FOOTNOTES:

“There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st,But in his motion like an angel sings,Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins.”

Plato says that a siren sits on each planet, who carols a most sweet song, agreeing to the motion of her own particular planet, but harmonizing with the other seven. Hence Milton, in his “Arcades,” speaks of the “celestial Sirens’ harmony, that sit upon the nine enfolded spheres.”

Stars.An astrological doctrine, which has kept its place in modern popular philosophy, asserts that mundane events are more or less influenced by the stars. That astronomersshould have divided the sun’s course into imaginary signs of the Zodiac, was enough, says Mr. Tylor,[124]to originate astrological rules “that these celestial signs have an actual effect on real earthly rams, bulls, crabs, lions, virgins.” Hence we are told that a child born under the sign of the Lion will be courageous; but one born under the Crab will not go forth well in life; one born under the Waterman is likely to be drowned, and so forth. Shakespeare frequently alludes to this piece of superstition, which, it must be remembered, was carried to a ridiculous height in his day. In “Julius Cæsar” (i. 2), Cassius says:

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

In the following passage in “Twelfth Night” (i. 3):

“Sir Tob.Were we not born under Taurus?Sir And.Taurus! that’s sides and heart.Sir Tob.No, sir; it is legs and thighs.”

“Sir Tob.Were we not born under Taurus?

Sir And.Taurus! that’s sides and heart.

Sir Tob.No, sir; it is legs and thighs.”

“Both the knights,” says Mr. Douce (“Illustrations of Shakespeare,” p. 54), “are wrong in their astrology, according to the almanacs of the time, which make Taurus govern the neck and throat.”

Beatrice, in “Much Ado about Nothing” (ii. 1), says: “there was a star danced, and under that was I born;” Kent, in “King Lear” (iv. 3), remarks,

“It is the stars,The stars above us, govern our conditions;”

and once more, in “Pericles” (i. 1), King Antiochus, speaking of the charming qualities of his daughter, says:

“Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride,For the embracements even of Jove himself:At whose conception, till Lucina reign’d,Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence,The senate-house of planets all did sit,To knit in her their best perfections.”[125]

Throughout the East, says Mr. Tylor,[126]“astrology even nowremains a science in full esteem. The condition of mediæval Europe may still be perfectly realized by the traveller in Persia, where the Shah waits for days outside the walls of his capital till the constellations allow him to enter; and where, on the days appointed by the stars for letting blood, it literally flows in streams from the barbers’ shops in the streets. Professor Wuttke declares that there are many districts in Germany where the child’s horoscope is still regularly kept with the baptismal certificate in the family chest.” Astrology is ridiculed in a masterly manner in “King Lear” (i. 2); and Warburton suggests that if the date of the first performance of “King Lear” were well considered, “it would be found that something or other had happened at that time which gave a more than ordinary run to this deceit, as these words seem to indicate—‘I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.’” Zouch,[127]speaking of Queen Mary’s reign, tells us that “Judicial astrology was much in use long after this time. Its predictions were received with reverential awe: and even men of the most enlightened understandings were inclined to believe that the conjunctions and oppositions of the planets had no little influence in the affairs of the world.”

The pretence, also, of predicting events, such as pestilence, from the aspect of the heavenly bodies—one form of medical astrology—is noticed in “Venus and Adonis:”

“Long may they kiss each other, for this cure!O, never let their crimson liveries wear!And as they last, their verdure still endure,To drive infection from the dangerous year!That the star-gazers, having writ on death,May say, the plague is banish’d by thy breath!”

Heroes were in ancient times immortalized by being placed among the stars, a custom to which Bedford refers in “1 Henry VI.” (i. 1):

“A far more glorious star thy soul will makeThan Julius Cæsar.”

And, again, “Pericles” (v. 3) exclaims:

“Heavens make a star of him.”

On a medal of Hadrian, the adopted son of Trajan and Plotina, the divinity of his parents is expressed by placing a star over their heads; and in like manner the medals of Faustina the Elder exhibit her on an eagle, her head surrounded with stars.[128]

In “2 Henry IV.” (iv. 3) a ludicrous term for the stars is, “cinders of the elements;” and in “Merchant of Venice” (v. 1) they are designated “candles of the night.”

Meteors.An elegant description of a meteor well known to sailors is given by Ariel in “The Tempest” (i. 2):

“sometime I’d divideAnd burn in many places; on the topmast,The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,Then meet and join.”

