Chapter IX

There is scarcely a single article in our current belief which does not prove, on examination, to have descended to us from Pagan sources, or to be identical with heathen beliefs older than the Hebrew. The idea of a personal God dwelling in some locality, vaguely described as "Heaven," in which He reigns, and rules, like a modern emperor, has been found to exist in almost every nation whose language we know, and whose history has descended to us. Human weakness makes it so. Such a ruler has been called Brahma, Siva, Vishnu, Mahadeva, Bel or Baal, Melech or Moloch, Ormazd, Elohim, Jah, Jehovah, Jupiter, Yahu, God, and a variety of other names; but He has always been hailed as king, and lord of all creation, having a throne beside which attend a number of servitors, standing before and around him, all ready to do his bidding and to go wherever they are sent. As a potentate rules on earth over provinces far distant from the central government, so the heavenly monarch was, and is yet, supposed to have "viceroys," "lieutenants," or "vicars," who have authority delegated to them, and exercise it under his superintendence.

A scheme such as we have described does not seem to have existed from the first amongst the Jews; for, when men of reasoning powers conceived the idea of a Creator, He was regarded as omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. It became gradually interwoven with theology; for when men of limited capacity thought of such a vast empire as the universe, they, under the influence of a grovelling anthropomorphism, recognized, as they imagined, the necessity of furnishing it with a system of acquiring intelligence, and promulgating decrees which should be far superior to any postal plan devised by human kings. Amongst the Kaffirs, men with missives race against time, and by means of relays, messages are sent to vast distances in a comparatively short period. By means of horses, skilfully engaged beforehand, an ancient Persian tyrant could make his commands known all over his vast empire in the course of a few days, and moderns, by means of railways and the electric wire, can forward information at a still more rapid rate.

Yet, to old theologians, and even to observant men of the present day, all these means of communication between God and his subjects seemed to be slow. We may, for example, notice a fly buzzing round the head of the running Kaffir, or the ears of the fleetest of Persian steeds, and a swallow on the wing outstrips a railway express. The velocity of the carrier-pigeon has long been known. All these were, therefore, regarded as swift-winged creatures, and fit for message bearers. As then, it was observed, that of all beings who could move, the bird is the swiftest in its movement from place to place, it was very natural that dogmatists should represent the messengers of the great king with powerful pinions, like those of the eagle or the albatross. In this manner the addition of wings to any mythological character sufficed to show that he who bore them was a celestial being; one who stood before the supreme ruler, and received from him delegated power—either as vicar, viceroy, or messenger. Thus the Greeks depicted Mercury with wings on his legs and elsewhere, and the Hebrews gave large pinions to their seraphim—sometimes as many as six being used by each (Isa. vi. 2.) The Etruscans pictured their angels with two wings only, and we have followed, implicitly, their lead. But the Hindoos did not in early times adopt ideas such as this. They noticed the speed of the sunbeam, the velocity of the hurricane, and the rapidity of thought; and since they saw many birds borne away by the wind, they imagined that celestial messengers must travel in a corresponding fashion. For one who rode upon the clouds of the typhoon, pinions were useless. I have in my possession a plate,* in which the celestial attendants on the god are all wingless, but have sex. The name given to the attendants referred to is "Apsaras," who are described as having been produced in myriads when the ocean was churned. They are said to reside between the waters above the firmament and those below it, and are represented as being of consummate beauty and elegance of form, their business being to attend upon the gods and give them pleasure, by singing, music, dancing, and in every possible way. They are sometimes represented as being of both sexes, all having the power to change their gender. Generally, they are described as females, and take the business of Venus in the Greek heaven, and of the Houris in that provided by Mahomet and his followers. The Hindoos have in their theology an abode of bliss, in which the pleasures are wholly sensual. In this they do not differ from the Christians, except that the latter only expect to indulge in music and a sanctified vengeance.

With great ingenuity the Hebrews conceived that the will of God must be equivalent to His wish—that His wish must be the same as a command, and, consequently, that He could send His messenger from one spot to another in an instant; or, if He chose, He could go Himself and communicate personally, as He did with Abraham, Jacob, and Moses, and Joshua. For such a Being even light would be too slow (see Psalm xviii. 10; civ. 3, 4).

From a similar thought arose the stories which have found their way into our fairy mythology of "wishing caps" which would enable the bearer to pass in an instant of time, and wholly invisibly, from one part of the world to another. In oriental countries, a carpet or a coat was the carrying agent, whilst amongst the more clumsy story-tellers of Europe, a pair of boots was furnished, whose wearer could cover twenty miles at a stride.

In the plenitude of our prejudice we may smile at the caprice which invented the "wishing cap;" but if we reflect calmly upon the matter, we discover more depth of thought in this than has been shown in the formation of tales in which winged angels are introduced. The contrast will readily be recognized if we take a scene from "Fortunatus," and another from the Old Testament The former, by putting on a cap, could transport himself in a moment from Formosa to Great Britain. Whereas we learn, from Genesis xviii, that three angelic men took "a walk" from somewhere to Sodom, that they might see what sort of a place it really was. The hero in the fairy tale was not fatigued; the angels of the Hebrew mythology were glad to wash their feet, and to eat and drink, so as to recruit their energies (v. 8; Ps. lxxviii. 25.) A mythical tale like this demonstrates incontestably the mean condition of the story-teller, who does not furnish Jehovah even with a mule or ass, but makes Him go afoot.

We must, therefore, regard the theological contrivance which furnished angels with wings, as being a clumsy one; indicating superficiality, rather than profound thought, and emanating from human infirmity rather than divine inspiration or direct revelation. We shall see this more distinctly if we inquire into the ideas necessarily associated with wings.

The theologians who have furnished their ideal messengers with wings show, in the first place, that they have the idea of an air upon which the sails can strike—of muscular structures to move the pinions, and of the necessity for food to enable the motive power to be kept up. The idea of a winged angel, therefore, necessarily implies a belief in the presence of a solid material body moving through an aeriform fluid, resembling the atmosphere just above the earth's surface. That there really was this belief associated with celestial messengers we find in the Jewish scriptures, wherein it is stated, as if it were a common occurrence, that angels came to talk familiarly with men; as, for example, Gen. xviii, xix., xxxii.; and Judges i., where we are told that an angel came from Gilgal to Bochim, to deliver a statement, to the Hebrews, such as a silly girl at Lourdes asserted the Virgin Mary had come from Heaven to make to her; see also Judges xiii., and the book of Tobit.

That angels were, moreover, supposed to possess thews and sinews, we find from Gen. xxxii. 24-30, wherein we are told that some celestial being wrestled with Jacob, but could not prevail against him. In a previous chapter, although it is only in a dream, Jacob saw them mount and descend a ladder as if their wings—if they then had them—were useless.

We shall not now be far from the truth, if we affirm that winged messengers, envoys, or angels, can only be supposed to exist by individuals whose god is nothing more than a man without universal power and knowledge. To any one who believes God to be omnipresent, the idea of His having ambassadors, or vicars upon earth, is blasphemous.

The comparative coarseness of those minds which fabricated the notion of winged men, as celestial messengers, will be the more certainly recognised, if we examine into the pictorial conception which they have permitted, and still allow, to pass, for the embodiment of their idea. Let me, for example, invite the reader to cast his mental eye over the winged men-like bulls, &c., of Assyria and Babylonia; the winged genii of the ancient Egyptians; the winged soul and angel of Death of the Etruscans; the angels of ancient and modern Christian painters; and the pinioned heads which came from the walls to listen to the music of Saint Cecilia—according to Papal legends—and then to try to discover the locality of the muscular organs which are necessary to give movement to the wings. Everybody who has ever carved, at his dinner-table, a grouse, partridge, pheasant, duck, or other fowl, must be aware of the enormous mass of flesh which is associated with the wings. If we bare the breast and remove the pinion bones from any bird which flies—(it is necessary to make this proviso, for such as the dodo, the aptéryx, the ostrich, emu, and others, have wings which are only rudimentary, and not used for flight)—we find but a very meagre body remaining behind. Hence we see the necessity of furnishing an imaginary angel which has wings with muscles that will enable the pinions to be used; but in no pictorial representation of an angelic messenger do we ever find the ordinary figure of a man departed from, or any provision made for muscles to move the feathered organs. And we must notice, in passing, that it is monstrous to suppose that a man must become, in part, a bird ere he can be useful to a god!

