Folk-lore of Shakespeare

And when he abjures the practice of magic, one of the requisites is “to break his staff,” and to (v. 1)

The more immediate instruments of power were books, by means of which spells were usually performed. Hence, in the old romances, the sorcerer is always furnished with a book, by reading certain parts of which he is enabled to summon to his aid what demons or spirits he has occasion to employ. When he is deprived of his book his power ceases. Malone quotes, in illustration of this notion, Caliban’s words in “The Tempest” (iii. 2):

Prospero, too, declares (iii. 1):

And on his relinquishing his art he says that:

Those who practise nocturnal sorcery are styled, in “Troilus and Cressida” (iv. 2), “venomous wights.”

Merlin’s Prophecies. In Shakespeare’s day there was an extensive belief in strange and absurd prophecies, which were eagerly caught up and repeated by one person to another. This form of superstition is alluded to in “1 Henry IV.” (iii. 1), where, after Owen Glendower has been descanting on the “omens and portents dire” which heralded his nativity, and Hotspur’s unbelieving and taunting replies to the chieftain’s assertions, the poet makes Hotspur, on Mortimer’s saying,

thus reply:

In “King Lear” (iii. 2) the Fool says

This witty satire was probably against the prophecies attributed to Merlin, which were then prevalent among the people.[955]

Formerly, too, prophecies of apparent impossibilities were common in Scotland; such as the removal of one place to another. So in “Macbeth” (iv. 1), the apparition says:

Portents and Prodigies. In years gone the belief in supernatural occurrences was a common article of faith; and our ancestors made use of every opportunity to prove the truth of this superstitious belief. The most usual monitions of this kind were, “lamentings heard in the air; shakings and tremblings of the earth; sudden gloom at noon-day; the appearance of meteors; the shooting of stars; eclipses of the sun and moon; the moon of a bloody hue; the shrieking of owls; the croaking of ravens; the shrilling of crickets; night-howlings of dogs; the death-watch; the chattering of pies; wild neighing of horses; blood dropping from the nose; winding-sheets; strange and fearful noises, etc.,” many of which Shakespeare has used, introducing them as the precursors of murder, sudden death, disasters, and superhuman events.[956] Thus in “Richard II.” (ii. 4), the following prodigies are selected as the forerunners of the death or fall of kings:

Previous to the assassination of Julius Cæsar, we are told, in “Hamlet” (i. 1), how:

More appalling still are the circumstances which preceded and accompanied the murder of Duncan (“Macbeth,” ii. 3). We may also compare the omens which marked the births of Owen Glendower and Richard III. Indeed, the supposed sympathy of the elements with human joy or sorrow or suffering is evidently a very ancient superstition; and this presumed sensitiveness, not only of the elements, but of animated nature, to the perpetration of deeds of darkness and blood by perverted nature, has in all ages been extensively believed. It is again beautifully illustrated in the lines where Shakespeare makes Lenox, on the morning following the murder of Duncan by his host (“Macbeth,” ii. 3), give the following narrative:

This idea is further illustrated in the dialogue which follows, between Ross and an old man:

Supernatural Authority of Kings. The belief in the supernatural authority of monarchs is but a remnant of the long-supposed “divine right” of kings to govern, which resulted from a conviction that they could trace their pedigrees back to the deities themselves.[957] Thus Shakespeare even puts into the mouth of the murderer and usurper Claudius, King of Denmark, the following sentence:

This notion is by no means confined to either civilized or semi-civilized nations. It is, says Mr. Hardwick, “a universal feeling among savage tribes.” The ignorant serf of Russia believed, and, indeed, yet believes, that if the deity were to die the emperor would succeed to his power and authority.

Sympathetic Indications. According to a very old tradition the wounds of a murdered person were supposed to bleed afresh at the approach or touch of the murderer. This effect, though impossible, remarks Nares,[958] except it were by miracle, was firmly believed, and almost universally, for a very long period. Poets, therefore, were fully justified in their use of it. Thus Shakespeare, in “Richard III.” (i. 2) makes Lady Anne, speaking of Richard, Duke of Gloster, say:

Stow alludes to this circumstance in his “Annals” (p. 424). He says the king’s body “was brought to St. Paul’s in an open coffin, barefaced, where he bled; thence he was carried to the Blackfriars, and there bled.” Matthew Paris also states that after Henry II.’s death his son Richard came to view the body—“Quo superveniente, confestim erupit sanguis ex naribus regis mortui; ac si indignaretur spiritus in adventue ejus, qui ejusdem mortis causa esse credebatur, ut videretur sanguis clamare ad Deum.”[959] In the “Athenian Oracle” (i. 106), this supposed phenomenon is thus accounted for: “The blood is congealed in the body for two or three days, and then becomes liquid again, in its tendency to corruption. The air being heated by many persons coming about the body, is the same thing to it as motion is. ’Tis observed that dead bodies will bleed in a concourse of people, when murderers are absent, as well as present, yet legislators have thought fit to authorize it, and use this trial as an argument, at least to frighten, though ’tis no conclusive one to condemn them.” Among other allusions to this superstition may be mentioned one by King James in his “Dæmonology,” where we read: “In a secret murder, if the dead carkasse be at any time thereafter handled by the murderer, it will gush out of blood, as if the blood were crying to heaven for revenge of the murderer.” It is spoken of also in a note to chapter v. of the “Fair Maid of Perth,” that this bleeding of a corpse was urged as an evidence of guilt in the High Court of Justiciary at Edinburgh as late as the year 1668. An interesting survival of this curious notion exists in Durham, where, says Mr. Henderson,[960] “touching of the corpse by those who come to look at it is still expected by the poor on the part of those who come to their house while a dead body is lying in it, in token that they wished no ill to the departed, and were in peace and amity with him.”

We may also compare the following passage, where Macbeth (iii. 4), speaking of the Ghost, says:

Shakespeare perhaps alludes to some story in which the stones covering the corpse of a murdered man were said to have moved of themselves, and so revealed the secret. The idea of trees speaking probably refers to the story of the tree which revealed to Æneas the murder of Polydorus (Verg., “Æneid,” iii. 22, 599). Indeed, in days gone by, this superstition was carried to such an extent that we are told, in D’Israeli’s “Curiosities of Literature,” “by the side of the bier, if the slightest change was observable in the eyes, the mouth, feet, or hands of the corpse, the murderer was conjectured to be present, and many an innocent spectator must have suffered death. This practice forms a rich picture in the imagination of our old writers; and their histories and ballads are labored into pathos by dwelling on this phenomenon.”

CHAPTER XXIII.

MISCELLANEOUS CUSTOMS, ETC.

Badge of Poverty. In the reign of William III., those who received parish relief had to wear a badge. It was the letter P, with the initial of the parish to which they belonged, in red or blue cloth, on the shoulder of the right sleeve. In “2 Henry VI.” (v. 1) Clifford says:

Bedfellow. A proof of the simplicity of manners in olden times is evidenced by the fact that it was customary for men, even of the highest rank, to sleep together. In “Henry V.” (ii. 2) Exeter says:

“This unseemly custom,” says Malone, “continued common till the middle of the last century, if not later.” Beaumont and Fletcher, in the “Coxcomb” (i. 1), thus refer to it:

In the same way, letters from noblemen to each other often began with the appellation bedfellow.[961]

Curfew Bell, which is generally supposed to be of Norman origin, is still rung in some of our old country villages, although it has long lost its significance. It seems to have been as important to ghosts as to living men, it being their signal for walking, a license which apparently lasted till the first cock. Fairies, too, and other spirits, were under the same regulations; and hence Prospero, in “The Tempest” (v. 1), says of his elves that they

In “King Lear” (iii. 4) we find the fiend Flibbertigibbet obeying the same rule, for Edgar says: “This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet; he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock.”

In “Measure for Measure” (iv. 2) we find another allusion:

And, once more, in “Romeo and Juliet” (iv. 4), Capulet says:

Sacring Bell. This was a bell which rang for processions and other holy ceremonies.[963] It is mentioned in “Henry VIII.” (iii. 2), by the Earl of Surrey:

It is rung in the Romish Church to give notice that the “Host” is approaching, and is now called “Sanctus bell,” from the words “Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth,” pronounced by the priest.

On the graphic passage where Macbeth (ii. 1) says:

Malone has this note: “Thus Raleigh, speaking of love, in England’s ‘Helicon’ (1600):

Sauncing being probably a mistake for sacring or saint’s bell, originally, perhaps, written “saintis bell.” In “Hudibras” we find:

Carpet-knights. These were knights dubbed at court by mere favor, and not on the field of battle, for their military exploits. In “Twelfth Night” (iii. 4), Sir Toby defines one of them thus: “He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier, and on carpet consideration.”

