FOOTNOTES:

“The pleasant’st angling is to see the fishCut with her golden oars the silver stream,And greedily devour the treacherous bait,”

and that it would be difficult to illustrate a work on angling with quotations from his writings, the Rev. H. N. Ellacombe, in his interesting papers[925]on “Shakespeare as an Angler,” has not only shown the strong probability that he was a lover of this sport, but further adds, that “he may be claimed as the first English poet that wrote of angling with any freedom; and there can be little doubt that he would not have done so if the subject had not been very familiar to him—so familiar, that he could scarcely write without dropping the little hints and unconscious expressions which prove that the subject was not only familiar, but full of pleasant memories to him.” His allusions, however, to the folk-lore associated with fishes are very few; but the two or three popular notions and proverbial sayings which he has quoted in connection with them help to embellish this part of our subject.

Carp.This fish was, proverbially, the most cunning of fishes, and so “Polonius’s comparison of his own worldly-wise deceit to the craft required for catching a carp” is most apt (“Hamlet,” ii. 1):[926]

“See you now;Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.”

This notion is founded on fact, the brain of the carp being six times as large as the average brain of other fishes.

Cockle.The badge of a pilgrim was, formerly, a cockle-shell, which was worn usually in the front of the hat. “The habit,” we are told,[927]“being sacred, this served as a protection, and therefore was often assumed as a disguise.” Theescalopwas sometimes used, and either of them was considered as an emblem of the pilgrim’s intention to go beyond the sea. Thus, in Ophelia’s ballad (“Hamlet,” iv. 5, song), the lover is to be known:

“By his cockle hat and staff,And his sandal shoon.”

In Peele’s “Old Wives’ Tale,” 1595, we read, “I will give thee a palmer’s staff of ivory, and a scallop-shell of beaten gold.” Nares, too, quotes from Green’s “Never Too Late” an account of the pilgrim’s dress:

“A hat of straw, like to a swain,Shelter for the sun and rain,With a scallop-shell before.”

Cuttle.A foul-mouthed fellow was so called, says Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps,[928]because this fish is said to throw out of its mouth, upon certain occasions, an inky and black juice that fouls the water; and, as an illustration of its use in this sense, he quotes Doll Tearsheet’s words to Pistol, “2 Henry IV.” ii. 4: “By this wine, I’ll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me.” Dyce says that the context would seem to imply that the term is equivalent to “culter, swaggerer, bully.”[929]

Gudgeon.This being the bait for many of the larger fish, “to swallow a gudgeon” was sometimes used for to be caught or deceived. More commonly, however, the allusion is to the ease with which the gudgeon itself is caught, asin the “Merchant of Venice” (i. 1), where Gratiano says:

“But fish not, with this melancholy bait,For this fool-gudgeon.”

Gurnet.The phrase “soused gurnet” was formerly a well-known term of reproach, in allusion to which Falstaff, in “1 Henry IV.” (iv. 2), says, “If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet.” The gurnet, of which there are several species, was probably thought a very coarse and vulgar dish when soused or pickled.

Loach.A small fish, known also as “the groundling.” The allusion to it by one of the carriers, in “1 Henry IV.” (ii. 1), who says, “Your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a loach,” has much puzzled the commentators. It appears, however, from a passage in Holland’s translation of Pliny’s “Natural History” (bk. ix. c. xlvii.), that anciently fishes were supposed to be infested with fleas: “Last of all some fishes there be which of themselves are given to breed fleas and lice; among which the chalcis, a kind of turgot, is one.” Malone suggests that the passage may mean, “breeds fleas as fast as a loach breeds loaches;” this fish being reckoned a peculiarly prolific one. It seems probable, however, that the carrier alludes to one of those fanciful notions which make up a great part of natural history among the common people.[930]At the present day there is a fisherman’s fancy on the Norfolk coast that fish and fleas come together. “Lawk, sir!” said an old fellow, near Cromer, to a correspondent of “Notes and Queries” (Oct. 7th, 1865), “times is as you may look in my flannel-shirt, and scarce see a flea, and then there ain’t but a very few herrin’s; but times that’ll be right alive with ’em, and then there’s sartin to be a sight o’ fish.”