Again, we recognize in the conventional form of angels a total absence of knowledge of natural history, of gravity, of force, &c. Let us, for example, imagine for a moment that the metaphorical wings are real ones used in flight. We see directly that they will only raise the individual perpendicularly into the air. The angelic human creature, even if his wings were—as they ought to do—to replace his arms, would still lack a tail, to use as a rudder to direct his flight. It is clear, then, that no one has seen an angel, and that those who have pretended to have done so, were deeply ignorant men. To make our observations upon this point somewhat more comprehensible, we may just refer to the fact that many individuals, misled apparently by the mass of ideal celestial men—or angels—which are to be seen in almost every cathedral or parish church in Europe, have conceived the idea that they could fly, if only they could contrive the necessary apparatus to append to their arms, legs, or both; in other words, many men have fancied that they could do better for themselves than nature has done for them. But a few minutes' calm thought would teach any one familiar with the composition of forces, that an attempt at the imitation of a bird's flight must be a failure in man. Let me show this by a simple observation: A bird extends its wings, and by a strong stroke towards its own body, rises into the air, though neither solid nor rigid, both wings and air have apparently been so. In imitation of this bird, we will now suppose that a man places himself, with arms outspread, like the letter T between two uprights, forming something like the letter U.

The individual would then be represented thus [J]—unlike the bird, his point d' appui would be solid, and his arms would be far more unyielding than feathers. Yet not one athlete in a million could spring upwards, so as to stand upon the summit of the U. Man's "pectoral muscles"—as physiologists call the mass of flesh below the collar bone and above the nipple—are intended to move the arm; the bird's pectoral muscles are intended to move the body. Cut off a man's arms and pectorals—the counterpart of the bird's wings and fleshy breast—and he has barely lost a tenth part of his weight; on the other hand, cut off the corresponding parts of a bird, i.e.t the pinions and the muscles which move them, and not a tenth part of the original weight is left behind. Speaking coarsely, we may then affirm that man's body is relatively about a hundred times heavier—air being the standard—than that of a bird, and his pectoral muscles, relatively to his body, a hundred times less in bulk. Consequently, even if a human being could, by muscular action, develop the bulk of his "pectorals," so that they should be relatively to the rest of his frame, equal to those of a bird, still his bulk would be so much more solid than that of the bird's bones, flesh, and feathers, that his power of flight would be a hundred times less. A man, with the exception of his lungs, is in health, solid or fluid, in every part of him; a bird's bones, on the contrary, are everywhere permeated by air cavities, which make them as light as pith or cotton wool. A pound of lead and a pound of feathers are certainly equal in weight, yet, if both are allowed to drop from a balloon, the first will reach the ground a long time before the second. In like manner, by contrivance, I could with my breath sustain an ounce of eiderdown in the air, although I am quite powerless to sustain, by like means, the same quantity of solid meat. I say nothing of the relative position of the shoulder-joint in man and birds—although the point is physiologically important.

Again, we may assert that the originators of the angelic mythology were absolutely ignorant of that which is called comparative anatomy. We have already expressed our belief that no one has a right to expect that people will believe in the reality of a man's knowledge respecting the unseen world, so long as he is palpably at fault in his notions respecting the visible creation. Consequently we assert that one who is careless as regards actual phenomena and ignorant of common truths, cannot be trusted in metaphorical, mythological, or divine lore.

A comparatively small amount of observation proves to us that amongst the highest classes of animal life, the wing is the counterpart of the arm or of the fore-leg. In the creature called the "flying squirrel," there is no pinion as there is in the "condor,"—there is simply an unusual development of skin which unites the fore and hind limbs much in the same way as the web unites together the toes of the goose or duck. In the bat, which, though a mammal, is allied, as regards its power of flight, to the birds, we find that the fore-leg is developed so as to make a bony frame on which a thin skin may be stretched, which is still farther strengthened by being attached to the hind leg. In the ordinary bird, the skin which we see in the bat and flying squirrel is replaced by feathers, which are longer, broader, and lighter than a fold of skin. The ordinary method, therefore, in which angelic beings are depicted does not associate them with the highest classes of animal life. Our modern artists are much more skilful in depicting Satan than in pourtraying Raphael, Gabriel, or Michael.

Our last remarks would be comparatively unimportant, were it not that the close observation which the moderns have given, to every thing connected with natural history, has shown us that there is a harmony throughout creation. No animals have noses on their backs, nor eyes in their hind legs. No insect—so far as I can remember—has a thick neck; nor has any mammal or bird a thin one, like the wasp, bee, or fly. As we imagine that it is proper to extend our knowledge rather by the lights which we have already attained, than by silly or hap-hazard guessing, so we think that it is better to investigate the subject of angelic forms by comparative anatomy, than by the dreams of divines, who probably have never studied any other subject than the best means of gaining influence over their fellow-mortals. We assert that there is not in all the creation, known to man, any creature with arms and legs—or their equivalents, legs and wings, or fore-legs and hind legs—which has, in addition, wings upon arms, legs, head, or back. In such a combination there is something monstrous. I confess that I could, if satisfactory evidence were given, credit the occurrence of a devil with a tail—of a centaur with a horse's body and a human head—but I could not possibly believe that Satan went about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he could devour in the dress of a bull with bat-like wings, as well as horns and hoofs; or that an angel of God approaches us in a form nearer to the scarabseus of Egypt than to the human form divine. Yet when we say that a pictorial angel approaches nearer to a beetle that revels in filth, than to an etherial essence which ought to be very close upon perfection, we are still far from precision. Ladybirds, cockchafers, and others of the class allied to the scarabseus that was almost deified in Egypt, have six legs, two wings, and two wing cases—ten means of locomotion in all. Butterflies, moths, and the like, have six legs and two wings. Consequently, if there be any design in creation, and angels have been created, they can only be regarded as the connecting link between the highest and the lowest classes of animal life.

If then, there be such a thing as harmony of design in Creation—if the Creator be not the author of confusion (1 Cor. xiv. 33)—if matter be material, and imponderable forces cannot be weighed or made otherwise recognisable by the senses, except by their effects—if the Almighty be omnipresent and omniscient, it is absolutely impossible for a thoughtful mind to believe in the existence of angels in any shape—whether material, immaterial, or essential. But this consideration forces us still further, and we feel compelled to ask ourselves, whether, with our minds constituted as they are, we can believe in, or understand any thing wholly immaterial? Whether we can imagine the existence, for, example, of "force" without matter?—a shape which is formless?—a form visible to the eye, yet wholly immaterial?

It seems to me to be desirable, at the present day, to call attention to this point in a particular manner, inasmuch as there are vast numbers, both in Europe and America, who believe in what is called Spiritualism, and are, in reality, as greatly the dupes of charlatans as were the disciples of Alexander the false prophet, whose history we gave in vol. II. The jargon of these pretenders is based upon the assertion in the Bible that there are spirits—the accounts of certain of these returning to the earth which they have quitted, or conversing with human beings in dreams, or in reality. But both they and their victims fail to see that a spirit, being without a material existence, cannot put matter into motion—it cannot produce the waves in the ether that cause those impressions on eye and ear which give the idea of sight and sound. We may best give our reader a glimpse of our meaning, if we compare a spirit to a picture projected on a sheet by a magic lantern. It is true that we can see it—yet we know that it is powerless to hear, to speak, to move; it cannot of itself even vanish. Yet there are many onlookers who, by a ventriloquist, can be made to believe that the picture speaks.

After prolonged observation, I believe that spirits, angels, demons, &c., have no reality except in the delusions of individuals whose diseased brains induce them to believe that they see apparitions and hear them speak. To this matter we shall probably return by and by.

We may now revert to a subject which we mentioned incidentally a few pages back—viz., the ideas which induced priestly inventors to depict the angels of their imagination in a particular form. Those who are familiar with the Bible, and not with any other book, and who decline to examine into the ways of God in the universe generally, will naturally reply to our strictures that the angels of the Jews were described in a particular fashion, because they were seen "in the visions of Elohim" (Ezek. i. 1; Dan. x. 5, 6; and Rev. i. 10-20). But this observation involves the idea that the angels which have appeared are so various in shape, that an individual who had seen and described one, could not enable another man to recognize a similar messenger when seen under another form. In Genesis xviii, xix., xxxii., and Judges xiii, angels assume the form of men; in Isaiah vi. they have six wings—one pair being used to cover the face, another to cover the feet, and another to fly with. To this it may be objected that what Isaiah described were seraphim; yet verse 6 shows that one of these, at least, was a messenger or envoy. In Ezekiel i. we find an apparent description of angels, or an envoy, which is so involved that it is most difficult to understand it. In Daniel x. an archangel is described as a brilliant man whose body was like the beryl—tarshish—a stone of a sea-green colour probably; or, possibly, a topaz, "whose eyes were like lightning, and whose arms and feet were like polished brass, and whose loins were girded with fine gold"—as if to conceal his sex—a characteristic which we find, from Matt. xxii. 30, angels do not possess. The writer's description must, therefore, be classed with that of afreets, genii, and the like, in the Arabian Nights tales. In Zechariah, again, we find an angel or envoys described (ch. i.)—(a), "as a man riding upon a red horse," having behind him "red horses, speckled and white" (v. 8); (6), as "four horns" (vv. 18,19); (c), as "four carpenters" (w. 20, 21.) Again, in chap, v., we find an angel in "a flying roll;" another in "an ephah;" another in a big piece of lead, and another in a woman, and still another in two beings of the same nature.

