering pain,
disease, and death. [51] The Accadian demon, of which the bronze image
is in the Louvre, is the body of a dog, erect on eagle's feet, its arms
pointed with lion's paws; it has the tail of a scorpion and the head of
a skeleton, half stripped of flesh, preserving the eyes, and mounted
with the horns of a goat. It has four outspread wings. On the back
of this ingeniously horrible image is an inscription in the Accadian
language, apprising us that it is the demon of the south-west wind,
made to be placed at the door or window, to avert its hostile action.
As we observe such figures as these on the one hand, and on the other
the fair beings imagined to be antagonistic to them; as we note in
runes and incantations how intensely the ancients felt themselves to
be surrounded by these good and evil powers, and, reading nature so,
learned to see in the seasons successively conquering and conquered
by each other, and alternation of longer days and longer nights, the
changing fortunes of a never-ending battle; we may better realise
the meaning of solstitial festivals, the customs that gathered
around Yuletide and New Year, and the manifold survivals from them
which annually masquerade in Christian costume and names. To our
sun-worshipping ancestor the new year meant the first faint advantage
of the warmer time over winter, as nearly as he could fix it. The
hovering of day between superiority of light and darkness is now named
after doubting Thomas. At Yuletide the dawning victory of the sun is
seen as a holy infant in a manger amid beasts of the stall. The old
nature-worship has bequeathed to christian belief a close-fitting
mantle. But the old idea of a war between the wintry and the warm
powers still haunts the period of the New Year; and the twelve days
and nights, once believed to be the period of a fiercely-contested
battle between good and evil demons, are still regarded by many
as a period for especial watchfulness and prayer. New Year's Eve,
in the north of England still 'Hogmanay,'--probably O. N. höku-nött,
midwinter-night, when the sacrifices of Thor were prepared,--formerly
had many observances which reflected the belief that good and evil
ghosts were contending for every man and woman: the air was believed
to be swarming with them, and watch must be kept to see that the
protecting fire did not go out in any household; that no strange man,
woman, or animal approached,--possibly a demon in disguise. Sacred
plants were set in doors and windows to prevent the entrance of any
malevolent being from the multitudes filling the air. John Wesley,
whose noble heart was allied with a mind strangely open to stories
of hobgoblins, led the way of churches and sects back into this
ancient atmosphere. Nevertheless, the rationalism of the age has
influenced St. Wesley's Feast--Watchnight. It can hardly recognise
its brother in the Boar's Head Banquet of Queen's College, Oxford,
which celebrated victory over tusky winter, the decapitated demon
whose bristles were once icicles fallen beneath the sylvan spirits
of holly and rosemary. Yet what the Watchnight really signifies in
the antiquarian sense is just that old culminating combat between the
powers of fire and frost, once believed to determine human fates. In
White Russia, on New Year's Day, when the annual elemental battle has
been decided, the killed and wounded on one hand, and the fortunate
on the other, are told by carrying from house to house the rich and
the poor Kolyadas. These are two children, one dressed in fine attire,
and crowned with a wreath of full ears of grain, the other ragged, and
wearing a wreath of threshed straw. These having been closely covered,
each householder is called in, and chooses one. If his choice chances
upon the 'poor Kolyada,' the attending chorus chant a mournful strain,
in which he is warned to expect a bad harvest, poverty, and perhaps
death; if he selects the 'rich Kolyada,' a cheerful song is sung
promising him harvest, health, and wealth.
The natives of certain districts of Dardistan assign political and
social significance to their Feast of Fire, which is celebrated in the
month preceding winter, at new moon, just after their meat provision
for the season is laid in to dry. Their legend is, that it was then
their national hero slew their ancient tyrant and introduced good
government. This legend, related elsewhere, is of a tyrant slain
through the discovery that his heart was made of snow. He was slain
by the warmth of torches. In the celebrations all the men of the
villages go forth with torches, which they swing round their heads,
and throw in the direction of Ghilgit, where the snow-hearted tyrant
so long held his castle. When the husbands return home from their
torch-throwing a little drama is rehearsed. The wives refuse them
entrance till they have entreated, recounting the benefits they have
brought them; after admission the husband affects sulkiness, and must
be brought round with caresses to join in the banquet. The wife leads
him forward with this song:--'Thou hast made me glad, thou favourite
of the Rajah! Thou hast rejoiced me, oh bold horseman! I am pleased
with thee who so well usest the gun and sword! Thou hast delighted
me, oh thou invested with a mantle of honours! Oh great happiness,
I will buy it by giving pleasure's price! Oh thou nourishment to us,
heap of corn, store of ghee--delighted will I buy it all by giving
pleasure's price!'