Mr. Houghton, writing in theAcademy(May 27th, 1882) thinks that in the above passage the small river loach (Cobitis barbatula) is the fish intended. He says, “At certain times of the year, chiefly during the summer months, almost all fresh-water fish are liable to be infested with somekind of Epizoa. There are two kinds of parasitic creatures which are most commonly seen on various fish caught in the rivers and ponds of this country; and these are theArgulus foliaccus, a crustacean, and thePiscicola piscium, a small, cylindrical kind of leech.”

Mermaids.From the earliest ages mermaids have had a legendary existence—the sirens of the ancients evidently belonging to the same remarkable family. The orthodox mermaid is half woman, half fish, the fishy half being sometimes depicted asdoubly-tailed. Shakespeare frequently makes his characters talk about mermaids, as in the “Comedy of Errors” (iii. 2), where Antipholus of Syracuse says:

“O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears;Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote:Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,And as a bed I’ll take them and there lie,And, in that glorious supposition, thinkHe gains by death, that hath such means to die.”

And, again, further on, he adds:

“I’ll stop mine ears against the mermaid’s song.”

Staunton considers that in these passages the allusion is obviously to the long-current opinion that the siren, or mermaid, decoyed mortals to destruction by the witchery of her songs. This superstition has been charmingly illustrated by Leyden, in his poem, “The Mermaid” (see Scott’s “Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,” vol. iv. p. 294):

“Thus, all to soothe the chieftain’s woe,Far from the maid he loved so dear,The song arose, so soft and slow,He seem’d her parting sigh to hear.*****That sea-maid’s form of pearly lightWas whiter than the downy spray,And round her bosom, heaving bright,Her glossy, yellow ringlets play.Borne on a foaming, crested wave,She reached amain the bounding prow,Then, clasping fast the chieftain brave,She, plunging, sought the deep below.”

Borne on a foaming, crested wave,She reached amain the bounding prow,Then, clasping fast the chieftain brave,She, plunging, sought the deep below.”

This tradition gave rise to a curious custom in the Isle of Man, which, in Waldron’s time, was observed on the 24th of December, though afterwards on St. Stephen’s Day. It is said that, once upon a time, a fairy of uncommon beauty exerted such undue influence over the male population that she induced, by the enchantment of her sweet voice, numbers to follow her footsteps, till, by degrees, she led them into the sea, where they perished. This barbarous exercise of power had continued for a great length of time, till it was apprehended that the island would be exhausted of its defenders. Fortunately, however, a knight-errant sprang up, who discovered a means of counteracting the charms used by this siren—even laying a plot for her destruction, which she only escaped by taking the form of a wren. Although she evaded instant annihilation, a spell was cast upon her, by which she was condemned, on every succeeding New Year’s Day, to reanimate the same form, with the definite sentence that she must ultimately perish by human hand. Hence, on the specified anniversary, every effort was made to extirpate the fairy; and the poor wrens were pursued, pelted, fired at, and destroyed without mercy, their feathers being preserved as a charm against shipwreck for one year. At the present day there is no particular time for pursuing the wren; it is captured by boys alone, who keep up the old custom chiefly for amusement. On St. Stephen’s Day, a band of boys go from door to door with a wren suspended by the legs, in the centre of two hoops crossing each other at right angles, decorated with evergreens and ribbons, singing lines called “Hunt the Wren.”[931]

In “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (ii. 1), Oberon speaks of hearing “a mermaid on a dolphin’s back;” and in “Hamlet,” the Queen, referring to Ophelia’s death, says(iv. 7):

“Her clothes spread wide;And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up.”