We can readily understand that some who are unacquainted with lunatics, would describe these portraitures as the result of insanity or hallucination; but those who are more conversant with persons of unsound mind will doubt whether any ordinary insane persons ever see or describe things which they have never met with. One or two, certainly, have wonderful flights of imagination, but these have been highly educated men of extensive reading, &c. In mania, when visions are seen, some person or other whose description has been read by the lunatic, or who has really been observed, appears—or something which the individual has seen depicted, or otherwise been told of, presents itself, or there is a strange jumble of reality and possibility—just as in dreams, comical, grotesque, or horrible combinations are common, and cause us no surprise. There is, however, too much consistency in the method in which angels are depicted, to enable us to believe that their form was decided by any lunatic or dreamer.

We scarcely can form an idea whether the Egyptians had a definite belief in angels, as the word is understood by moderns. With them, as it was with the Greeks, it is most probable that all beings which Jews and Christians alike would call angels, were designated "gods" or "demigods." Be this as it may, we find that the Mizraim had deities who wore wings. A round disc, apparently intended to represent the sun, two erected serpents to support it, and a long broad pinion on each side of the body, was symbolic of "the Supreme." The same may be said to be true of Assyria and Persia—only that in the symbolism of the two last, the serpents did not, generally, appear. In plate 30a, of Wilkinson's Ancient Egyptians, 2d series, a human figure is represented as winged, and before him is a five-rayed star. In plate 35 of the same book, Isis is represented as a nude woman, winged; the position of one pinion being such that it serves to conceal the body from the waist almost to the knees. In plate 36, "Athor" is depicted as being attended by a human-headed bird. On the other hand, in plate 39, where the gods are instructing the king in the use of the bow, the former are bird-headed men without wings. Whilst in plate 44, the soul of a dying man is represented as a human-headed bird with wings, arms, and legs. In plates 52, 53 of the same work, we notice specimens of winged serpents. In plate 63, Isis again appears as a wing bearer, and in this figure we find, as we ought to do, that the feathers of the pinions are attached to the arms of the goddess.

In Assyria, we may gather from the sculptures which have been preserved, that there was not any idea of angels being essentially different to gods. Indeed, it is very difficult wherever there is a polytheism in any form, to understand the distinction between a god and an angel Even in the religion which passes current as "the Christian," which acknowledges three gods as "coeternal together and coequal," we are distinctly told that one of the three "proceeds" from the father and the son (Athanasian Creed). The New Testament, again, repeatedly informs us that the son was "sent" into this world by his father to effect a special purpose—e.g.t "God sent his only begotten son into the world, that we might live through him" (1 John iv. 9; see also John iii. 16, 17; Matt. xxi. 37; Mark xii. 4; John v. 38; vi. 29; vii. 28, 29; and compare with John i. 33 and Mal.iii. 1-3). If, therefore, we regard the bearer of a message or an order from the supreme king as an "angel," Jesus of Nazareth was certainly one, inasmuch as he said that he was sent hither by the father of all; and the Holy Ghost was another, for we find John (xv. 26) stating that Jesus would send him to the earth—an assertion repeated in chap, xvi. 7—whilst in the fourteenth chapter of the same book we observe that the father was to send this comforter, who was to abide in this world for ever (v. 16). Indeed, the presumed identification of Jesus with the promised Messiah, "the prince" of Dan. ix. 25, shows the belief that he was one who was as much appointed to do a certain duty as was that "angel of death" which went out to destroy the Assyrian army (2 Kin. xix. 35).

With such indicated reservation, we notice that the angel which the gods sent to watch over various Assyrian kings is depicted almost invariably with wings. Now he is an archer, standing in a disc representing the sun, having wings below him; now he stands in front of the circle, the pinions and sometimes his body terminating in feathers resembling a bird's expanded tail. Then, again, the minor divinities bear wings, some of them no less than four (Bonomi's Nineveh, 2d ed. p. 157). It would be superfluous to linger over a description of the winged bulls with human heads, and the winged men with eagle or hawks' faces, which are so familiar to us in consequence of the researches of Layard and others. All alike bear testimony to the connection, in human celestialism, between birds and men. Nor can we reasonably doubt, that the idea intended to be conveyed by the inventor of the Assyrian composition which we refer to was, that the being, thus symbolized, was famous for strength like the bull; for rapidity of movement, like the eagle; and for wisdom, like a man.

There is to be found amongst the relics of the ancient Persians a symbol of an angel who was supposed specially to guard the king. This somewhat resembles that used at Nineveh. There are, however, many forms of it. For example, we find in Hyde's De Religione veterum Persarum (Table 6) a figure of a Persepolitan king, above whom, in the air, and quite distinct from the sun, stands a venerable man fully draped, standing upon what seems to be a large pine cone reversed, which is surrounded by clouds instead of being furnished with wings. The man thus depicted extends the forefinger of one hand to the sun, whilst with the other he holds a ring. In Table 6 Mithra is represented as winged, after the modern fashion of angels.

Hyde assures us, in chapter twelve, that twelve angels were recognized by the ancient Persians, in addition to those who presided over the months and days. One of these appears to be the same as the Greek Rhadamanthus, who sat as supreme judge in the invisible world, and apportioned to the dead their rewards or punishments. A second was equivalent to Neptune and ruled the sea, but he had also under his charge everything which related to generation, or production generally. The third was much the same as the more modern Lares and Penates, and superintended dwelling-houses and families. The fourth had a somewhat similar and subordinate office. The fifth was named after the stars, and had his kingdom in the south heavens. The sixth the learned author does not describe. The seventh really seems to be a sort of duplicate angel, called Haruts and Maruts, who were two naughty ones that rebelled, and are, according to some, imprisoned still in Babylon, being hung up by the heels. The eighth, Hyde is himself doubtful about, and does not describe. The ninth is the same as the German "storm-king." The tenth may fairly be styled the "angel of the victualling department." The eleventh is the giver of life, the opponent of Azrael, the minister of death; and the twelfth angel is one which we may call either by the name of "conscience" or "judgment" for he it is who approves or reprobates the works of man.

Though I quote from Hyde, I am somewhat doubtful of the value of his authority. He relies to a considerable extent upon the work known as the "Zend Avesta," and supposed to represent the tenets of Zoroaster and his followers. This book is, as I have mentioned, generally believed to be a genuine relic of antiquity by Continental scholars, though it is mistrusted by British orientalists, who regard it as a modern production founded upon Aryanism, Christianity, and Maho-metanism. In my judgment, my compatriots are right; and if it be proper to trust such a man as Sir H. Rawlinson in the matter of the "Avesta," one may be pardoned for believing with him that the book of Job was written by a Persian Jew, or translated by a Hebrew from a work in the time of Darius, or some other of the Achoemenidæ.

In Job angels are only once mentioned—viz., in chap. iv. 18, and then they are spoken of in such a way, that we are doubtful whether or not to regard the verse simply as a poetic metaphor. The idea which runs through the part of the chapter in which the passage occurs is this: "Job, you are suffering; the innocent do not perish; the righteous are not cut off; you have been very proper; man has nothing to say against you; but you are not right in accusing God of injustice; you doubtless have done some wrong, for even God's servants are not wholly trusted; they sometimes misbehave unknowingly, and his own angels are called perverse by him (Job iv. 18); you cannot expect to be better than they, and it is no shame to you to be in the same category as they are."