CHAPTER IV.
ELEMENTS.
A Scottish Munasa--Rudra--Siva's lightning eye--The flaming
sword--Limping demons--Demons of the storm--Helios, Elias,
Perun--Thor arrows--The Bob-tailed Dragon--Whirlwind--Japanese
thunder god--Christian survivals--Jinni--Inundations--Noah--Nik,
Nicholas, Old Nick--Nixies--Hydras--Demons of the
Danube--Tides--Survivals in Russia and England.
During some recent years curious advertisements have appeared in a
journal of Edinburgh, calling for pious persons to occupy certain
hours of the night with holy exercises. It would appear that they
refer to a band of prayerful persons who provide that there shall
be an unbroken round of prayers during every moment of the day and
night. Their theory is, that it is the usual cessation of christian
prayers at night which causes so many disasters. The devils being then
less restrained, raise storms and all elemental perils. The praying
circle, which hopes to bind these demons by an uninterrupted chain of
prayers, originated, as I am informed, in the pious enthusiasm of a
lady whose kindly solicitude in some pre-existent sister was no doubt
personified in the Hindu Munasa, who, while all gods slept, sat in the
shape of a serpent on a branch of Euphorbia to preserve mankind from
the venom of snakes. It is to be feared, however, that it is hardly
the wisdom of the serpent which is on prayerful watch at Edinburgh,
but rather a vigilance of that perilous kind which was exercised by
'Meggie o' the Shore,' anno 1785, as related by Hugh Miller. [52]
On a boisterous night, when two young girls had taken refuge in her
cottage, they all heard about midnight cries of distress mingling
with the roar of the sea, 'Raise the window curtain and look out,'
said Meggie. The terrified girls did so, and said, 'There is a bright
light in the middle of the Bay of Udall. It hangs over the water about
the height of a ship's mast, and we can see something below it like
a boat riding at anchor, with the white sea raging around her.' 'Now
drop the curtain,' said Meggie; 'I am no stranger, my lasses, to
sights and noises like these--sights and noises of another world;
but I have been taught that God is nearer to me than any spirit can
be; and so have learned not to be afraid.' Afterwards it is not
wonderful that a Cromarty yawl was discovered to have foundered,
and all on board to have been drowned; though Meggie's neighbours
seemed to have preserved the legend after her faith, and made the
scene described a premonition of what actually occurred. It was in
a region where mariners when becalmed invoke the wind by whistling;
and both the whistling and the praying, though their prospects in
the future may be slender, have had a long career in the past.
In the 'Rig-Veda' there is a remarkable hymn to Rudra (the Roarer),
which may be properly quoted here:--
1. Sire of the storm gods, let thy favour extend to us; shut us not
out from the sight of the sun; may our hero be successful in the
onslaught. O Rudra, may we wax mighty in our offspring.
2. Through the assuaging remedies conferred by thee, O Rudra, may
we reach a hundred winters; drive away far from us hatred, distress,
and all-pervading diseases.
3. Thou, O Rudra, art the most excellent of beings in glory, the
strongest of the strong, O wielder of the bolt; bear us safely through
evil to the further shore; ward off all the assaults of sin.
4. May we not provoke thee to anger, O Rudra, by our adorations,
neither through faultiness in praises, nor through wantonness in
invocations; lift up our heroes by thy remedies; thou art, I hear,
the chief physician among physicians.
5. May I propitiate with hymns this Rudra who is worshipped with
invocations and oblations; may the tender-hearted, easily-entreated,
tawny-haired, beautiful-chinned god not deliver us up to the plotter
of evil [literally, to the mind meditating 'I kill'].
6. The bounteous giver, escorted by the storm-gods, hath gladdened
me, his suppliant, with most invigorating food; as one distressed by
heat seeketh the shade, may I, free from harm, find shelter in the
good-will of Rudra.