In two other passages Shakespeare alludes to this legendary creature. Thus, in “3 Henry VI.” (iii. 2) Gloster boasts that he will “drown more sailors than the mermaid shall,” and in “Antony and Cleopatra” (ii. 2), Enobarbus relates how

“Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,So many mermaids, tended her i’ the eyes,And made their bends adornings: at the helmA seeming mermaid steers.”

In all these cases Shakespeare,[932]as was his wont, made his characters say what they were likely to think, in their several positions and periods of life. It has been suggested,[933]however, that the idea of the mermaid, in some of the passages just quoted, seems more applicable to the siren, especially in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream,” where the “mermaid on a dolphin’s back” could not easily have been so placed, had she had a fish-like tail instead of legs.

Notices of mermaids are scattered abundantly in books of bygone times. Mermen and mermaids, men of the sea, and women of the sea, having been as “stoutly believed in as the great sea-serpent, and on very much the same kind of evidence.” Holinshed gives a detailed account of a merman caught at Orford, in Suffolk, in the reign of King John. He was kept alive on raw meal and fish for six months, but at last “gledde secretelye to the sea, and was neuer after seene nor heard off.” Even in modern times we are told how, every now and then, a mermaid has made her appearance. Thus, in theGentleman’s Magazine(Jan., 1747), we read: “It is reported from the north of Scotland that some time this month a sea creature, known by the name of mermaid, which has the shape of a human body from the trunk upwards, but below is wholly fish, was carried some milesup the water of Dévron.” In 1824 a mermaid or merman made its appearance, when, as the papers of that day inform us, “upwards of 150 distinguished fashionables” went to see it.

The “Mermaid” was a famous tavern, situated in Bread Street.[934]As early as the fifteenth century, we are told it was one of the haunts of the pleasure-seeking Sir John Howard, whose trusty steward records, anno 1464: “Paid for wyn at the Mermayd in Bred Street, for my mastyr and Syr Nicholas Latimer, xd. ob.” In 1603 Sir Walter Raleigh established a Literary Club in this house, among its members being Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Selden, Carew, Martin, Donne, etc. It is often alluded to by Beaumont and Fletcher.

Minnow.This little fish, from its insignificant character, is used by “Coriolanus” (iii. 1) as a term of contempt: “Hear you this Triton of the minnows?” and, again, in “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (i. 1), it occurs: “‘that base minnow of thy mirth.’”

Pike.An old name for this fish wasluce. In the “Merry Wives of Windsor” (i. 1) we are told that “The luce is the fresh fish.” There can be no doubt, too, that there is in this passage an allusion to the armorial bearings of Shakespeare’s old enemy, Sir Thomas Lucy. Among the various instances of the use of this term we may quote Isaac Walton, who says: “The mighty luce or pike is taken to be the tyrant, as the salmon is the king, of the fresh waters.” Stow, in his “Survey of London,” describes a procession of the Fishmongers’ Company in 1298, as having horses painted likesea-luce: “Then four salmons of silver on foure horses, and after them sixe and fortie armed knightes riding on horses made likeluces of the sea.”

Porpoise.According to sailors, the playing of porpoises round a ship is a certain prognostic of a violent gale of wind; hence the allusion in “Pericles” (ii. 1), where one of the fishermen says, speaking of the storm: “Nay, master, saidnot I as much, when I saw the porpus, how he bounced and tumbled?” Thus, too, in the “Canterbury Guests, or a Bargain Broken,” by Ravenscroft, we read: “My heart begins to leap and play, like a porpice before a storm.” And a further reference occurs in Wilsford’s “Nature’s Secrets:” “Porpoises, or sea-hogs, when observed to sport and chase one another about ships, expect then some stormy weather.”

Sea-monster.The reference in “King Lear” (i. 4), to the “sea-monster”—

“Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,More hideous, when thou show’st thee in a child,Than the sea-monster!”—

is generally supposed to be the hippopotamus, which, according to Upton, was the hieroglyphical symbol of impiety and ingratitude.[935]Sandys[936]gives a picture said to be portrayed in the porch of the temple of Minerva, at Sais, in which is the figure of a river-horse, denoting “murder, impudence, violence, and injustice; for they say that he killeth his sire and ravisheth his own dam.” His account is, no doubt, taken from Plutarch’s “Isis and Osiris;” and Shakespeare may have read it in Holland’s translation (p. 1300), but why he should call the river-horse a “sea-monster” is not very clear. It is more likely, however, that the whale is meant.[937]

FOOTNOTES:[924]See Harting’s “Ornithology of Shakespeare,” 1871, p. 3.[925]“The Antiquary,” 1881, vol. iv. p. 193.[926]Ibid.[927]Nares’s “Glossary,” vol. i. p. 175.[928]“Handbook Index to the Works of Shakespeare,” 1866, p. 119.[929]See a note in Dyce’s “Glossary,” p. 112.[930]Nares’s “Glossary,” vol. ii. p. 518.[931]See “British Popular Customs,” pp. 494, 495.[932]See “Book of Days,” vol. ii. pp. 612-614.[933]Nares’s “Glossary,” vol. ii. p. 565; see Brand’s “Pop. Antiq.,” 1849, vol. iii. pp. 411-414.[934]“History of Sign-boards,” 1866, p. 226.[935]Wright’s “Notes to King Lear,” 1877, p. 133.[936]“Travels,” 1673, p. 105.[937]Cf. “King Lear,” iv. 2; “Troilus and Cressida,” v. 5; “All’s Well that End’s Well,” iv. 3.

[924]See Harting’s “Ornithology of Shakespeare,” 1871, p. 3.

[925]“The Antiquary,” 1881, vol. iv. p. 193.

[926]Ibid.

[927]Nares’s “Glossary,” vol. i. p. 175.

[928]“Handbook Index to the Works of Shakespeare,” 1866, p. 119.

[929]See a note in Dyce’s “Glossary,” p. 112.

[930]Nares’s “Glossary,” vol. ii. p. 518.

[931]See “British Popular Customs,” pp. 494, 495.

[932]See “Book of Days,” vol. ii. pp. 612-614.

[933]Nares’s “Glossary,” vol. ii. p. 565; see Brand’s “Pop. Antiq.,” 1849, vol. iii. pp. 411-414.

[934]“History of Sign-boards,” 1866, p. 226.

[935]Wright’s “Notes to King Lear,” 1877, p. 133.

[936]“Travels,” 1673, p. 105.

[937]Cf. “King Lear,” iv. 2; “Troilus and Cressida,” v. 5; “All’s Well that End’s Well,” iv. 3.

Almanacs.In Shakespeare’s day these were published under this title: “An Almanack and Prognostication made for the year of our Lord God, 1595.” So, in the “Winter’s Tale” (iv. 3), Autolycus says: “the hottest day prognostication proclaims;” that is, the hottest day foretold in the almanac. In Sonnet xiv. the prognostications in almanacs are also noticed:

“Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;And yet methinks I have astronomy,But not to tell of good or evil luck,Of plagues, of dearths, or season’s quality;Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind:Or say with princes if it shall go well,By oft predict that I in heaven find.”

In “Antony and Cleopatra” (i. 2) Enobarbus says: “They are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report;” and in “2 Henry IV.” (ii. 4), Prince Henry says: “Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what says the almanac to that?”

Amulets.A belief in the efficacy of an amulet or charm to ward off diseases and to avert contagion has prevailed from a very early period. The use of amulets was common among the Greeks and Romans, whose amulets were principally formed of gems, crowns of pearls, necklaces of coral, shells, etc. The amulet of modern times has been of the most varied kinds; objects being selected either from the animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdom, pieces of old rags or garments, scraps of writing in legible or illegible characters, in fact, of anything to which any superstitious property hasbeen considered to belong.[938]This form of superstition is noticed in “1 Henry VI.” (v. 3), in the scene laid at Angiers, where La Pucelle exclaims:

“The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly.Now help, ye charming spells and periapts”

—periapts being charms which were worn as preservatives against diseases or mischief. Thus Cotgrave[939]explains the word as “a medicine hanged about any part of the bodie.”

Ceremonies.These, says Malone, were “omens or signs deduced from sacrifices or other ceremonial rites.” Thus, in “Julius Cæsar” (ii. 1), Cassius says of Cæsar, that—

“he is superstitious grown of late,Quite from the main opinion he held onceOf fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies.”

And in the next scene Calpurnia adds:

“Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies,Yet now they fright me.”

Charms.These, as Mr. Pettigrew[940]has pointed out, differ little from amulets, the difference consisting in the manner in which they are used rather than in their nature. Thus, whereas the amulet was to be suspended on the person when employed, the charm was not necessarily subjected to such a method of application. In days gone by, and even at the present day, in country districts, so universal has been the use of this source of supposed magical power that there is scarcely a disease for which a charm has not been given. It is not only to diseases of body and mind that the superstitious practice has been directed; having been in popular request to avert evil, and to counteract supposed malignant influences. As might be expected, Shakespeare has given various allusions to this usage, as, for example, in“Cymbeline” (v. 3), where Posthumus says:

“To day, how many would have given their honoursTo have sav’d their carcases! took heel to do’t,And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm’d,Could not find death where I did hear him groan,Nor feel him where he struck”

—this passage referring to the notion of certain charms being powerful enough to keep men unhurt in battle.

Othello (iii. 4), speaking of the handkerchief which he had given to Desdemona, relates:

“That handkerchiefDid an Egyptian to my mother give;She was a charmer, and could almost readThe thoughts of people.”

And in the same play (i. 1), Brabantio asks:

“Is there not charms,By which the property of youth and maidhoodMay be abus’d?”

Again, in “Much Ado About Nothing” (iii. 2), Benedick, who is represented as having the toothache, after listening to the banter of his comrades, replies: “Yet is this no charm for the toothache.”

Perfect silence seems to have been regarded as indispensable for the success of any charm; and Pliny informs us that “favete linguis” was the usual exclamation employed on such an occasion. From this circumstance it has been suggested that the well-known phrase “to charm a tongue” may have originated. Thus we have the following dialogue in “Othello” (v. 2):

“Iago.Go to, charm your tongue.Emilia.I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak.”

“Iago.Go to, charm your tongue.

Emilia.I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak.”

Thus, on the appearance, amid thunder, of the first apparition to Macbeth, after the witches have performed certain charms (iv. 1), Shakespeare introduces the following dialogue:

“Macbeth.Tell me, thou unknown power—First Witch.He knows thy thought:Hear his speech, but say thou nought.”

“Macbeth.Tell me, thou unknown power—

First Witch.He knows thy thought:Hear his speech, but say thou nought.”

Again, in “The Tempest” (iv. 1), Prospero says:

“hush, and be mute,Or else our spell is marr’d.”

Metrical Charms.There was a superstition long prevalent that life might be taken away by metrical charms.[941]Reginald Scot, in his “Discovery of Witchcraft” (1584), says: “The Irishmen addict themselves, etc.; yea, they will not sticke to affirme that they canrimea man to death.” In “1 Henry VI.” (i. 1), the Duke of Exeter, referring to the lamented death of Henry V., says:

“Shall we think the subtle-witted FrenchConjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him,By magic verses have contrived his end?”

These “magic verses,” to which the death of Henry V. is here attributed, were not required to be uttered in his presence; their deadly energy existing solely in the words of the imprecation and the malevolence of the reciter, which were supposed to render them effectual at any distance.