But it must be allowed that the words of the story—"There was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came also among them; and the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it"—do really intimate a full belief in good angels and bad, who were not so much angels, messengers, or envoys, as subordinate powers resembling the barons of ancient England, the Paladins of Charlemagne, or the kings created by Buonaparte; amongst whom all were, so to speak, "good angels," except Bernadotte, of Sweden, who rebelled against the imperial thraldom, and became to his late master a modern satan. In whichever way we regard the subject of angels, amongst the Persians there is little doubt that the Iranian conception of God was wholly anthropomorphic, and that the Medians and their magi, as well as their Persian neighbours, acknowledged a "father of lies," who was antagonistic to the deity.*

Our knowledge of the angelic mythology of Babylonia is comparatively slight. The main thing which shrouds the subject in darkness is the difficulty which exists to distinguish between god, gods, and angels. If we could put any confidence in the book of Daniel, we should recognize therefrom that his "Nebuchadnezzar" most distinctly believed in the existence of angels, for in chap. iii. 25 he believes that he sees the son of God (bar elohim), and in verse 28 of the same chap. he remarks that "God hath sent his angel (malachah), and delivered his servants that trusted in him." Again, in the fourth chapter, in which he recounts a dream, he declares that he saw "a watcher and a holy one" (geer and kadesk) come down from heaven with a message to him. But Daniel is not an adequate authority upon ancient Babylonian beliefs. We are, in the absence of direct testimony upon this subject» driven to such evidence as is drawn from sculptured or other remains in ruins and on gems, and to cuneiform and other writings. George Rawlinson sums up his account thus—(Ancient Monarchies, vol. I, ch. vii., pp. 138, 9): "Various deities, whom it was not considered at all necessary to trace to a single stock, divided the allegiance of the people, and even of the kings, who regarded with equal respect, and glorified with exalted epithets, some fifteen or sixteen personages. Next to these principal gods were a far more numerous assemblage of inferior or secondary divinities, less often mentioned, and regarded as less worthy of honour, but still recognized generally through the country. Finally, the Pantheon contained a host of mere local gods or genii, every town and almost every village in Babylonia being under the protection of its own particular divinity."

The passage above quoted, which represents very fairly our existent knowledge, suggests to the thoughtful mind a comparison with other religions. In Greece there were many great gods and goddesses, and other divinities of less renown. In Rome there were gods for almost everything. But what these nations called "gods" the Hebrews called "angels," as we shall see shortly. In Christendom angels and gods have, as a general rule, been deposed, and "saints" have taken their places. Not only has every town a cathedral which is dedicated to some particular name—said to have been borne by a holy man or woman, whose aid in heaven is thus secured by his votaries upon earth—but every church in every parish, and every chapel in every church is set apart to a particular "saint." Still farther, every trade and every position in life has its tutelary patron in heaven, and secondary gods are as common in Papal districts as they were in the land of the Chaldeans. The philosopher cannot find a valid distinction between Ishtar, Venus, and Mary, Dionysus and Denis, and a host of other gods, saints, or angels.

Assuming that the minor gods of Greece and Rome, and those essences generally called "angels" are substantially the same order of beings, we find that the Babylonians had a great number of celestial envoys, viceroys, or messengers who ruled over the land and sea, the sky and storms, the thunder and the rain, crops, men, war, buildings—everything, indeed, was superintended by some one on behalf of the Supreme Ruler.

We might pause here to speculate upon the question whether there is any difference in kind between such a kingdom as Babylonia or Russia and the heaven believed in by the ancient Jews and the modern Christians. In all there is an autocratic sovereign who has a prime minister and secretaries of state, who keep his books and perform his will according to his bidding; under these again there are private clerks, who superintend wind and weather, rain and hail, snow and frost; governors of provinces, mayors, or prefects of cities; police, and so large a host of subordinates, that nothing, great or small, can be done which escapes the notice of one of the imperial envoys or ministers. The inventor of heaven, such as we know it, was certainly an admirer of 'centralization'. Those who desire to see the description of the unseen world modified are those who are opposed to an absolute monarchy, and who see in everything, everybody, and in all the world a proof of the presence of a supreme, omniscient, omnipresent, Creator, Ruler, or Governor.

Without going into an account of the Chaldean mythology, we may say that there is strong reason to believe, both from the nomenclature which has survived, and from such gems as are preserved from destruction, that every Babylonian, whether bond or free, was called after some deity, who was supposed ever afterwards to be his tutelary angel In modern times Roman Catholics hold a similar belief, and each parent imagines that by making selection, for his offspring, of the name of a particular saint, the latter can be induced to take the child under its special care.

The learned in papal mythology know that every saint is depicted in such a manner that none shall be mistaken. To such an extent indeed is pictorial contrivance carried, that the art of recognising a particular saint demands a special study. It is all but certain that the same custom prevailed in Babylon; but, as all the professors which taught the means of identification have passed away, we can only guess at the name or nature of the angel. Let us imagine, for example, what an archaeologist could make of the figure of Mary—of the bleeding or burning heart, two thousand years after all history of the mother of Jesus has passed away, like that of Ishtar has done. A curious figure, called heart-shaped, but really not so, is found placed on the central part of a woman's breast; from it flames appear to arise and blood to drop, and through it is a dagger, and this mass of imagery is put outside the body, and the dress is held open to enable any one to see it.

Without a key to the enigma, this is a mystery; but when the key is given, and the inquirer hears the explanation, he finds it so absurd that it is difficult to believe it. In like manner, when I see upon a Babylonian gem, copied as a vignette on the title-page of Landseer's Sabean Researches, a woman who has a beard, a necklace, two small breasts, from each of which she squeezes apparently a river of milk; over whose breastbone there is one large globe and two small ones, placed perpendicularly; who has a spider waist, and wears a skirt covered with pistol-shaped ornaments, I, not knowing whether the Chaldeans adored "our lady of the flowing bosom," cannot frame an idea as to the name of the saint, angel, virgin, or martyr which is depicted, or what may have been her peculiar duties, who she was, and what trade she patronised.

Whatever idea the Papal Church entertains respecting her canonised saints, one thing is remarkable, viz., that they are not portrayed as having wings. Each has an aureole of some sort round his or her head—a painter's contrivance for saying "This individual, who seems like a man or woman, is not a common but a divine creature." Francis of Assisi is, in addition, depicted with stigmata, or marks on his hands, feet, and side, which, though they resemble those made with nails in the case of Jesus of Nazareth, were doubtless, in the case of the "saint," made with the strong caustic called "spirit of salt" or other escharotic. We might speculate upon the state of mind which sees in the assumption of "stigmata" a greater evidence of faith than would be offered by the conversion of the arms into the pinions of Michael the archangel; but, as it is so much easier for even the most potent saint to make breaches in his skin, than to persuade feathers to grow on his arms, we do not think the task worthy of our care.

The Babylonians in this respect were predecessors of papal pagans. It is a rare thing to find on any of their gems a winged angel or genius. One such is depicted on the frontispiece of Landseer's Sabean Researches, which is birdlike both as regards the head and pinions; and four other winged creatures are given in Lajard's Culte de Venus. In two the figures are human headed, and combined with the body of a quadruped. At a later period of Babylonian mythology "grotesques" were introduced, apparently from Egypt.

It is not to be lightly passed by, that the symbol which represented the presence of the deity—which, if we may adopt a phrase, we should call "the angel of his presence" (see Exod. xxxiii. 14,15; Isa, lxiii. 9), is almost identical in the Chaldean and the papal religions, viz., a circle containing a cross, an emblem as common in our churchyards as in the capital of Nebuchadnezzar.

The resemblance between papal and Chaldean emblems and doctrines have repeatedly attracted the attention of theologians; and I am not far wrong in asserting that Protestants generally have identified "the woman" of Revelation xvii., spoken of as "Mystery, Babylon the Great, the mother of harlots and abominations of the earth," with Rome under the popes. For myself I do not care to express any opinion on the point, beyond a general dissent from the popular estimation of the dictum and its interpretation. At the same time I must declare that every year, over which my inquiries have extended, has imbued me more and more with wonder at the similarity between the ancient Babylonian and the modern papal religion. The two resemble children of the same parents, only that one is older than the other; and it requires but little penetration in an observer to trace in both, the lineaments of a grovelling superstition, united with a base priestly cunning.

In our own estimation the strongest evidence in favour of a belief in angels, of every degree, amongst the Chaldeans and Babylonians is the enormous development of angelic mythology amongst the Jews, who lived in the city of Nebuchadnezzar, and in those who migrated thence into Palestine subsequent to the period of the captivity. From indications, which are necessarily imperfect, we have formed the opinion that the Babylonians were astronomical students of great proficiency, from a very remote antiquity; that many of these professors turned their attention to what is called judicial astrology—i.e., they attempted to judge of future events by certain phenomena occurring in the heavens, and especially in the relationship between different planets and the various constellations.

As the planets wander through the sky, naturally they were regarded as the messengers of El—"the Supreme," who sent them to investigate the condition of groups of stars, many of which formed a sort of community that was unvisited by the Great King, for months together, and, in many instances, not at all.As the heliacal rising of one star seemed generally to be followed by good weather, and the corresponding rise of another intimated the reverse, it was natural that one should be regarded as an angel of happiness, the other as a harbinger of misery or death. So strongly rooted is this belief amongst some, that it even "holds its own" in educated England. The astronomer Royal is often asked to cast a nativity; and a living merchant of Liverpool does so yet, having confidence that his deductions suffice to prove their value.