7. Where, O Rudra, is that gracious hand of thine, which is healing
and comforting? Do thou, removing the evil which cometh from the gods,
O bounteous giver, have mercy upon me.
8. To the tawny, the fair-complexioned dispenser of bounties, I send
forth a great and beautiful song of praise; adore the radiant god
with prostrations; we hymn the illustrious name of Rudra.
9. Sturdy-limbed, many-shaped, fierce, tawny, he hath decked himself
with brilliant ornaments of gold; truly strength is inseparable from
Rudra, the sovereign of this vast world.
10. Worthy of worship, thou bearest the arrows and the bow; worthy of
worship, thou wearest a resplendent necklace of many forms; worthy
of worship, thou rulest over this immense universe; there is none,
O Rudra, mightier than thou.
11. Celebrate the renowned and ever-youthful god who is seated on a
chariot, who is, like a wild beast, terrible, fierce, and destructive;
have mercy upon the singer, O Rudra, when thou art praised; may thy
hosts strike down another than us.
12. As a boy saluteth his father who approacheth and speaketh to him,
so, O Rudra, I greet thee, the giver of much, the lord of the good;
grant us remedies when thou art praised.
13. Your remedies, O storm-gods, which are pure and helping, O
bounteous givers, which are joy-conferring, which our father Manu
chose, these and the blessing and succour of Rudra I crave.
14. May the dart of Rudra be turned aside from us, may the great
malevolence of the flaming-god be averted; unbend thy strong bow
from those who are liberal with their wealth; O generous god, have
mercy upon our offspring and our posterity (i.e., our children and
children's children).
15. Thus, O tawny Rudra, wise giver of gifts, listen to our cry,
give heed to us here, that thou mayest not be angry with us, O god,
nor slay us; may we, rich in heroic sons, utter great praise at the
sacrifice. [53]
In other hymns the malevolent character of Rudra is made still more
prominent:--
7. Slay not our strong man nor our little child, neither him who
is growing nor him who is grown, neither our father nor our mother;
hurt not, O Rudra, our dear selves.
8. Harm us not in our children and children's children, nor in our men,
nor in our kine, nor in our horses. Smite not our heroes in thy wrath;
we wait upon thee perpetually with offerings. [54]
In this hymn (verse 1) Rudra is described as 'having braided hair;'
and in the 'Yajur-veda' and the 'Atharva-veda' other attributes
of Siva are ascribed to him, such as the epithet nîla-grîva, or
blue-necked. In the 'Rig-veda' Siva occurs frequently as an epithet,
and means auspicious. It was used as a euphemistic epithet to appease
Rudra, the lord of tempests; and finally, the epithet developed into
a distinct god.
The parentage of Siva is further indicated in the legends that
his glance destroyed the head of the youthful deity Ganesa,
who now wears the elephant head, with which it was replaced; and
that the gods persuaded him to keep his eyes perpetually winking
(like sheet-lightning), lest his concentrated look (the thunderbolt)
should reduce the universe to ashes. With the latter legend the gaze
of the evil eye in India might naturally be associated, though in
the majority of countries this was rather associated with the malign
influences ascribed to certain planets, especially Saturn; the charms
against the evil eye being marked over with zodiacal signs. The very
myth of Siva's eye survives in the Russian demon Magarko ('Winker')
and the Servian Vii, whose glance is said to have power to reduce men,
and even cities, to ashes.
The terrible Rudra is represented in a vast number of beliefs, some
of them perhaps survivals; in the rough sea and east-wind demon Oegir
of the northern world, and Typhon in the south; and in Luther's faith
that 'devils do house in the dense black clouds, and send storms,
hail, thunder and lightning, and poison the air with their infernal
stench,' a doctrine which Burton, the Anatomist of Melancholy, too,
maintained against the meteorologists of his time.
Among the ancient Aryans lightning seems to have been the supreme type
of divine destructiveness. Rudra's dart, Siva's eye, reappear with
the Singhalese prince of demons Wessamonny, described as wielding a
golden sword, which, when he is angry, flies out of his hand, to which
it spontaneously returns, after cutting off a thousand heads. [55]
A wonderful spear was borne by Odin, and was possibly the original
Excalibur. The four-faced Sviatevit of Russia, whose mantle has fallen
to St. George, whose statue was found at Zbrucz in 1851, bore a horn
of wine (rain) and a sword (lightning).