Again, the alphabet was called the Christ-cross-row; either because a cross was prefixed to the alphabet in the old primers, or, more probably, from a superstitious custom of writing the alphabet in the form of a cross by way of a charm. In “Richard III.” (i. 1), Clarence relates how King Edward—

“Hearkens after prophecies and dreams;And from the cross-row plucks the letter G.”

Dreams.These, considered as prognostics of good or evil, are frequently introduced by Shakespeare. In “Troilus and Cressida” (v. 3), Andromache exclaims:

“My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day.”

While Romeo (“Romeo and Juliet,” v. 1) declares:

“My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.”

It is chiefly as precursors of misfortune that the poet hasavailed himself of their supposed influence as omens of future fate. Thus, there are few passages in his dramas more terrific than the dreams of Richard III. and Clarence; the latter especially, as Mr. Drake says,[942]“is replete with the most fearful imagery, and makes the blood run chill with horror.”

Dreaming of certain things has generally been supposed to be ominous either of good or ill luck;[943]and at the present day the credulous pay oftentimes no small attention to their dreams, should these happen to have referred to what they consider unlucky things. In the same way Shylock, in the “Merchant of Venice” (ii. 5), is a victim to much superstitious dread:

“Jessica, my girl,Look to my house. I am right loath to go:There is some ill a brewing towards my rest,For I did dream of money-bags to-night.”

In “Julius Cæsar,” dreaming of banquet is supposed to presage misfortune.

It was also supposed that malicious spirits took advantage of sleep to torment their victims;[944]hence Macbeth (ii. 1) exclaims:

“Merciful powers,Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that natureGives way to in repose!”[945]

Duels.The death of the vanquished person was always considered a certain evidence of his guilt. Thus, in “2 Henry VI.” (ii. 3), King Henry, speaking of the death of Horner in the duel with Peter, says:[946]

“Go, take hence that traitor from our sight;For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt:And God in justice hath reveal’d to usThe truth and innocence of this poor fellow,Which he had thought to have murder’d wrongfully.—Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.”

We may also compare what Arcite says to Palamon in the “Two Noble Kinsmen” (iii. 6):

“If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward;For none but such dare die in these just trials.”

Among the customs connected with duelling, it appears that, according to an old law, knights were to fight with the lance and the sword, as those of inferior rank fought with an ebon staff or baton, to the farther end of which was fixed a bag crammed hard with sand.[947]Thus Shakespeare, in “2 Henry VI.” (ii. 3), represents Horner entering “bearing his staff with a sand-bag fastened to it.” Butler, in his “Hudibras,” alludes to this custom:

“Engag’d with money-bags, as boldAs men with sand-bags did of old.”

Steevens adds that “a passage in St. Chrysostom very clearly proves the great antiquity of this practice.”

Fortune-tellers.A common method of fortune-tellers, in pretending to tell future events, was by means of a beryl or glass. In an extract from the “Penal Laws against Witches,” it is said, “they do answer either by voice, or else set before their eyes, in glasses, chrystal stones, etc., the pictures or images of the persons or things sought for.” It is to this kind of juggling prophecy that Angelo, in “Measure for Measure” (ii. 2), refers, when he tells how the law—

“like a prophet,Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils,Either new, or by remissness new-conceiv’d.”

Again, Macbeth (iv. 1), when “a show of eight kings” is presented to him, exclaims, after witnessing the seventh:

“I’ll see no more:—And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,Which shows me many more.”

Spenser[948]has given a circumstantial account of the glasswhich Merlin made for King Ryence. A mirror of the same kind was presented to Cambuscan, in the “Squier’s Tale” of Chaucer; and we are also told how “a certain philosopher did the like to Pompey, the which showed him in a glass the order of his enemies’ march.”[949]Brand, in his “Popular Antiquities,”[950]gives several interesting accounts of this method of fortune-telling; and quotes the following from Vallancey’s “Collectanea de Rebus Hibernicis:” “In the Highlands of Scotland, a large chrystal, of a figure somewhat oval, was kept by the priests to work charms by; water poured upon it at this day is given to cattle against diseases; these stones are now preserved by the oldest and most superstitious in the country; they were once common in Ireland.”

Further allusions to fortune-tellers occur in “Comedy of Errors” (v. 1), and “Merry Wives of Windsor” (iv. 2).

It appears, too, that the trade of fortune-telling was, in Shakespeare’s day, as now, exercised by the wandering hordes of gypsies. In “Antony and Cleopatra” (iv. 12), the Roman complains that Cleopatra

“Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,Beguil’d me to the very heart of loss.”

Giants.The belief in giants and other monsters was much credited in olden times, and, “among the legends of nearly every race or tribe, few are more universal than those relating to giants or men of colossal size and superhuman power.”[951]That such stories were current in Shakespeare’s day, is attested by the fact that the poet makes Othello (i. 3), in his eloquent defence before the Senate of Venice, when explaining his method of courtship, allude to

“the Cannibals that each other eat,The Anthropophagi, and men whose headsDo grow beneath their shoulders.”

In “The Tempest” (iii. 3), Gonzalo relates how—

“When we were boys,Who would believe that there were mountaineersDew-lapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ’emWallets of flesh? or that there were such men,Whose heads stood in their breasts?”

And after the appearance of Prospero’s magic repast, Sebastian says:

“Now I will believeThat there are unicorns; that in ArabiaThere is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnixAt this hour reigning there.”

Among the numerous references to giants by Shakespeare, we may quote the following. In “2 Henry VI.” (ii. 3), Horner says: “Peter, have at thee with a downright blow [as Bevis of Southampton fell upon Ascapart].”[952]

Ascapart, according to the legend, was “ful thyrty fote longe,” and was conquered by Sir Bevis of Southampton.

In “Cymbeline” (iii 3), Belarius says:

“the gates of monarchsAre arch’d so high, that giants may jet throughAnd keep their impious turbans on, withoutGood morrow to the sun.”

In the “Merry Wives of Windsor” (ii. 1), Mrs. Page says: “I had rather be a giantess, and lie under Mount Pelion.”[953]

Lucky Days.From the most remote period certain days have been supposed to be just as lucky as others are the reverse, a notion which is not confined to any one country. In Shakespeare’s day great attention was paid to this superstitious fancy, which is probably alluded to in the “Winter’s Tale” (iii. 3), where the Shepherd says to the Clown, “’Tisa lucky day, boy; and we’ll do good deeds on’t.”

In “King John” (iii. 1) Constance exclaims:

“What hath this day deserv’d? what hath it done,That it in golden letters should be setAmong the high tides in the calendar?Nay, rather turn this day out of the week,This day of shame, oppression, perjury:Or, if it must stand still, let wives with childPray that their burthens may not fall this day,Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross’d:But on this day let seamen fear no wreck;No bargains break that are not this day made:This day, all things begun come to ill end,Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change!”

Again, Macbeth (iv. 1) says:

“Let this pernicious hourStand aye accursed in the calendar!”

In the old almanacs the days supposed to be favorable or unfavorable are enumerated, allusion to which occurs in Webster’s “Duchess of Malfy,” 1623:

“By the almanack, I think,To choose good days and shun the critical.”

At the present day this superstition still retains its hold on the popular mind, and in the transactions of life exerts an important influence.[954]

Magic.The system of magic, which holds such a prominent place in “The Tempest,” was formerly an article in the popular creed, and as such is frequently noticed by the writers of Shakespeare’s time. Thus, in describing Prospero, Shakespeare has given him several of the adjuncts, besides the costume, of the popular magician, much virtue being inherent in his very garments. So Prospero, when addressing his daughter (i. 2), says:

“Lend thy hand,And pluck my magic garment from me.—So;Lie there, my art.”

A similar importance is assigned to his staff, for he tells Ferdinand (i. 2):

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