The formula is "Astra regunt homines, sed regit astra Deus"—"The stars rule men, but God rules the stars." A guardian star, then, that is to say, the particular planet or other conspicuous celestial body which was "in the ascendant" at the period of the birth of each individual, was regarded in the same light as Christians esteem protective angels and Romanists estimate patron saints. There can be, we think, little doubt that the seven archangels are the seven planets known to the ancients, each of which had a day dedicated to it, and who thus originated the week of seven days. These amongst the Phoenicians were called the Cabeiri, or the powerful ones. In the conclusion at which we have arrived we are greatly strengthened by the discovery in Babylonian ruins of certain bowls; facsimiles and descriptions of which are given in Layard's Nineveh and Babylon, pp. 510-526. The inscriptions which have been translated appear to be forms of exorcism, or amulets, by which evil spirits are to be driven away; and reference is made in these writings to the devil, for example, under the name shida; and to Satan under the cognomen Satanah, evidently the same as the Satanas habitually used in the New Testament; also to Nirich, probably from a root like the Hebrew narag, "a noise maker or screamer." This creature, as I think, is the same as the "Satyr" of Isaiah xiii. 21, and xxxiv. 14, and represents or personifies those unseen but howling maniacs who wandered about at night (see Lilith and Satyr in my second volume). Another demon is called Zachiah, a cognomen which I cannot satisfactorily explain unless it is allied to Zachar, and indicates the power which, as the French would say, "can tie a knot in the needle" (nouer l'aiguilette) or "a levin brand." Another of the devils is called "Abitur of the Mountain," whose name resembling, as it does, the Jewish Abiathar, is more likely to belong to the good than the bad angels. Lilith is another demon still feared by the Jews, who employ charms against her to this day. She is supposed to be a sort of spiritual vampyre, and to suck the life out of infants and young people. These names of angels occur in the first inscription given by Layard; in the second we find Satan, associated with idolatry, curses, vows, whisperings, witchcraft, and Zevatta—a concealer, rider, or enchanter from root like this and answering to the fairy which steals away.

Another is named Nidra, which I take to signify vows made by supposed sorcerers. This demon is associated in the same line with Zevatta above described. Patiki is another bad influence, probably now, "a sword," for the charm has reference to freedom from captivity. Another devil is called Isarta, which I take to be a leader of banditti or marauders, from the Assyrian word (Furst's lexicon s.v. asar), "a leader, head or commander," and a word from a root like ta, "to drive," "to push forward," "to sweep away." We should call such an one "the demon of destruction."

In this same inscription two good angels are named, Batiel or Bethiail, probably a variant of Bethuel, "the residence of El," and Katuel or Kathuail, the executioner or sword of El, from katal, to kill; compare this with the expression, "Or if I bring a sword upon that land, and say, sword, go through that land, so that I put off man and beast from it" (Ezek. xiv. 17). In addition to these two angels another is mentioned who has eleven names, not one of which is written in full—e.g. SS. BB. CCC.

In a third inscription a devil is named "Abdi," which may be derived from the root abad, and be regarded as the same as the New Testament Abaddon (Rev. ix. 10)—the king of the slaughterers, bucaneers, rovers, &c. We can fancy that Negroes who are captured and sold in droves to foreigners, might imagine that Abdi was the devil which ruled the African slave drivers and Christian purchasers. This demon is associated with Levatta,—with tribulations, the machinations of the Assyrians, misery, treachery, rebellion; Nidra, with sorrows generally; and Shoq, which I take to be from a root like shuq, or shaqaq—i.e., "enemies thirsting for booty, rangers, bands of robbers." Compare—"And the spoilers came out of the camp of the Philistines in three companies" (1 Sam. xiii. 17). See also—He "delivered them into the hand of the spoilers" (Jud. ii. 14; 2 Kin. xvii. 20). Amongst the devils must, I think, also be classed Asdarta, which is clearly the same as the goddess Astarte, and she is closely associated with "the machinations of the Assyrians."

The good angels of this inscription are Barakiel, Ramiel, Raamiel, Nahabiel, and Sharmiel, over whose names we will not now linger, except to notice that the devils have names compounded with jah, whilst the good ones are derived from EL.

In the fifth inscription, amongst the bad things are mentioned evil spirits, both male and female, the evil eye, sorcery, and enchantments both from men and women, along with Nidra and Levatta. The good angels are called Babnaa, Ninikia, and Umanel, which I take to be intended for Wu, banahel=El builds, or "the strong one who establishes us;" nachaghel. El is powerful, or the Angel of Strength; and amanel, or "the fostering angel."

In some fragments the names of good angels found have been Nadkiel, Ramiel, Damael, Hachael, and Sharmiel, which we shall probably notice again subsequently.

We do not lay any particular stress upon the fact of the bowls, on which these inscriptions were found, having been dug up amongst Babylonian ruins; nor do we care to prove either that they were of Jewish or Chaldean origin. What we here desire to show is, that there existed in Babylon a full belief in the existence of evil and good influences which were invisible; that some individuals had, or were thought to possess, supernatural powers for harm, which could be counteracted by those who placed themselves under the protection of potencies supposed to be holier, wiser, or stronger than the evil genii From the method in which everything connected with witchcraft, magic, astrology, and the like, is spoken of in the Old Testament, and from the fact that slaves are much more likely to imitate their masters than conquerors to become pupils of the vanquished, we conclude that it was not the Hebrews who taught the Chaldees, but that the contrary was the case.

In the view thus enunciated we are confirmed by the manner in which old Jewish writers spoke of the nation that enslaved them—e.g., "Babylon, the beauty of the Chaldees' excellency" (Isa. xiii. 19); "All of them princes to look at after the manner of the Babylonians of Chaldea."... And "she (Jerusalem) doted upon them, and sent messengers unto them into Chaldea; and... she was polluted with them, and her mind was alienated from (or by) them" (Ezek. xxiii. 15-17); "It is a mighty nation, it is an ancient nation, a nation whose language thou knowest not" (Jerem. v. 15)—Jeremiah knew more about the people than Isaiah (see Isa. xxiii. 13). Habakkuk, again, speaking of the same people, says (chap, i. 6-10)—"The Chaldeans, that bitter and hasty nation... terrible and dreadful:... they shall scoff at the kings, and the princes shall be a scorn unto them." Such being the estimation of the Babylonians by Hebrew prophets, it is morally certain that the Jews would regard them with respect, admire, study, and copy them. To what extent the imitation went it is difficult to say.

When, therefore, we find that the descendants of Abraham, a patriarch whom a veneration for the ancient Babylonians induced the Israelite mythologists to represent as being a Chaldee; and those who were taught on the banks of the Euphrates, were spoken of in Rome about the time of our era, and shortly afterwards, as being almost synonymous epithets for sorcerers, astrologers, charmers, &c., we must conclude that the Mesopotamian was the master, the Palestinian the pupil. That the two were regarded as relatives we infer from Juvenal (sat. vi. 544-552)—"For a small piece of money the Jews sell whatever dreams you may choose, but an Armenian or Commagenian soothsayer promises a tender love;... but her (i.e., the lady who consults such folk) confidence in Chaldeans will be the greater."

But, ere we leave this portion of our Essay, we must notice one other piece of evidence of considerable value which is drawn from the New Testament. We find, for example, in Acts xxiii. 8, "The Sadducees say that there is no resurrection, neither angel nor spirit, but the Pharisees confess both." If we inquire into the origin of these sects—and we shall be greatly assisted in doing so by two very elaborate articles by the erudite Dr. Ginsburg, in Kitto's Cyclopaedia of Biblical Knowledge—we shall see reason to believe that the Sadducees were a sect who considered that they were not bound to believe any tenet as necessary unless they could find it distinctly enunciated in the Pentateuch. They resolutely declined, therefore, to accept as revelation such stories as had been adopted by the Hebrews from Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, and possibly from the Romans.