In Greece similar swords were wielded by Zeus, and also by the
god of war. Through Zeus and Ares, the original wielders of the
lightning--Indra and Siva--became types of many gods and semi-divine
heroes. The evil eye of Siva glared from the forehead of the Cyclopes,
forgers of thunderbolts; and the saving disc of Indra flashed in the
swords and arrows of famous dragon-slayers--Perseus, Pegasus, Hercules,
and St. George. The same sword defended the Tree of Life in Eden,
and was borne in the hand of Death on the Pale Horse (a white horse
was sacrificed to Sviatevit in Russia within christian times). And,
finally, we have the wonderful sword which obeys the command 'Heads
off!' delighting all nurseries by the service it does to the King of
the Golden Mountain.
'I beheld Satan as lightning falling out of heaven.' To the Greeks
this falling of rebellious deities out of heaven accounted, as we
have seen explained, for their lameness. But a universal phenomenon
can alone account for the many demons with crooked or crippled legs
(like 'Diable Boiteux') [56] all around the world. The Namaquas of
South Africa have a 'deity' whose occupation it is to cause pain
and death; his name is Tsui'knap, that is 'wounded knee.' [57]
Livingstone says of the Bakwains, another people of South Africa,
'It is curious that in all their pretended dreams or visions of
their god he has always a crooked leg, like the Egyptian Thau.' [58]
In Mainas, South America, they believe in a treacherous demon,
Uchuella-chaqui, or Lame-foot, who in dark forests puts on a friendly
shape to lure Indians to destruction; but the huntsmen say they can
never be deceived if they examine this demon's foot-track, because
of the unequal size of the two feet. [59] The native Australians
believed in a demon named Biam; he is black and deformed in his lower
extremities; they attributed to him many of their songs and dances,
but also a sort of small-pox to which they were liable. [60] We have
no evidence that these superstitions migrated from a common centre;
and there can be little doubt that many of these crooked legs are
traceable to the crooked lightning. [61] At the same time this is by
no means inconsistent with what has been already said of the fall of
Titans and angels from heaven as often accounting for their lameness
in popular myths. But in such details it is hard to reach certainty,
since so many of the facts bear a suspicious resemblance to each
other. A wild boar with 'distorted legs' attacked St. Godric, and
the temptation is strong to generalise on the story, but the legs
probably mean only to certify that it was the devil.
Dr. Schliemann has unearthed among his other treasures the remarkable
fact that a temple of Helios (the sun) once stood near the site of
the present Church of Elias, at Mycenæ, which has from time immemorial
been the place to which people repair to pray for rain. [62] When the
storm-breeding Sun was succeeded by the Prophet whose prayer evoked
the cloud, even the name of the latter did not need to be changed. The
discovery is the more interesting because it has always been a part
of the christian folklore of that region that, when a storm with
lightning occurs, it is 'Elias in his chariot of fire.' A similar
phrase is used in some part of every Aryan country, with variation
of the name: it is Woden, or King Waldemar, or the Grand Veneur,
or sometimes God, who is said to be going forth in his chariot.
These storm-demons in their chariots have their forerunner in Vata
or Vayu, the subject of one of the most beautiful Vedic hymns. 'I
celebrate the glory of Vata's chariot; its noise comes rending and
resounding. Touching the sky he moves onward, making all things ruddy;
and he comes propelling the dust of the earth.
'Soul of the gods, source of the universe, this deity moves as he
lists. His sounds have been heard, but his form is not seen; this
Vata let us worship with an oblation.' [63]
This last verse, as Mr. Muir has pointed out, bears a startling
resemblance to the passage in John, 'The Wind bloweth where it listeth,
and thou canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth; so is
every one that is born of the Wind.' [64]
But an equally striking development of the Vedic idea is represented
in the Siamese legend of Buddha, and in this case the Vedic Wind-god
Vayu reappears by name for the Angels of Tempests, or Loka Phayu. The
first portent which preceded the descent of Buddha from the Tushita
heavens was 'when the Angels of the Tempest, clothed in red garments,
and with streaming hair, travel among the abodes of mankind crying,
'Attend all ye who are near to death; repent and be not heedless! The
end of the world approaches, but one hundred thousand years more
and it will be destroyed. Exert yourselves, then, exert yourselves
to acquire merit. Above all things be charitable; abstain from doing
evil; meditate with love to all beings, and listen to the teachings of
holiness. For we are all in the mouth of the king of death. Strive then
earnestly for meritorious fruits, and seek that which is good.' [65]
Not less remarkable is the Targum of Jonathan Ben Uzziel to 1 Kings
xix., where around Elias on the mountain gather 'a host of angels of
the wind, cleaving the mountain and breaking the rocks before the
Lord;' and after these, 'angels of commotion,' and next 'of fire,'
and, finally, 'voices singing in silence' preceded the descent of
Jehovah. It can hardly be wondered that a prophet of whom this story
was told, and that of the storm evoked from a small cloud, should
be caught up into that chariot of the Vedic Vayu which has rolled on
through all the ages of mythology.
Mythologic streams seem to keep their channels almost as steadfastly
as rivers, but as even these change at last or blend, so do the old
traditions. Thus we find that while Thor and Odin remain as separate
in survivals as Vayu and Parjanya in India, in Russia Elias has
inherited not the mantle of the wind-god or storm-breeding sun,
but of the Slavonic Thunderer Perun. There is little doubt that
this is Parjanya, described in the 'Rig-Veda' as 'the thunderer,
the showerer, the bountiful,' [66] who 'strikes down trees' and 'the
wicked.' 'The people of Novgorod,' says Herberstein, 'formerly offered
their chief worship and adoration to a certain idol named Perun. When
subsequently they received baptism they removed it from its place,
and threw it into the river Volchov; and the story goes that it swam
against the stream, and that near the bridge a voice was heard saying,
'This for you, O inhabitants of Novgorod, in memory of me;' and at
the same time a certain rope was thrown upon the bridge. Even now
it happens from time to time on certain days of the year that this
voice of Perun may be heard, and on these occasions the citizens run
together and lash each other with ropes, and such a tumult arises
therefrom that all the efforts of the governor can scarcely assuage
it.' [67] The statue of Perun in Kief, says Mr. Ralston, had a trunk
of wood, while the head was of silver, with moustaches of gold, and
among its weapons was a mace. Afanasief states that in White-Russian
traditions Perun is tall and well-shaped, with black hair and a long
golden beard. This beard relates him to Barbarossa, and, perhaps,
though distantly, with the wood-demon Barbatos, the Wild Archer,
who divined by the songs of birds. [68] Perun also has a bow which is
'sometimes identified with the rainbow, an idea which is known also to
the Finns. From it, according to the White Russians, are shot burning
arrows, which set on fire all things that they touch. In many parts of
Russia (as well as of Germany) it is supposed that these bolts sink
deep into the soil, but that at the end of three or seven years they
return to the surface in the shape of longish stones of a black or dark
grey colour--probably belemnites, or masses of fused sand--which are
called thunderbolts, and considered as excellent preservations against
lightning and conflagrations. The Finns call them Ukonkiwi--the stone
of thunder-god Ukko, and in Courland their name is Perkuhnsteine, which
explains itself. In some cases the flaming dart of Perun became, in the
imagination of the people, a golden key. With it he unlocked the earth,
and brought to light its concealed treasures, its restrained waters,
its captive founts of light. With it also he locked away in safety
fugitives who wished to be put out of the power of malignant conjurors,
and performed various other good offices. Appeals to him to exercise
these functions still exist in the spells used by the peasants,
but his name has given way to that of some christian personage. In
one of them, for instance, the Archangel Michael is called upon to
secure the invoker behind an iron door fastened by twenty-seven locks,
the keys of which are given to the angels to be carried to heaven. In
another, John the Baptist is represented as standing upon a stone in
the Holy Sea [i.e., in heaven], resting upon an iron crook or staff,
and is called upon to stay the flow of blood from a wound, locking
the invoker's veins 'with his heavenly key.' In this case the myth has
passed into a rite. In order to stay a violent bleeding from the nose,
a locked padlock is brought, and the blood is allowed to drop through
its aperture, or the sufferer grasps a key in each hand, either plan
being expected to prove efficacious. As far as the key is concerned,
the belief seems to be still maintained among ourselves.' [69]
The Key has a holy sense in various religions, and consequently an
infernal key is its natural counterpart. The Vedic hymns, which say
so much about the shutting and opening, imprisoning and releasing,
of heavenly rains and earthly fruits by demons and deities, interpret
many phenomena of nature, and the same ideas have arisen in many
lands. We cannot be certain, therefore, that Calmet is right in
assigning an Indian origin to the subjoined Figure 5, an ancient
Persian medal. The signs of the zodiac on its body show it to be one
of those celestial demons believed able to bind the beneficent or
loose the formidable powers of nature. The Key is of especial import
in Hebrew faith. It was the high-priest Eliakim's symbol of office,
as being also prefect in the king's house. 'The key of the house of
David will I lay upon his shoulder: he shall open and none shall shut;
he shall shut and none shall open.' [70] The Rabbins had a saying
that God reserves to himself four keys, which he will intrust not
even to the angels: the key of rain, the key of the grave, the key of
fruitfulness, and the key of barrenness. It was the sign of one set
above angels when Christ was seen with the keys of Hell and Death,
or when he delivered the keys of heaven to Peter, [71]--still thrust
down the backs of protestant children to cure nose-bleed.
The ubiquitous superstition which attributes the flint arrows of
pre-historic races to gods, shot by them as lightning, and, as some
said, from a rainbow, is too childlike a theory to call for elaborate
treatment. We need not, ethnographically, connect our 'Thor arrows'
and 'Elf shots' with the stones hurled at mortals by the Thunder-Duke
(Lui-tsz) of China. The ancient Parthians, who used to reply to the
thunderstorm by shooting arrows at it, and the Turks, who attack an
eclipse with guns, fairly represent the infancy of the human race,
though perhaps with more than its average pluck. Dr. Macgowan relates,
concerning the Lei-chau (Thunder District) of China, various myths
which resemble those which surround the world. After thunderstorms,
black stones, it is believed, may be found which emit light and
peculiar sounds on being struck. In a temple consecrated to the
Thunder Duke the people annually place a drum for that stormy demon
to beat. The drum was formerly left on a mountain-top with a little
boy as a sacrifice. [72] Mr. Dennys [73] speaks of the belief in the
same country that violent winds and typhoons are caused by the passage
through the air of the 'Bob-tailed Dragon,' and also of the rain-god
Yü-Shüh. A storm-god connected with the 'Eagre,' or bore of the river
Tsien-tang, presents a coincidence of name with the Scandinavian
Oegir, which would be hardly noticeable were it not for the very close
resemblance between the folklore concerning the 'Bob-tailed Dragon'
and the storm-dragons of several Aryan races. Generally, in both
China and Japan the Dragon is regarded with a veneration equal to
the horror with which the serpent is visited. Of this phenomenon and
its analogies in Britain I shall have an explanation to submit when
we come to consider Dragon-myths more particularly. To this general
rule the 'Bob-tailed Dragon' of China is a partial exception. His
fidelity as a friend led to the ill return of an attack by which his
tail was amputated, and ever since his soured temper has shown itself
in raising storms. When a violent tempest arises the Cantonese say,
'The Bob-tailed Dragon is passing,' in the same proverbial way as the
Aryan peasantries attribute the same phenomenon to their storm-gods.
The notion is widely prevalent in some districts of France that
all whirlwinds, however slight, are caused by wizards or witches,
who are in them, careering through the air; and it is stated by the
Melusine that in the department of the Orne storms are attributed
to the clergy, who are supposed to be circling in them. The same
excellent journal states that some years ago, in that department, a
parishioner who saw his crops threatened by a hail-storm fired into
the cloud. The next day he heard that the parish priest had broken
his leg by a fall for which he could not account.
The following examples are given by Kuhn. Near Stangenhagen is a
treasure hid in a mountain which Lord von Thümen tried to seek,
but was caught up with his horse by a whirlwind and deposited at
home again. The Devil is believed to be seated at the centre of
every whirlwind. At Biesenthal it is said a noble lady became the
Wind's bride. She was in her time a famous rider and huntress, who
rode recklessly over farmers' fields and gardens; now she is herself
hunted by snakes and dragons, and may be heard howling in every storm.