A “trencher knight” was probably synonymous, as in “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (v. 2):

These carpet-knights were sometimes called “knights of the green cloth.”[964]

Chair Days. Days of old age and infirmity. So, in “2 Henry VI.” (v. 2), young Clifford, on seeing his dead father, says:

Chivalry. The expression “sworn brothers,” which Shakespeare several times employs, refers to the “fratres jurati,” who, in the days of chivalry, mutually bound themselves by oath to share each other’s fortune. Thus, Falstaff says of Shallow, in “2 Henry IV.” (iii. 2): “He talks as familiarly of John o’ Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him.” In “Henry V.” (ii. 1), Bardolph says: “we’ll be all three sworn brothers to France.” In course of time it was used in a laxer sense, to denote intimacy, as in “Much Ado About Nothing” (i. 1), where Beatrice says of Benedick, that “He hath every month a new sworn brother.”[965]

According to the laws of chivalry, a person of superior birth might not be challenged by an inferior; or, if challenged, might refuse combat, a reference to which seems to be made by Cleopatra (“Antony and Cleopatra,” ii. 4):

Again, in “Troilus and Cressida” (v. 4), the same practice is alluded to by Hector, who asks Thersites:

Singer quotes from “Melville’s Memoirs” (1735, p. 165): “The Laird of Grange offered to fight Bothwell, who answered that he was not his equal. The like answer made he to Tullibardine. Then my Lord Lindsay offered to fight him, which he could not well refuse; but his heart failed him, and he grew cold on the business.”

Clubs. According to Malone, it was once a common custom, on the breaking-out of a fray, to call out “Clubs, clubs!” to part the combatants. Thus, in “1 Henry VI.” (i. 3), the Mayor declares:

In “Titus Andronicus” (ii. 1), Aaron says:

“Clubs,” too, “was originally the popular cry to call forth the London apprentices, who employed their clubs for the preservation of the public peace. Sometimes, however, they used those weapons to raise a disturbance, as they are described doing in the following passage in ‘Henry VIII.’ (v. 4): ‘I miss’d the meteor once, and hit that woman; who cried out ‘Clubs!’ when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o’ the Strand, where she was quartered.’”[966]

Color-Lore. Green eyes have been praised by poets of nearly every land,[967] and, according to Armado, in “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (i. 2), “Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers.”

In “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (v. 1), Thisbe laments:

The Nurse, in her description of Romeo’s rival (“Romeo and Juliet,” iii. 5), says:

In the “Two Noble Kinsmen” (v. 1), Emilia, praying to Diana, says:

The words of Armado have been variously explained as alluding to green eyes—Spanish writers being peculiarly enthusiastic in this praise—to the willow worn by unsuccessful lovers, and to their melancholy.[968] It has also been suggested[969] that, as green is the color most suggestive of freshness and spring-time, it may have been considered the most appropriate lover’s badge. At the same time, however, it is curious that, as green has been regarded as an ominous color, it should be connected with lovers, for, as an old couplet remarks:

In “Merchant of Venice” (iii. 2), “green-eyed jealousy,” and in “Othello” (iii. 3), its equivalent, “green-eyed monster,” are expressions used by Shakespeare.

Yellow is an epithet often, too, applied to jealousy, by the old writers. In the “Merry Wives of Windsor” (i. 3), Nym says he will possess Ford “with yellowness.” In “Much Ado About Nothing” (ii. 1) Beatrice describes the Count as “civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.” In “Twelfth Night” (ii. 4), Viola tells the Duke how her father’s daughter loved a man, but never told her love:

Dinner Customs. In days gone by there was but one salt-cellar on the table, which was a large piece of plate, generally much ornamented. The tables being long, the salt was commonly placed about the middle, and served as a kind of boundary to the different quality of the guests invited. Those of distinction were ranked above; the space below being assigned to the dependants, inferior relations of the master of the house, etc.[971] Shakespeare would seem to allude to this custom in the “Winter’s Tale” (i. 2), where Leontes says:

Upon which passage Steevens adds, “Leontes comprehends inferiority of understanding in the idea of inferiority of rank.” Ben Jonson, speaking of the characteristics of an insolent coxcomb, remarks: “His fashion is not to take knowledge of him that is beneath him in clothes. He never drinks below the salt.”

Ordinary. This was a public dinner, where each paid his share, an allusion to which custom is made by Enobarbus, in “Antony and Cleopatra” (ii. 2), who, speaking of Antony, says:

Again, in “All’s Well that Ends Well” (ii. 3), Lafeu says: “I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel.”