We might institute a comparison between the Sadducees and those whom we know as "reformers." The first acknowledged the authority of Moses alone, such as they found it in "the five books;" the second acknowledged the authority of Jesus and his apostles, such as they found it in the New Testament: the first rejected the commentaries of Rabbis; the second those of "the fathers." Both appealed to antiquity, and both traced to what we may designate paganism, heathenism, or foreign sources generally, a large portion of the current faith which they saw around them. The Sadducees regarded the doctrine of seraphic interference, and all the angelic mythology common in their time, as the fond fancy of those who desired to harmonize Judaism with Gentilism. The Reformers, in their turn, rejected all the fables of Papal anchorites, &c.; denied the power of any martyr to influence the condition of the living after their death; and generally opposed the saintly, as the Sadducees opposed the angelic, hierarchy. Individuals who sympathize with Luther, Calvin, and those of a similar way of thinking, may readily understand the Sadducees, whereas, those of what is called the "High Church," will give their interest to the Pharisees, who upheld the then mediaeval customs, &c.

It is probable that some will say, that Jesus of Nazareth, being the son of God, a deity incarnate, and consequently familiar with everything which goes on in the court of heaven; having adopted the angelic mythology; having conversed familiarly with the devil; having sent, at least, two thousand devils out of one man into a herd of swine; having gone down to hell, wherever that may be; and having preached to the spirits imprisoned there, whoever they may be or have been; having, still further, had an angel to comfort him; having had a conference with Moses and Elijah on a certain hill; having asserted that he had only to pray to his father to obtain the assistance of twelve legions of angels; and having also told us that every child has an angel who stands before the face of God—seeing these things, I say, one can imagine persons asseverating that all our current notions of angels, which are built upon the New Testament, must be true.

To this we rejoin, that these assertions beg the question. The philosopher affirms that the idea of angels is incompatible with that of an omnipresent God—that the belief of Jesus in an angelic mythology proves him to have had an anthropomorphic notion of "the Supreme," and, as a consequence, it follows that Jesus was nothing more than a Jew, although very superior to the generality of his countrymen, having possibly been taught by some Buddhist.* The bigot, on the other hand, can only scream out the formularies which the so-called orthodox provide for him. Johanna Southcote once made some folks believe that she was pregnant with a Messiah, and she had most enthusiastic followers; but neither argument nor rhetoric sufficed to beget the promised baby and, in like manner, no amount of declamation can convert an assumption into a fact. But of this truth most of our theologians appear to be ignorant, and, like the heathen with their litanies, they think that they will obtain their will by "much speaking."

When summoned, a long time ago, to give evidence in a court of justice, the question was put to me—"Now, doctor, you have heard the symptoms from which the deceased suffered; do you believe that they were produced by arsenic?" Being doubtful about the propriety of the query in a court of law so prudish as ours is, I remained silent, and in an instant the judge, Baron Alderson, said—"I won't allow that question to be put or answered; you want the witness to take the place of the jury, and it shall not be done. You may ask the doctor, if you will, what are the symptoms produced by arsenic, when taken in a poisonous dose, and then it is the business of the jury to compare those, with such as have already been sworn to as occurring in the man before he died." This anecdote is frequently in my mind when I am composing an essay like the present. If I wish to convince the jury who reads my papers of the truth of a particular conclusion to which I have arrived, it is not enough for me to express my own opinions. I may assert, in the matter in question, that I am a skilled witness, and have closely investigated the subject, but it is open to any one to doubt my industry and to distrust my judgment; consequently, it is necessary for me to adduce evidence, as well as to draw deductions therefrom.

The hypothesis which I have formed, after a pretty extensive reading, is, that the belief in the mythology of angels which is current amongst Christians at the present time, and which is based upon a series of pretended revelations, said to have been made exclusively to Jews of ancient times, is, in reality, founded upon fancies of pagan priests or poets; and, as a corollary, I infer, either that our celestial mythology must be given up to oblivion, as being heathenish, or that we must abandon those claims to an exclusive inspiration which have been made for, and accorded by many to, the Bible. I have already described the ideas associated with angels in some ancient peoples, and I now propose to examine those of other nations with whom the Jews and Christians, directly or indirectly, came in contact.

The reader of ancient Roman history cannot doubt that the city on the Tiber was indebted to the Etruscans for all, or nearly all, of its early knowledge. It is probable that the original gods and goddesses of Rome were those of their northern neighbours, and everything which the Romans knew of augury was due to the priests of Etruria; consequently it is not unprofitable to inquire, as far as we can, whether these had any idea of beings such as we call angels. As we have not many available written remains of the remarkable people to whom we refer, we are obliged to be satisfied with pictorial and other relics which have survived until our days. Some of the scenes depicted on urns, vases, and walls, in tombs and elsewhere, are sufficiently explanatory of the subjects which the artist has desired to pourtray; others, on the contrary, can be interpreted in a variety of ways. Paying no attention to the latter, we may safely affirm, that the Etruscans had ideas upon the subject of angels very similar to our own. The form which their artists gave to them is precisely that which is current at the present day, except that, unlike the Christian, the Etruscan angels were of different sexes. Sometimes both males and females were draped from the neck to the feet, in other drawings they were partially or wholly nude. In the vast majority of cases each one possessed two wings that were attached to the back, behind the arms, precisely as they are in modern pictures; but in one very remarkable instance (plate 7, Description de quelques Vases Etrusques, par H. D. de Luynes—folio, Paris, 1840) the beings to whom we refer had each three pairs of pinions, the one attached to the shoulder blades, a second to the loins, and a third to the calves of the legs. These creatures correspond to our demons or imps of Satan, or the devils of the New Testament which were sent into a herd of swine.

Some of the winged Etruscan demons must be regarded as "angels of death," for they are represented as hovering in the air over individuals, such as Cassandra and Polynices, who are about to be sacrificed. One angel, who, as usual, Diaitized bv is spoken of by the Christian describer thereof as a goddess, is designated "Cunina." Her business was to look after and take charge of infants in their cradle. A being such as this, by whatever name we may designate her, cannot fail to remind us of the expression in the New Testament—"Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my father which is in heaven" (Matt, xviii. 10). In another Etruscan painting we find two angelic beings, fully draped, carrying a nude corpse apparently to the future or invisible state. These naturally remind us of the passage in Rev. xx. 1—"I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand." In some Etruscan paintings we have scenes which are supposed to indicate the preparation of a bride for the wedding ceremony. In these there are diminutive angels introduced, which are sometimes hovering in the air and sometimes seated on the edge of the bath; these are by the learned supposed to represent Cupid, Eros, Hymen, or Love, and they indicate the devout feeling, that an angel watches over those who contract marriage in an orthodox manner.*

That the absence of such a spirit was looked upon as unlucky we gather from an expression in Propertius (b. v. el. 3) in which a wife, whose husband has been obliged to leave her, and go to a distant war, when bewailing her destiny, amongst other references says—"I wedded without a god to accompany me." This calls to memory the statement in Hebrews i. 14, wherein, after speaking of angels, the writer asks—"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?"—a sentence which implies the idea that those who are not heirs of salvation have not angels which minister for them. The doctrine was certainly not exclusively Christian. Of this any one may assure himself by referring to Eccles. v. 6—"Neither say thou before the angel that it was an error; wherefore... should God destroy the works of thine hands?"

Again, we find an angel seated between two young folk of opposite sexes, and archaeologists tell us that the winged creature thus figured is a nuptial god—one whose business is to induce appropriate couples to meet, to love, and to marry. Such a celestial match-maker was the Jewish Raphael, who, though "one of the seven holy angels, which present the prayers of the saints, and which go in and out before the glory of the Holy One" (Tobit xii. 15)—yet condescended to conduct Tobias a long way to meet Sara, and instructed him how he could marry her with safety, and defeat a devil.

Amongst other individuals, in the Etruscan mythological paintings who are winged, are the following, which are named thus by the authors who describe the vases, &c., whether rightly or wrongly it is not necessary for me to prove:—Janus; Furina, the goddess of thieves; Mercury, the messenger of Jupiter and the patron of robbers; Vacuna, or Desideria, or Venus, the goddess of indolence, desire, or love; Hymen, the angel or god of marriage; Cupid, the god of love; Victory, Bacchus, Silenus, Dryads, Calliope, Tempest, Fame, Proserpine; Iibitina, the goddess of funerals; Venus, infera, Nemesis, or fate; Death, life, Charybdis, The Furies, Geryon, Justice, Peace, Iris, and Diana. On such a subject the reader may consult with advantage Augustine (de Civitate Dei, b. vl. c. 9); Arnobius (Adversus Gentes, b. iv. c. 7); and Tertullian (Ad Nationes, b. ii. c. 11).

We may now refer to a remarkable series of drawings, representing the funeral of Patroclus, described by Homer, which were discovered in the Etruscan sepulchre of the Tarquinii near what once was Vulci and is now "Ponte della Badia," in the year 1857, and which is described in Noël des Vergers L'Etrurie et les Etrusques, and in Corpus Inscriptionum Italicarum (Turin 1867), the latter of which I use as my authority. In one of the scenes we find depicted the sacrifice of the Trojan youths at the grave of Patroclus. The artist has not left to the fancy of the observer the identification of his figures, but has written in Etruscan letters the modified names of the actors. Beginning from the right hand, we find Ajax Oileus, and next to him a naked Trojan youth, whose hands are bound behind his back, and who is guarded by Telamonian Ajax. Behind and besides him is Charon, and in front of the latter is another Trojan youth, nude, seated on the ground, and receiving his death-wound from Achilles. Behind the latter stands a winged, draped, tall female figure, whom at one time I took to be the glorified soul of Patroclus; but, having seen a similar figure on other Etruscan designs depicting human sacrifice or death, and finding over the head of this one the word fanth, vanth, or fano—according to the value which we assign to the digamma or F and O—which is, I think, equivalent to the Latin Fatum, fate, &c., we must regard the figure as resembling Azrael—"the angel of death." Besides and behind her stands a draped man unarmed, having a fixed countenance of settled melancholy, and regarding without a shade of exultation the death of the young Trojan whom Achilles slaughters. Over his head are the words hinthial patrucles, which is believed to signify "the shade of Patroclus." The last figure in the group is Agamemnon.

This and the other sculptures in the tomb are extremely interesting to the archaeologists, firstly, because they bear evidence of a very superior style of art; secondly, because they testify to the antiquity of Homer's Iliad, and its popularity in other nations than the Greek. They show, moreover, that the wealthy men amongst the Etrurians were not ignorant of the Grecian language, or rather literature, although they had difficulty in adapting the Hellenic words to their own alphabet; lastly, they ought to be especially valuable to us inasmuch as they demonstrate the existence of a belief in ancient Italy of the resurrection of the body, and of the existence of angels precisely the same in shape as those which pious Christians delight to see in their churches, and in their manuals of devotion. It is worthy of notice that upon some Etruscan vases in the museum at Munich there are angelic warriors covered with armour—a winged female carrying a caduceus, and winged horses—like Pegasus, and probably like those seen by Zechariah, the Hebrew vaticinator.

We consider it best to omit making any remarks respecting the ideas entertained about angels by the Phoenicians, for we have scarcely any information about their mythology beyond the names of certain gods and goddesses. It will be more profitable to pass on to the Greeks, and inquire into the general system of their theological belief. This is, we think, a matter of some importance, for this people, as victors and masters, came into contact with the Jews in the time of Joel, about b.c. 800; and if any captive Hebrews came back from Grecia (see Joel iii. 6), we believe that they would naturally bring back with them much of the Hellenic lore of their conquerors. The reader must not be carried away here with the once popular notion that everything which was found in heathendom, which resembled something biblical or Jewish, came of necessity from scriptural or Israelitish sources. The reverse is much more likely, for the Hebrews in old times are described by their historians and preachers as hankering after novelty—"going whoring after other gods," as the Bible has it. They, on the other hand, were encouraged to keep themselves aloof from others, and were never a missionary nation; nor, had they been so, were they sufficiently honourable or wealthy, as a race, ever to command respect. They were, indeed, generally despised by the people round about them, who would no more think of adopting Jewish fables than we should care to learn theology and cosmogony from African negroes.

If we endeavour to reduce Grecian mythology to its simplest expression, we find that it consisted of a belief in a creator—grand beyond conception, and one whom the mind could not conceive, nor pencil nor the chisel depict. Under him there was thought to be a host of minor deities, who agreed, more or less, amongst themselves, each having a particular department of creation to preside over, or a definite function to perform. Jupiter, for example, had the air and the heavens generally under his management; Neptune superintended the sea; Rhea, or Gaia, or Gee, was the goddess of the surface of the earth; and Pluto had the management of the interior of the globe and of those who were buried therein. If corpses were unburied, they did not come under his immediate cognizance. Then, as it was quite possible that one deity might be counteracting another, as, indeed, they are represented to have done during the Trojan war, another god was necessary to be a medium of communication between the others, and Mercury became the messenger, or go-between.

Below the major gods was an infinity of smaller ones, who presided over physical and moral matters. There were, for example, wood and tree nymphs; Dryads and hamadryads—gods of rivers, such as Simois and Scamander. Pan presided over husbandmen; Hermes, over thieves, &c. Others, like Eros, fulfilled the duty of bringing the sexes together. Hymen secured them in marriage, and Venus had the duty of insuring connubial happiness, whilst Lucina's business was to bring the offspring of the marriage into the world—with as little pain or danger as possible. Then, again, Fortune brought good luck. The "furies" brought evil, and the "fates" ruled the destiny of mortals.

Against some of these gods others rebelled. For example, there were the Titans, the sons of Heaven and Earth (Cælus et Terra), who were all of gigantic stature, and may be said to be identical with the giants spoken of in Gen. vi. 2-4, as being the offspring of the sons of God and the daughters of men. These Titans were much disliked by their father, and confined in the bowels of the earth, or, as we should say, in Hell; but their mother relieved them, and they in turn revenged themselves upon their progenitor. When Jupiter succeeded to Cronos or Saturn, the giants, the sons of Tartarus and Terra, or Hell and Earth, united with their half-brothers, the Titans, and attacked Olympus, and its gods, in dismay, assumed disguises and fled into Egypt—a rare spot, whence also came as history tells us, the founder of Christianity and the doctrine of the Trinity. To regain his position, Jupiter found a man—a son of his own—whom he had begotten by lying three nights in the heart of the earth, or, as the fable has it, in the arms of Alcmena—Hercules by name, to attack the allied monsters, and thus with the aid of a mortal the gods became victorious. Just as in more modern days the divine mission and position of Jesus of Nazareth and Mahomet of Mecca, have been determined by the arms of human warriors. The power of men in heaven is wonderful, considering how great is their weakness upon earth! It is probable, that to the Greeks, Milton owed his ideas of Paradise Lost.

According to the ordinary ideas of angels, the gods, demigods, goddesses, genii, and the like, were essentially the same amongst the Hebrews as the archangels and inferior hierarchy are in modern christian mythology. We shall the more readily see this if we inquire into the ideas of the Greeks respecting demons. "The latter were regarded as spirits which presided over the actions of mankind, and watched over their secret intentions." Many Greek theologians thought that each man had two, the one good, the other bad. These sprites could change themselves into any form, and at death the individual was delivered up to judgment by these companions, who testified to his actions during life. Socrates often spoke of his own peculiar "spirit." Not only were these creatures supposed to influence men, but they were also believed to guard places, and a genius loci was the same as the God of Ekron, or any other locality.

It is almost impossible for a thoughtful man not to compare with the Greek ideas those held by moderns. We hear in familiar discourse, and read in popular books, about a good angel and a bad one. God is said to use both (see Ps. lxxviii. 49, and 1 Kings xxii. 21, 22.) Many, too, of the readers of Sterne will remember the remarks which he makes about a recording angel who was obliged to register an oath, but who contrived to blot out the entry with a tear (com. Mal. iii. 16.) As we have already adverted to the belief of Jesus that every child had an angel, who is always in the presence of. God, we need not remark again upon the matter.

But though the Grecian gods and demigods were the counterparts of the archangels and lesser powers of the Jews and Christians, they were not pictorially depicted, as they were in other places, like winged men or other creatures.

Arnobius, for example, in Advenus génies, when writing about the divinities of the heathen, remarks, that they are so like ordinary men and women, that the artist has to resort to some contrivance to show that any offspring of his brush, or of his chisel, is a god or goddess. A painter, he observes, will select the finest young women he can discover—or the handsomest prostitute in his country, and from one maiden, or from the collective charms of many, will paint a lovely woman and style her Venus; yet she is only a courtezan after all. His remark is a certainly true one. Jupiter is never represented otherwise than as a man, nor does Minerva ever figure except as a woman. None of the greater gods of Hellas are winged like the tutelar gods of the Assyrians and Persians were. Even Hermes, though he does bear pinions, does not carry them in the usual form. Instead of having powerful wings behind his arms, like the Gabriel or Michael of Christian mythology, he has little nippers attached to each side of a cap, of a pair of socks, and of a curiously-shaped wand—all of which he can put off when he pleases, or don when he is sent with a message. Jupiter's thunders bear similar wings. But such minor deities, or devils, as Eros or love; Hymen or marriage; Fame, or victory; Aurora, or day-break; the winds, the Genii, the Gorgons, the Furies, the Harpies, Iris, Isis, Hebe, Psyche, and even Pegasus—a wondrous horse, are winged with pinions which resemble those of the eagle.