It is called, by the French and Spaniards inhabiting the coasts of the Mediterranean, St. Helme’s or St. Telme’s fire; by the Italians, the fire of St. Peter and St. Nicholas. It is also known as the fire of St. Helen, St. Herm, and St. Clare. Douce[129]tells us that whenever it appeared as a single flame it was supposed by the ancients to be Helena, the sister of Castor and Pollux, and in this state to bring ill luck, from the calamities which this lady is known to have caused in the Trojan war. When it came as a double flame it was called Castor and Pollux, and accounted a good omen. It has been described as a little blaze of fire, sometimes appearing by night on the tops of soldiers’ lances, or at sea on masts and sailyards, whirling and leaping in a moment from one place to another. According to some, it never appears but after a tempest, and is supposed to lead people to suicide by drowning. Shakespeare in all probability consulted Batman’s “Golden Books of the Leaden Goddes,” who, speakingof Castor and Pollux, says: “They were figured like two lampes or cresset lightes—one on the toppe of a maste, the other on the stemme or foreshippe.” He adds that if the first light appears in the stem or foreship and ascends upwards, it is a sign of good luck; if “either lights begin at the topmast, bowsprit,” or foreship, and descends towards the sea, it is a sign of a tempest. In taking, therefore, the latter position, Ariel had fulfilled the commands of Prospero, and raised a storm.[130]Mr. Swainson, in his “Weather-Lore” (1873, p. 193), quotes the following, which is to the same purport:

“Last night I saw Saint Elmo’s stars,With their glittering lanterns all at play,On the tops of the masts and the tips of the spars,And I knew we should have foul weather that day.”

Capell, in his “School of Shakespeare” (1779, iii. 7), has pointed out a passage in Hakluyt’s “Voyages” (1598, iii. 450), which strikingly illustrates the speech of Ariel quoted above: “I do remember that in the great and boysterous storme of this foule weather, in the night, there came vpon the toppe of our maine yarde and maine maste, a certaine little light, much like unto the light of a little candle, which the Spaniards called the Cuerpo-Santo, and said it was St. Elmo, whom they take to bee the aduocate of sailers.... This light continued aboord our ship about three houres, flying from maste to maste, and from top to top; and sometimes it would be in two or three places at once.” This meteor was by some supposed to be a spirit; and by others “an exhalation of moyst vapours, that are ingendered by foul and tempestuous weather.”[131]Mr. Thoms, in his “Notelets on Shakespeare” (1865, p. 59), says that, no doubt, Shakespeare had in mind the will-o’-the-wisp.[132]

Fire-Drake, which is jocularly used in “Henry VIII.” (v. 4) for a man with a red face, was one of the popular terms forthe will-o’-the-wisp,[133]and Burton, in his “Anatomy of Melancholy,” says: “Fiery spirits or devils are such as commonly work by fire-drakes, or ignes fatui, which lead men often in flumina et præcipitia.” In Bullokar’s “English Expositor” (1616), we have a quaint account of this phenomenon: “Fire-drake; a fire sometimes seen flying in the night like a dragon. Common people think it a spirit that keepeth some treasure hid, but philosophers affirme it to be a great unequal exhalation inflamed betweene two clouds, the one hot, the other cold, which is the reason that it also smoketh, the middle part whereof, according to the proportion of the hot cloud being greater than the rest, maketh it seem like a bellie, and both ends like unto a head and taill.”[134]White, however, in his “Peripateticall Institutions” (p. 156), calls the fiery-dragon or fire-drake, “a weaker kind of lightning. Its livid colors, and its falling without noise and slowly, demonstrate a great mixture of watery exhalation in it.... ’Tis sufficient for its shape, that it has some resemblance of a dragon, not the expresse figure.”

Among other allusions to the will-o’-the-wisp by Shakespeare, Mr. Hunter[135]notices one in “King Lear” (iii. 4), where Gloster’s torch being seen in the distance, the fool says, “Look, here comes a walking fire.” Whereupon Edgar replies, “This is the foul fiend, Flibbertigibbet; he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock.” “From which,” observes Mr. Hunter, “Flibbertigibbet seems to be a name for the will-o’-the-wisp. Hence the propriety of ‘Hebegins at curfew, and walks till the crowing of the cock,’ that is, is seen in all the dark of the night.” It appears that whenShakespeare wrote, “a walking fire” was a common name for theignis fatuus, as we learn from the story of “How Robin Goodfellow lead a company of fellows out of their way:” “A company of young men, having been making merry with their sweethearts, were, at their coming home, to come over a heath; Robin Goodfellow, knowing of it, met them, and to make some pastime hee led them up and downe the heathe a whole night, so that they could not get out of it, for hee went before them in the shape of awalking fire, which they all saw and followed till the day did appeare; then Robin left them, and at his departure spake these words:

“‘Get you home, you merry lads,Tell your mammies and your dads,And all those that newes desireHow you saw a walking fire,Wenches, that doe smile and lispe,Use to call me willy-wispe.’”