The “ordinary” also denoted the lounging-place of the men of the town, and the fantastic gallants who herded together. They were, says the author of “Curiosities of Literature” (vol. iii. p. 82), “the exchange for news, the echoing-places for all sorts of town talk; there they might hear of the last new play and poem, and the last fresh widow sighing for some knight to make her a lady; these resorts were attended also to save charges of housekeeping.”

Drinking Customs. Shakespeare has given several allusions to the old customs associated with drinking, which have always varied in different countries. At the present day many of the drinking customs still observed are very curious, especially those kept up at the universities and inns-of-court.

Alms-drink was a phrase in use, says Warburton, among good fellows, to signify that liquor of another’s share which his companion drank to ease him. So, in “Antony and Cleopatra” (ii. 7) one of the servants says of Lepidus: “They have made him drink alms-drink.”

By-drinkings. This was a phrase for drinkings between meals, and is used by the Hostess in “1 Henry IV.” (iii. 3), who says to Falstaff: “You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings.”

Hooped Pots. In olden times drinking-pots were made with hoops, so that, when two or more drank from the same tankard, no one should drink more than his share. There were generally three hoops to the pots: hence, in “2 Henry VI.” (iv. 2), Cade says: “The three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops.” In Nash’s “Pierce Pennilesse” we read: “I believe hoopes on quart pots were invented that every man should take his hoope, and no more.”

The phrases “to do a man right” and “to do him reason” were, in years gone by, the common expressions in pledging healths; he who drank a bumper expected that a bumper should be drunk to his toast. To this practice alludes the scrap of a song which Silence sings in “2 Henry IV.” (v. 3):

He who drank, too, a bumper on his knee to the health of his mistress was dubbed a knight for the evening. The word Samingo is either a corruption of, or an intended blunder for, San Domingo, but why this saint should be the patron of topers is uncertain.

Rouse. According to Gifford,[972] a rouse was a large glass in which a health was given, the drinking of which, by the rest of the company, formed a carouse. Hamlet (i. 4) says:

The word occurs again in the following act (1), where Polonius uses the phrase “o’ertook in’s rouse;” and in the sense of a bumper, or glass of liquor, in “Othello” (ii. 3), “they have given me a rouse already.”

Sheer Ale. This term, which is used in the “Taming of the Shrew” (Induction, sc. 2), by Sly—“Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale”—according to some expositors, means “ale alone, nothing but ale,” rather than “unmixed ale.”

Sneak-cup. This phrase, which is used by Falstaff in “1 Henry IV.” (iii. 3)—“the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup”—was used to denote one who balked his glass.

Earnest Money. It was, in olden times, customary to ratify an agreement by a bent coin. In “Henry VIII.” (ii. 3), the old lady remarks:

There were, however, no threepences so early as the reign of Henry VIII.

Exclamations. “Charity, for the Lord’s sake!” was the form of ejaculatory supplication used by imprisoned debtors to the passers-by. So, in Davies’s “Epigrams” (1611):

In “Measure for Measure” (iv. 3), the phrase is alluded to by Pompey: “all great doers in our trade, and are now ‘for the Lord’s sake.’”

“Cry Budget.” A watchword. Thus Slender says to Shallow, in the “Merry Wives of Windsor” (v. 2); “We have a nay-word, how to know one another: I come to her in white, and cry ‘mum;’ she cries ‘budget;’ and by that we know one another.”

“God save the mark.” “Romeo and Juliet” (iii. 2). This exclamation has hitherto baffled the research of every commentator. It occurs again in “1 Henry IV.” (i. 3); and in the “Merchant of Venice” (ii. 2) and in “Othello” (i. 1), we have “God bless the mark.” In the quarto, 1597, instead of “God save the mark” in the first passage quoted, we have “God save the sample,” an expression equally obscure.[973]

Halidom. This exclamation was used, says Minsheu,[974] by old countrymen, by manner of swearing. In “Two Gentlemen of Verona” (iv. 2), the Hostess says: “By my halidom, I was fast asleep;” the probable derivation being holy, with the termination dome.

Hall! Hall! An exclamation formerly used, to make a clear space in a crowd, for any particular purpose, was “A hall, a hall.” So, in “Romeo and Juliet” (i. 5), Capulet says:

Hay. This is equivalent to “you have it,” an exclamation in fencing, when a thrust or hit is received by the antagonist. In “Romeo and Juliet” (ii. 4), Mercutio speaks of “the punto reverso! the hay!”

Hold. To cry hold! when persons were fighting, was an authoritative way of separating them, according to the old military law. So Macbeth, in his struggle with Macduff, says: