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.
1. Du Perron, ‘Vie de Zoroastre.’
2. The principle similia similibus curantur is a very ancient one; but though it may have originated in a euphemistic or propitiatory aim, the homoeopathist may claim that it could hardly have lived unless it had been found to have some practical advantages.
3. Sonnerat’s ‘Travels,’ ii. 38.
4. Deutsch, ‘Literary Remains,’ p. 178.
5. Isa. lvii. 5; Ezek. xvi. 20; Jer. xix. 5.
6. The ‘Jewish World.’
7. ‘Observations on Popular Antiquities,’ &c., by John Brand. With the additions of Sir Henry Ellis. An entirely new and revised edition. Chatto & Windus, 1877. See especially the chapter on ‘Summer Solstice,’ p. 165.
8. ‘Pyra, a bonefire, wherein men’s bodyes were burned.’—Cooper’s Thesaurus. Probably from Fr. bon; Wedgewood gives Dan. baun, beacon.
9. See Chapter i. Compare Numbers xxxi. 23.
10. Numbers xix. 17.
11. Ibid. xix. 2, seq.
12. ‘Folklore of China,’ p. 121.
13. In Russia the pigeon, from being anciently consecrated to the thunder god, has become emblem of the Holy Ghost, or celestial fire, and as such the foe of earthly fire. Pigeons are trusted as insurers against fire, and the flight of one through a house is regarded as a kindly warning of conflagration.
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.1 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.2
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