If we now pause for a moment to compare one thing with another, we readily see that Hymen may fairly be described as the angel of the covenant of marriage, and that Mercury is identical with Raphael. The "genius loci," the "dryad" or "hamadryad," is the counterpart of the cherubim guarding the ark and the mercyseat of the Jewish temple. Apollo is the angel in the sun (Rev. xix. 17.) Neptune is "the angel of the waters" (Rev. xvi. 5.) Nay, we may—indeed we must go further, and affirm that either the angel Gabriel, or "the power of the Highest," which, we are told in Luke i. 26, 35, overshadowed Mary, the espoused wife of Joseph, is a perfect counterpart of the Hellenic Jupiter who overshadowed Alcmena.

Both produced a being equally celebrated—for we may fairly assert that Hercules was believed in by as many individuals as have faith in Jesus. For ourselves, we do not credit the myth of the Hellenists; of the very existence of a Hercules we are profoundly incredulous. Yet we do not doubt for a moment that Jesus of Nazareth lived as a man upon this earth, and founded, with the subsequent assistance of Paul, the religion which is called Christian. But of the supernatural conception of Mary and of her impregnation by a deity we are intensely sceptical.

Of the theology of the Romans in the times prior to, and somewhat subsequent to, our era, we need say little. It resembled both the Etruscan and the Greek at the first, and subsequently it was modified by the Egyptian and by the Persian. But it was in Rome, whilst pagan, that the present pictorial type of angels was perfected (see Plates ix. to xiii, Lajard's Culte de Venus), in which allegorical figures, from old Roman bas-reliefs, precisely like modern angels, are represented killing the Mithraic bull. I may also add, in passing, that the crozier borne by Romanist bishops is a reproduction of the Etruscan lituus, the augurs' or diviners' staff of office.

The Roman nation, like the Papist and Peruvian religions, was omnivorous, and not only venerated the old gods of the soil, but adopted new divinities eagerly. Whoever chose to import a new deity, and a novel style of worship was hailed, patronized and enriched, much in the same way as at London during recent times, Mesmerists, "spirit rappers," "cord-conjurors," clairvoyants, male and female, spiritualists like Home, very High Churchmen, and many other classes of a similar stamp have been encouraged. As in Athens, we are told that "the Athenians and strangers which were there spent their time in nothing else but either to tell or to hear some new thing" (Acts xvii), no matter whether the novelty was religious or otherwise, so it has been elsewhere. London really, and Rome metaphorically are constantly adopting new ideas, some highly commendable and philosophical, others quite the reverse. Amongst the latter, we may mention that which professes that a certain man can, like Jesus is said to have done, heal by a touch. This assertion, however, is only sparsely credited on the Thames. Far more general is the belief which professes, that an Ecumenical Council can by a vote make one man and his official successors "infallible."

We cannot pass by this subject without remarking that instability in religion is evidence of infidelity; and the adoption of new tenets is a proof of the low estimation in which old ones have been held. Even the new, or Christian dispensation, as it is called, is founded upon the insufficiency of the old or Jewish covenant, which, by those who adopt the one, is a confession that they believe the other was imperfect and therefore not of God. Consequently, when we find a "church," like the Roman, habitually patching its old clothes, we conclude that its leaders are dissatisfied with them and desire better. A lover who finds his mistress perfect neither seeks nor wishes to change her for another; nor endeavours to induce her to modify her attire until he is dissatisfied therewith. When he insists upon an alteration it is because his ardent love has faded. The philosopher may see clearly why certain prelates desire to have some infallible man to appeal to—for it is easier to find out the opinion of one individual than to harmonize the contradictory hypotheses of fifty dogmatical or authoritative writers. Yet the same man will not fail to see that such a proceeding, whilst it strengthens the hold of the church upon the weak-minded, cuts it adrift from the strong. The policy is not altogether bad, for it seeks to bind closer those who, whilst wearing the chains of captivity, regard them as ornaments. But all those who adopt such tactics ought, boldly and unequivocally, to withdraw from the rank of truth-seekers, and of envoys of that God who is not "the author of confusion but of peace."

We may now proceed to the consideration of the angelic mythology of the Old and New Testaments. In our inquiry we shall endeavour to arrive at the ideas contained in the words which are used, and not content ourselves with simple quotation. There is strong reason to believe that Christians in general rarely examine into the real signification of words which they are taught to use, or which, from some fancy or other, they commit to memory. They imagine—if they think on the subject at all—that to repeat a text or a creed is to perform an act of faith, which, in itself, is praiseworthy and a good work. Such do not, in any appreciable degree, differ from the Thibetans, described by the Abbé Hue, who perform their devotions by turning round upon their axles certain cylinders, upon which some prayers are engraved. Not only these Asiatics, but Europeans of large mental calibre are often contented with vague ideas; and when they are challenged to support "the faith which is in them," show that they have never yet examined it. If, for example, they are asked how they can believe in the truth of such passages, "I have seen God (Kohim) face to face" (Gen. xxxii. 30); "The Lord (Jehovah) spake unto Moses face to face as a man speaketh unto his friend" (Exod. xxxiii. 11); "Moses whom the Lord knew face to face" (Deut. xxxiv. 10), and the opposite one, "Thou canst not see my face, for there shall no man see me and live" (Exod. xxxiii. 20)—the sole reply rendered is that the first passages are figurative, passing by entirely the comparison in the second, which asserts that God talked with Moses as one friend with another.

As a farther illustration of my meaning, I may point to the glibness with which Christians talk, sing, and listen to discourses about blood. If people really gave heed to what they chant, and to the words of their ministers, they would really be puzzled to find a distinction between the god whom they worship and that idol deity of Mexico, which called constantly for the hearts and the blood of his worshippers. "Without shedding of blood is no remission" (Heb. ix. 22) is a dogma that puts the Europeans' God on the same level as the deities worshipped in pagan Africa, New Zealand, and by the Anthropophagi generally.

In like manner, if ordinary people are asked to reconcile such passages as the following—"Who maketh his angels spirits;" "A spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye see me have" (Luke xxiv. 39)—with a host of others, in which angels are said to have appeared, talked, and acted like men, they allege that "much of the phraseology of the Bible is metaphorical." But if it be granted that the language is metaphorical, must we not equally believe that the facts referred to are mythical; and if so, how much of the so-called inspired book can we trust? If metaphor and figure-imagery are cities of refuge for theologians, those who fly to them must remember, that there they must remain and live therein all their days; they cannot be citizens of the world, and yet never leave their asylum: if, for them, facts are fictions, by parity of reason fictions are facts.

If, when an individual, said to be a prophet, and, as such, the mouthpiece of the Holy Ghost or of Jehovah, tells us that he saw and talked with an angel, who imparted to him such and such information, we are bound either to believe the whole statement or to reject it as valueless, quoad revelation. If the man did see an angel, and that angel spoke, it must have been material; and if material, it could not be a spirit, and if not a spirit, it was not an angel.* If to this it be answered that individuals do see what they deem to be spirits—just as many a drunken man avers that he sees "blue devils," we grant it at once. We go still farther, and state that we know individuals in full possession, apparently, of all their senses, who see, occasionally, men, women, horses, dogs, and other things, which have no more existence than the figures which appear to us in dreams. Such men not only see imaginary beings, but they hear conversations or speeches which have no reality in them. But we cannot for a moment allow that such delusions of the senses are sterling, and such utterances, messages from the Almighty delivered by angels. To be logical, therefore, the theologian must either accept the stories told in the Bible about angelic beings as literally true, to the exclusion of all metaphor, or believe that every thing tainted by such celestial mythology is entirely of human invention.

As an illustration, let us consider two episodes in the history of Elisha. We find in 2 Kings ii. 11, that a chariot of fire and horses of fire, appeared to this prophet, and parted him from Elijah, with whom he was walking, and carried the latter away into heaven; and we see in 2 Kings vi. 17, that Elisha's servant could really see a multitude of chariots and horses of fire round about his master. We must also remember that "the chariots of the Lord are thousands of angels" (Ps. lxviii. 17; see also Ps. xxxiv. 7.) Now these were, or were not, realities—if the chariots and horsemen existed, then we infer that some sort of stables and ostlers exist in heaven; if none such exist, then the chariots and horses could neither have been seen, nor have separated the two prophets.

It may be urged that supernatural beings do exist for those who can see them, and for no other; just as the angel was seen by Balaam's ass thrice (see Numbers xxii. 22-33) before he was recognized by her master. But this observation is worthless, for it amounts to nothing more than this—viz., that the persons seen in dreams exist for the dreamers and for no one else; but it in no way proves the reality of the asserted apparition.