Another allusion to this subject occurs in “The Tempest” (iv. 1), where Stephano, after Ariel has led him and his drunken companions through “tooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns,” and at last “left them i’ the filthy mantled pool,” reproaches Caliban in these words: “Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us”—that is, to quote Dr. Johnson’s explanation of this passage, “he has played Jack-with-a-lanthorn, has led us about like anignis fatuus, by which travellers are decoyed into the mire.”[136]Once more, when Puck, in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (iii. 1), speaks of the various forms he assumes in order to “mislead night wanderers, laughing at their harm,” he says:

“Sometime a horse I’ll be, sometime a hound,A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire.”

Shakespeare, no doubt, here alludes to the will-o’-the wisp, an opinion shared by Mr. Joseph Ritson,[137]who says: “ThisPuck, or Robin Goodfellow, seems likewise to be the illusory candle-holder, so fatal to travellers, and who is more usually called ‘Jack-a-lantern,’[138]or ‘Will-with-a-wisp,’ and ‘Kit-with-the-candlestick.’” Milton, in “Paradise Lost” (book ix.), alludes to this deceptive gleam in the following lines:

“A wandering fireCompact of unctuous vapour, which the nightCondenses, and the cold environs round,Kindled through agitation to a flame,Which oft, they say, some evil spirit attends,Hovering and blazing with delusive light,Misleads th’ amaz’d night-wanderer from his wayTo bogs and mires, and oft through pond and pool.”[139]

This appearance has given rise to a most extensive folk-lore, and is embodied in many of the fairy legends and superstitions of this and other countries. Thus, in Germany, Jack-o’-lanterns are said to be the souls of unbaptized children, that have no rest in the grave, and must hover between heaven and earth. In many places they are called land-measurers, and are seen like figures of fire, running to and fro with a red-hot measuring rod. These are said to be persons who have falsely sworn away land, or fraudulently measured it, or removed landmarks.[140]In the neighborhood of Magdeburg, they are known as “Lüchtemannekens;” and to cause them to appear, it is sufficient to call out “Ninove,Ninove.” In the South Altmark they are termed “Dickepôten;” and if a person only prays as soon as he sees one, he draws it to him; if he curses, it retires. In some parts, too, a popular name is “Huckepôten,” and “Tuckbolde.” The Jack-o’-lanterns of Denmark[141]are the spirits of unrighteous men, who, by a false glimmer, seek to mislead the traveller, and to decoy him into bogs and moors. The best safeguard against them, when they appear, is to turn one’s cap inside out. A similar notion occurs in Devonshire with regard to the Pixies, who delight in leading astray such persons as they find abroad after nightfall; the only remedy to escape them being to turn some part of the dress. In Normandy these fires are called “Feux Follets,” and they are believed to be cruel spirits, whom it is dangerous to encounter. Among the superstitions which prevail in connection with them, two, says Mr. Thoms,[142]are deserving of notice: “One is, that theignis fatuusis the spirit of some unhappy woman, who is destined to runen furolle, to expiate her intrigues with a minister of the church, and it is designated from that circumstance La Fourlore, or La Fourolle.” Another opinion is, that Le Feu Follet is the soul of a priest, who has been condemned thus to expiate his broken vows of perpetual chastity; and it is very probable that it is to some similar belief existing in this country, at the time when he wrote, that Milton alludes in “L’Allegro,” when he says:

“She was pinched and pulled, she said,And he by Friar’s Lanthorn led.”

In Brittany the “Porte-brandon” appears in the form of a child bearing a torch, which he turns like a burning wheel; and with this, we are told, he sets fire to the villages, which are suddenly, sometimes in the middle of the night, wrapped in flames.

The appearance of meteors Shakespeare ranks among omens, as in “1 Henry IV.” (ii. 4), where Bardolph says: “My lord, do you see these meteors? do you behold these exhalations?What think you they portend?” And in “King John” (iii. 4), Pandulph speaks of meteors as “prodigies and signs.” The Welsh captain, in “Richard II.” (ii. 4), says:

“’Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay.The bay-trees in our country are all wither’d,And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven.”

Comet.From the earliest times comets have been superstitiously regarded, and ranked among omens. Thus Thucydides tells us that the Peloponnesian war was heralded by an abundance of earthquakes and comets; and Vergil, in speaking of the death of Cæsar, declares that at no other time did comets and other supernatural prodigies appear in greater numbers. It is probably to this latter event that Shakespeare alludes in “Julius Cæsar” (ii. 2), where he represents Calpurnia as saying:

“When beggars die, there are no comets seen;The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.”

Again, in “1 Henry VI.” (i. 1), the play opens with the following words, uttered by the Duke of Bedford:

“Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!Comets, importing change of times and states,Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,And with them scourge the bad revolting starsThat have consented unto Henry’s death!”

In “Taming of the Shrew” (iii. 2), too, Petruchio, when he makes his appearance on his wedding-day, says:

“Gentles, methinks you frown:And wherefore gaze this goodly company,As if they saw some wondrous monument,Some comet, or unusual prodigy?”

In “1 Henry IV.” (iii. 2), the king, when telling his son how he had always avoided making himself “common-hackney’d in the eyes of men,” adds:

“By being seldom seen, I could not stirBut, like a comet, I was wonder’d at.”

Arcite, in the “Two Noble Kinsmen” (v. 1), when addressingthe altar of Mars, says:

“Whose approachComets forewarn.”[143]

Dew.Among the many virtues ascribed to dew was its supposed power over the complexion, a source of superstition which still finds many believers, especially on May morning. All dew, however, does not appear to have possessed this quality, some being of a deadly or malignant quality. Thus Ariel, in “The Tempest” (i. 2), speaks of the “deep brook” in the harbor:

“where onceThou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dewFrom the still vex’d Bermoothes.”

And Caliban (i. 2), when venting his rage on Prospero and Miranda, can find no stronger curse than the following:

“As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’d,With raven’s feather from unwholesome fenDrop on you both!”

It has been suggested that in “Antony and Cleopatra” (iii. 12) Shakespeare may refer to an old notion whereby the sea was considered the source of dews as well as rain. Euphronius is represented as saying:

“Such as I am, I come from Antony:I was of late as petty to his endsAs is the morn-dew on the myrtle leafTo his grand sea.”

According to an erroneous notion formerly current, it was supposed that the air, and not the earth, drizzled dew—a notion referred to in “Romeo and Juliet” (iii. 5):

“When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew.”

And in “King John” (ii. 1):

“Before the dew of evening fall.”

Then there is the celebrated honey-dew, a substance whichhas furnished the poet with a touching simile, which he has put into the mouth of “Titus Andronicus” (iii. 1):

“When I did name her brothers, then fresh tearsStood on her cheeks; as doth the honey-dewUpon a gather’d lily almost wither’d.”

According to Pliny, “honey-dew” is the saliva of the stars, or a liquid produced by the purgation of the air. It is, however, a secretion deposited by a small insect, which is distinguished by the generic name of aphis.[144]

Rainbow.Secondary rainbows, the watery appearance in the sky accompanying the rainbow, are in many places termed “water-galls”—a term we find in the “Rape of Lucrece” (1586-89):

“And round about her tear-distained eyeBlue circles stream’d, like rainbows in the sky:These water-galls in her dim elementForetell new storms to those already spent.”

Horace Walpole several times makes use of the word: “False good news are always produced by true good, like the water-gall by the rainbow;” and again, “Thank heaven it is complete, and did not remain imperfect, like a water-gall.”[145]In “The Dialect of Craven” we find “Water-gall, a secondary or broken rainbow.Germ.Wasser-galle.”

Thunder.According to an erroneous fancy the destruction occasioned by lightning was effected by some solid body known as the thunder-stone or thunder-bolt. Thus, in the beautiful dirge in “Cymbeline” (iv. 2):

“Guid.Fear no more the lightning flash,Arv.Or the all-dreaded thunder-stone.”

“Guid.Fear no more the lightning flash,

Arv.Or the all-dreaded thunder-stone.”

Othello asks (v. 2):

“Are there no stones in heavenBut what serve for the thunder?”

And in “Julius Cæsar” (i. 3), Cassius says:

“And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone.”

The thunder-stone is the imaginary product of the thunder, which the ancients calledBrontia, mentioned by Pliny (“Nat. Hist.” xxxvii. 10) as a species of gem, and as that which, falling with the lightning, does the mischief. It is the fossil commonly called the Belemnite, or finger-stone, and now known to be a shell.

A superstitious notion prevailed among the ancients that those who were stricken with lightning were honored by Jupiter, and therefore to be accounted holy. It is probably to this idea that Shakespeare alludes in “Antony and Cleopatra” (ii. 5):

“Some innocents ’scape not the thunderbolt.”[146]

The bodies of such were supposed not to putrefy; and, after having been exhibited for a certain time to the people, were not buried in the usual manner, but interred on the spot where the lightning fell, and a monument erected over them. Some, however, held a contrary opinion. Thus Persius (sat. ii. l. 27) says:

“Triste jaces lucis evitandumque bidental.”

The ground, too, that had been smitten by a thunder-bolt was accounted sacred, and afterwards enclosed; nor did any one even presume to walk on it. Such spots were, therefore, consecrated to the gods, and could not in future become the property of any one.