I suspect that the bristling hair so frequently portrayed in the
Japanese Oni, Devils, refers to their frequent residence at the
centre of a gale of wind. Their demon of the storm is generally
pictured throned upon a flower of flames, his upraised and extended
fingers emitting the most terrific lightnings, which fall upon his
victims and envelop them in flames. Sometimes, however, the Japanese
artists poke fun at their thunder-god, and show him sprawling on the
ground from the recoil of his own lightnings. The following extract
from The Christian Herald (London, April 12, 1877) will show how
far the dread of this Japanese Oni extends: 'A pious father writes,
'A few days ago there was a severe thunderstorm, which seemed to
gather very heavily in the direction where my son lived; and I had
a feeling that I must go and pray that he might be protected, and
not be killed by the lightning. The impression seemed to say, 'There
is no time to be lost.' I obeyed, and went and knelt down and prayed
that the Lord would spare his life. I believe he heard my prayer. My
son called on me afterwards, and, speaking of the shower, said,
'The lightning came downwards and struck the very hoe in my hands,
and numbed me.' I said, 'Perhaps you would have been killed if some
one had not been praying for you.' Since then he has been converted,
and, I trust, will be saved in God's everlasting kingdom.''
Such paragraphs may now strike even many christians as 'survivals.' But
it is not so very long since some eminent clergymen looked upon
Benjamin Franklin as the heaven-defying Ajax of Christendom, because
he undertook to show people how they might divert the lightnings
from their habitations. In those days Franklin personally visited a
church at Streatham, whose steeple had been struck by lightning, and,
after observing the region, gave an opinion that if the steeple were
again erected without a lightning-rod, it would again be struck. The
audacious man who 'snatched sceptres from tyrants and lightnings
from heaven,' as the proverb ran, was not listened to: the steeple
was rebuilt, and again demolished by lightning.
The supreme god of the Quichuas (American), Viracocha ('sea foam'),
rises out of Lake Titicaca, and journeys with lightnings for
all opposers, to disappear in the Western Ocean. The Quichua is
mentally brother of the Arab camel-driver. 'The sea,' it is said
in the 'Arabian Nights,'--'the sea became troubled before them, and
there arose from it a black pillar, ascending towards the sky, and
approaching the meadow,' and 'behold it was a Jinn [74] of gigantic
stature.' The Jinn is sometimes helpful as it is formidable; it repays
the fisherman who unseals it from the casket fished up from the sea,
as fruitfulness comes out of the cloud no larger than a man's hand
evoked by Elijah. The perilous Jinn described in the above extract is
the waterspout. Waterspouts are attributed in China to the battles
of dragons in the air, and the same country recognises a demon of
high tides. The newest goddess in China is a canonised protectress
against the shipwrecking storm-demons of the coast, an exaltation
recently proclaimed by the Government of the empire in obedience,
as the edict stated, to the belief prevailing among sailors. In this
the Chinese are a long way behind the mariners and fishermen of the
French coast, who have for centuries, by a pious philology, connected
'Maria' with 'La Marée' and 'La Mer;' and whenever they have been
saved from storms, bring their votive offerings to sea-side shrines
of the Star of the Sea.
The old Jewish theology, in its eagerness to claim for Jehovah the
absolutism which would make him 'Lord of lords,' instituted his
responsibility for many doubtful performances, the burthen of which
is now escaped by the device of saying that he 'permitted' them. In
this way the Elohim who brought on the Deluge have been identified
with Jehovah. None the less must we see in the biblical account
of the Flood the action of tempestuous water-demons. What power a
christian would recognise in such an event were it related in the
sacred books of another religion may be seen in the vision of the
Apocalypse--'The Serpent cast out of his mouth a flood of water after
the woman, that he might cause her to be carried away with the flood;
and the earth helped the woman and opened its mouth and swallowed up
the flood.' This Demon of Inundation meets the explorer of Egyptian
and Accadian inscriptions at every turn. The terrible Seven, whom
even the God of Fire cannot control, 'break down the banks of the
Abyss of Waters.' [75] The God of the Tigris, Tourtak (Tartak
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