Among the many other items of folk-lore associated with thunder is a curious one referred to in “Pericles” (iv. 3): “Thunder shall not so awake the bed of eels.” The notion formerly being that thunder had the effect of rousing eels from their mud, and so rendered them more easy to be taken in stormy weather. Marston alludes to this superstition in his satires (“Scourge of Villainie,” sat.vii.):

“They are nought but eeles, that never will appeareTill that tempestuous winds or thunder teareTheir slimy beds.”

The silence that often precedes a thunder-storm is thus graphically described in “Hamlet” (ii. 2):

“‘we often see, against some storm,A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,The bold winds speechless, and the orb belowAs hush as death, anon the dreadful thunderDoth rend the region.’”

Earthquakes, around which so many curious myths and superstitions have clustered,[147]are scarcely noticed by Shakespeare. They are mentioned among the ominous signs of that terrible night on which Duncan is so treacherously slain (“Macbeth,” ii. 3):

“the obscure birdClamour’d the livelong night: some say, the earthWas feverous and did shake.”

And in “1 Henry IV.” (iii. 1) Hotspur assigns as a reason for the earthquakes the following theory:

“Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forthIn strange eruptions; oft the teeming earthIs with a kind of colic pinch’d and vex’dBy the imprisoning of unruly windWithin her womb; which, for enlargement striving,Shakes the old beldam earth, and topples downSteeples, and moss-grown towers.”

Equinox.The storms that prevail in spring at the vernal equinox are aptly alluded to in “Macbeth” (i. 2):

“As whence the sun ’gins his reflectionShipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,So from that spring, whence comfort seem’d to come,Discomfort swells.”

—the meaning being: the beginning of the reflection of the sun is the epoch of his passing from the severe to the milderseason, opening, however, with storms.

Wind.An immense deal of curious weather-lore[148]has been associated with the wind from the earliest period; and in our own and foreign countries innumerable proverbs are found describing the future state of the weather from the position of the wind, for, according to an old saying, “every wind has its weather.” Shakespeare has introduced some of these, showing how keen an observer he was of those every-day sayings which have always been much in use, especially among the lower classes. Thus the proverbial wet which accompanies the wind when in the south is mentioned in “As You Like It” (iii. 5):

“Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain.”

And again, in “1 Henry IV.” (v. 1):

“The southern windDoth play the trumpet to his [i. e., the sun’s] purposes;And by his hollow whistling in the leavesForetells a tempest, and a blustering day.”

A popular saying to the same effect, still in use, tells us that:

“When the wind is in the south,It is in the rain’s mouth.”

Again, in days gone by, the southerly winds were generally supposed to be bearers of noxious fogs and vapors, frequent allusions to which are given by Shakespeare. Thus, in “The Tempest” (i. 2), Caliban says:

“a south-west blow on yeAnd blister you all o’er.”

A book,[149]too, with which, as already noticed, Shakespeare appears to have been familiar, tells us, “This southern wind is hot and moist. Southern winds corrupt and destroy; they heat, and make men fall into the sickness.” Hence, in “Troilus and Cressida” (v. 1), Thersites speaks of “the rottendiseases of the south;” and in “Coriolanus” (i. 4), Marcius exclaims:

“All the contagion of the south light on you.”

Once more, in “Cymbeline” (ii. 3), Cloten speaks in the same strain: “The south fog rot him.”

Flaws.These are sudden gusts of wind. It was the opinion, says Warburton, “of some philosophers that the vapors being congealed in the air by cold (which is the most intense in the morning), and being afterwards rarefied and let loose by the warmth of the sun, occasion those sudden and impetuous gusts of wind which were called ‘flaws.’” Thus he comments on the following passage in “2 Henry IV.” (iv. 4):

“As humorous as winter, and as suddenAs flaws congealed in the spring of day.”

In “2 Henry VI.” (iii. 1) these outbursts of wind are further alluded to:

“And this fell tempest shall not cease to rageUntil the golden circuit on my head,Like to the glorious sun’s transparent beams,Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.”

Again, in “Venus and Adonis” (425), there is an additional reference:

“Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken’dWreck to the seaman, tempest to the field,Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.”

In the Cornish dialect aflawsignifies primitively a cut.[150]But it is also there used in a secondary sense for those sudden or cutting gusts of wind.[151]

Squalls.There is a common notion that “the sudden storm lasts not three hours,” an idea referred to by John of Gaunt in “Richard II.” (ii. 1):

“Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short.”

Thus, in Norfolk, the peasantry say that “the faster the rain,the quicker the hold up,” which is only a difference in words from the popular adage, “after a storm comes a calm.”

Clouds.In days gone by, clouds floating before the wind, like a reek or vapor, were termed racking clouds. Hence in “3 Henry VI.” (ii. 1), Richard speaks of:

“Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun;Not separated with the racking clouds.”

This verb, though now obsolete, was formerly in common use; and in “King Edward III.,” 1596, we read:

“Like inconstant clouds,That, rack’d upon the carriage of the winds,Increase,” etc.

At the present day one may often hear the phrase, the rack of the weather, in our agricultural districts; many, too, of the items of weather-lore noticed by Shakespeare being still firmly credited by our peasantry.

FOOTNOTES:[89]Singer’s “Shakespeare,” vol. x. p. 292.[90]“Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, pp. 255, 256.[91]Singer’s “Shakespeare,” vol. viii. p. 208.[92]See Knight’s “Life of Shakespeare,” 1843, p. 63.[93]“Pop. Antiq.,” 1849, vol. iii. p. 241.[94]See Swainson’s “Weather-Lore,” 1873, p. 176, for popular adages on the Continent.[95]“Weather-Lore,” pp. 175, 176.[96]Napier’s “Folk-Lore of West of Scotland,” 1879, p. 141.[97]Quoted in Southey’s “Commonplace Book,” 1849, 2d series, p. 462.[98]See Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” 1871, vol. i. pp. 261, 296, 297, 321.[99]In “3 Henry VI.” (ii. 1), Edward says:“henceforward will I bearUpon my target three fair shining suns.”[100]“Glossary to Shakespeare,” p. 283.[101]Ray gives the Latin equivalent “Ab equis ad asinos.”[102]Baring-Gould’s “Curious Myths of the Middle Ages,” 1877, p. 190.[103]Cf. “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (v. 2): “Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.”[104]Fiske, “Myths and Mythmakers,” 1873, p. 27.[105]“Curious Myths of the Middle Ages,” 1877, p. 197.[106]Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 10.[107]For further information on this subject, see Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” 1873, vol. i. pp. 288, 354-356; vol. ii. pp. 70, 202, 203.[108]See Brand’s “Pop. Antiq.,” vol. iii. pp. 142, 143.[109]See “English Folk-lore,” pp. 43, 44.[110]“Primitive Culture,” 1873, vol. i. pp. 354, 355.[111]The words “moonish” (“As You Like It,” iii. 2) and “moonlike” (“Love’s Labour’s Lost,” iv. 3) are used in the sense of inconstant.[112]See Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 18.[113]Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” vol. i. p. 329.[114]“Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 16.[115]See Scot’s “Discovery of Witchcraft,” 1584, pp. 174, 226, 227, 250.[116]For further examples, see Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” p. 17.[117]See Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 116.[118]See Swainson’s “Weather-Lore,” 1873, pp. 182-192.[119]See Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” 1873, vol. i. p. 130; “English Folk-Lore,” 1878, pp. 41, 42.[120]See Swainson’s “Weather-Lore,” pp. 182, 183.[121]See Williams’s “Superstitions of Witchcraft,” pp. 123-125; Scot’s “Discovery of Witchcraft,” bk. iv. p. 145.[122]“Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 405.[123]Nares’s “Glossary,” 1872, vol. ii. p. 580.[124]“Primitive Culture,” vol. i. p. 131.[125]Cf. “Richard III.” (iv. 4); “1 Henry IV.” (i. 1, iii. 1); “Antony and Cleopatra” (iii. 13); “The Tempest” (i. 2); “Hamlet” (i. 4); “Cymbeline” (v. 4); “Winter’s Tale” (iii. 2); “Richard II.” (iv. 1).[126]“Primitive Culture,” vol. i. p. 131; see Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” 1849, vol. iii. pp. 341-348.[127]“Walton’s Lives,” 1796, p. 113, note.[128]Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 397.[129]Ibid. p. 3.[130]See Brand’s “Pop. Antiq.,” 1849, vol. iii. p. 400.[131]Purchas, “His Pilgrimes” (1625, pt. i. lib. iii. p. 133), quoted by Mr. Aldis Wright in his “Notes to The Tempest,” 1875, p. 86.[132]SeePuck as Will-o’-the-Wisp; chapter on “Fairy-Lore.”[133]See “Notes and Queries,” 5th series, vol. x. p. 499; Brand’s “Pop. Antiq.,” 1849, vol. iii. p. 410; Nares’s “Glossary,” vol. i. p. 309.[134]A “fire-drake” appears to have been also an artificial firework, perhaps what is now called a serpent. Thus, in Middleton’s “Your Five Gallants” (1607):“But, like fire-drakes,Mounted a little, gave a crack and fell.”[135]“New Illustrations of the Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare,” vol. ii. p. 272.[136]See Thoms’s “Notelets on Shakespeare,” p. 59.[137]“Fairy Mythology,” edited by Hazlitt, 1875, p. 40.[138]Among the many other names given to this appearance may be mentioned the following: “Will-a-wisp,” “Joan-in-the-wad,” “Jacket-a-wad,” “Peg-a-lantern,” “Elf-fire,” etc. A correspondent of “Notes and Queries” (5th series, vol. x. p. 499) says: “The wandering meteor of the moss or fell appears to have been personified as Jack, Gill, Joan, Will, or Robin, indifferently, according as the supposed spirit of the lamp seemed to the particular rustic mind to be a male or female apparition.” In Worcestershire it is called “Hob-and-his-lanthorn,” and “Hobany’s” or “Hobnedy’s Lanthorn.”[139]Mr. Ritson says that Milton “is frequently content to pilfer a happy expression from Shakespeare—on this occasion, ‘night-wanderer.’” He elsewhere calls it “the friar’s lantern.”[140]Thorpe, “Northern Mythology,” 1852, vol. iii. pp. 85, 158, 220.[141]“Notelets on Shakespeare,” pp. 64, 65.[142]Ibid.[143]See Proctor’s “Myths of Astronomy;” Chambers’s “Domestic Annals of Scotland,” 1858, vol. ii. pp. 410-412; Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” pp. 364, 365.[144]See Patterson’s “Insects Mentioned by Shakespeare,” 1841, p. 145.[145]“Letters,” vol. i. p. 310; vol. vi. pp. 1, 187.—Ed. Cunningham.[146]Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 369.[147]See Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” vol. i. pp. 364-367.[148]See Swainson’s “Weather-Lore.”[149]Batman upon Bartholomæus—“De Proprietatibus Rerum,” lib. xi. c. 3.[150]Polwhele’s “Cornish Vocabulary.”[151]Cf. “Macbeth,” iii. 4, “O, these flaws and starts.”

[89]Singer’s “Shakespeare,” vol. x. p. 292.

[90]“Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, pp. 255, 256.

[91]Singer’s “Shakespeare,” vol. viii. p. 208.

[92]See Knight’s “Life of Shakespeare,” 1843, p. 63.

[93]“Pop. Antiq.,” 1849, vol. iii. p. 241.

[94]See Swainson’s “Weather-Lore,” 1873, p. 176, for popular adages on the Continent.

[95]“Weather-Lore,” pp. 175, 176.

[96]Napier’s “Folk-Lore of West of Scotland,” 1879, p. 141.

[97]Quoted in Southey’s “Commonplace Book,” 1849, 2d series, p. 462.

[98]See Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” 1871, vol. i. pp. 261, 296, 297, 321.

[99]In “3 Henry VI.” (ii. 1), Edward says:“henceforward will I bearUpon my target three fair shining suns.”

[99]In “3 Henry VI.” (ii. 1), Edward says:

“henceforward will I bearUpon my target three fair shining suns.”

[100]“Glossary to Shakespeare,” p. 283.

[101]Ray gives the Latin equivalent “Ab equis ad asinos.”

[102]Baring-Gould’s “Curious Myths of the Middle Ages,” 1877, p. 190.

[103]Cf. “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (v. 2): “Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.”

[104]Fiske, “Myths and Mythmakers,” 1873, p. 27.

[105]“Curious Myths of the Middle Ages,” 1877, p. 197.

[106]Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 10.

[107]For further information on this subject, see Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” 1873, vol. i. pp. 288, 354-356; vol. ii. pp. 70, 202, 203.

[108]See Brand’s “Pop. Antiq.,” vol. iii. pp. 142, 143.

[109]See “English Folk-lore,” pp. 43, 44.

[110]“Primitive Culture,” 1873, vol. i. pp. 354, 355.

[111]The words “moonish” (“As You Like It,” iii. 2) and “moonlike” (“Love’s Labour’s Lost,” iv. 3) are used in the sense of inconstant.

[112]See Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 18.

[113]Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” vol. i. p. 329.

[114]“Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 16.

[115]See Scot’s “Discovery of Witchcraft,” 1584, pp. 174, 226, 227, 250.

[116]For further examples, see Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” p. 17.

[117]See Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 116.

[118]See Swainson’s “Weather-Lore,” 1873, pp. 182-192.

[119]See Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” 1873, vol. i. p. 130; “English Folk-Lore,” 1878, pp. 41, 42.

[120]See Swainson’s “Weather-Lore,” pp. 182, 183.

[121]See Williams’s “Superstitions of Witchcraft,” pp. 123-125; Scot’s “Discovery of Witchcraft,” bk. iv. p. 145.

[122]“Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 405.

[123]Nares’s “Glossary,” 1872, vol. ii. p. 580.

[124]“Primitive Culture,” vol. i. p. 131.

[125]Cf. “Richard III.” (iv. 4); “1 Henry IV.” (i. 1, iii. 1); “Antony and Cleopatra” (iii. 13); “The Tempest” (i. 2); “Hamlet” (i. 4); “Cymbeline” (v. 4); “Winter’s Tale” (iii. 2); “Richard II.” (iv. 1).

[126]“Primitive Culture,” vol. i. p. 131; see Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” 1849, vol. iii. pp. 341-348.

[127]“Walton’s Lives,” 1796, p. 113, note.

[128]Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 397.

[129]Ibid. p. 3.

[130]See Brand’s “Pop. Antiq.,” 1849, vol. iii. p. 400.

[131]Purchas, “His Pilgrimes” (1625, pt. i. lib. iii. p. 133), quoted by Mr. Aldis Wright in his “Notes to The Tempest,” 1875, p. 86.

[132]SeePuck as Will-o’-the-Wisp; chapter on “Fairy-Lore.”

[133]See “Notes and Queries,” 5th series, vol. x. p. 499; Brand’s “Pop. Antiq.,” 1849, vol. iii. p. 410; Nares’s “Glossary,” vol. i. p. 309.

[134]A “fire-drake” appears to have been also an artificial firework, perhaps what is now called a serpent. Thus, in Middleton’s “Your Five Gallants” (1607):“But, like fire-drakes,Mounted a little, gave a crack and fell.”

[134]A “fire-drake” appears to have been also an artificial firework, perhaps what is now called a serpent. Thus, in Middleton’s “Your Five Gallants” (1607):

“But, like fire-drakes,Mounted a little, gave a crack and fell.”

[135]“New Illustrations of the Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare,” vol. ii. p. 272.

[136]See Thoms’s “Notelets on Shakespeare,” p. 59.

[137]“Fairy Mythology,” edited by Hazlitt, 1875, p. 40.

[138]Among the many other names given to this appearance may be mentioned the following: “Will-a-wisp,” “Joan-in-the-wad,” “Jacket-a-wad,” “Peg-a-lantern,” “Elf-fire,” etc. A correspondent of “Notes and Queries” (5th series, vol. x. p. 499) says: “The wandering meteor of the moss or fell appears to have been personified as Jack, Gill, Joan, Will, or Robin, indifferently, according as the supposed spirit of the lamp seemed to the particular rustic mind to be a male or female apparition.” In Worcestershire it is called “Hob-and-his-lanthorn,” and “Hobany’s” or “Hobnedy’s Lanthorn.”

[139]Mr. Ritson says that Milton “is frequently content to pilfer a happy expression from Shakespeare—on this occasion, ‘night-wanderer.’” He elsewhere calls it “the friar’s lantern.”

[140]Thorpe, “Northern Mythology,” 1852, vol. iii. pp. 85, 158, 220.

[141]“Notelets on Shakespeare,” pp. 64, 65.

[142]Ibid.

[143]See Proctor’s “Myths of Astronomy;” Chambers’s “Domestic Annals of Scotland,” 1858, vol. ii. pp. 410-412; Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” pp. 364, 365.

[144]See Patterson’s “Insects Mentioned by Shakespeare,” 1841, p. 145.

[145]“Letters,” vol. i. p. 310; vol. vi. pp. 1, 187.—Ed. Cunningham.

[146]Douce’s “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” 1839, p. 369.

[147]See Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” vol. i. pp. 364-367.

[148]See Swainson’s “Weather-Lore.”

[149]Batman upon Bartholomæus—“De Proprietatibus Rerum,” lib. xi. c. 3.

[150]Polwhele’s “Cornish Vocabulary.”

[151]Cf. “Macbeth,” iii. 4, “O, these flaws and starts.”

Inthe present chapter we have not only a striking proof of Shakespeare’s minute acquaintance with natural history, but of his remarkable versatility as a writer. While displaying a most extensive knowledge of ornithology, he has further illustrated his subject by alluding to those numerous legends, popular sayings, and superstitions which have, in this and other countries, clustered round the feathered race. Indeed, the following pages are alone sufficient to show, if it were necessary, how fully he appreciated every branch of antiquarian lore; and what a diligent student he must have been in the pursuit of that wide range of information, the possession of which has made him one of the most many-sided writers that the world has ever seen. The numerous incidental allusions, too, by Shakespeare, to the folk-lore of bygone days, while showing how deeply he must have read and gathered knowledge from every available source, serve as an additional proof of his retentive memory, and marvellous power of embellishing his ideas by the most apposite illustrations. Unfortunately, however, these have, hitherto, been frequently lost sight of through the reader’s unacquaintance with that extensive field of folk-lore which was so well known to the poet. For the sake of easy reference, the birds with which the present chapter deals are arranged alphabetically.

Barnacle-Goose.There was a curious notion, very prevalent in former times, that this bird (Anser bernicla) was generated from the barnacle (Lepas anatifera), a shell-fish, growing on a flexible stem, and adhering to loose timber, bottoms of ships, etc., a metamorphosis to which Shakespeare alludes in “The Tempest” (iv. 1), where he makes Caliban say:

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