he alludes to the old superstition, still deeply rooted in the minds of the lower orders, that a clever child never lives long. In Bright’s “Treatise of Melancholy” (1586, p. 52), we read: “I have knowne children languishing of the splene, obstructed and altered in temper, talke with gravity and wisdom surpassing those tender years, and their judgments carrying a marvellous imitation of the wisdome of the ancient, having after a sort attained that by disease, which others have by course of yeares; whereof I take it the proverb ariseth, that ‘they be of shorte life who are of wit so pregnant.’” There are sundry superstitious notions relating to the teething of children prevalent in our own and other countries. In “3 Henry VI.” (v. 6), the Duke of Gloster, alluding to the peculiarities connected with his, birth, relates how

It is still believed, for instance, in many places, that if a child’s first tooth appears in the upper jaw it is an omen of its dying in infancy; and when the teeth come early it is regarded as an indication that there will soon be another baby. In Sussex there is a dislike to throwing away the cast teeth of children, from a notion that, should they be found and gnawed by any animal, the child’s new tooth would be exactly like the animal’s that had bitten the old one. In Durham, when the first teeth come out the cavities must be filled with salt, and each tooth burned, while the following words are repeated:

In the above passage, then, Shakespeare simply makes the Duke of Gloster refer to that extensive folk-lore associated with human birth, showing how careful an observer he was in noticing the whims and oddities of his countrymen.

Again, one of the foremost dangers supposed to hover round the new-born infant was the propensity of witches and fairies to steal the most beautiful and well-favored children, and to leave in their places such as were ugly and stupid. These were usually called “changelings.” Shakespeare alludes to this notion in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (ii. 1), where Puck says:

And further on, in the same scene, Oberon says:

As a fairy is, in each case, the speaker, the changeling in this case denotes the child taken by them. So, too, in the “Winter’s Tale” (iii. 3), in the passage where the Shepherd relates: “it was told me, I should be rich by the fairies; this is some changeling:—open’t.” As the child here found was a beautiful one, the changeling must naturally mean the child stolen by the fairies, especially as the gold left with it is conjectured to be fairy gold. The usual signification, however, of the term changeling is thus marked by Spenser (“Fairy Queen,” I. x. 65).

Occasionally fairies played pranks with new-born children by exchanging them. To this notion King Henry refers (“1 Henry IV.” i. 1) when, speaking of Hotspur compared with his own profligate son, he exclaims:

To induce the fairies to restore the stolen child, it was customary in Ireland either to put the one supposed of being a changeling on a hot shovel, or to torment it in some other way. It seems that, in Denmark, the mother heats the oven, and places the changeling on the peel, pretending to put it in, or whips it severely with a rod, or throws it into the water. In the Western Isles of Scotland idiots are supposed to be the fairies’ changelings, and, in order to regain the lost child, parents have recourse to the following device. They place the changeling on the beach, below high-water mark, when the tide is out, and pay no heed to its screams, believing that the fairies, rather than suffer their offspring to be drowned by the rising water, will convey it away, and restore the child they had stolen. The sign that this has been done is the cessation of the child’s screaming. The most effectual preservative, however, against fairy influence, is supposed to be baptism; and hence, among the superstitious, this rite is performed as soon as possible.

A form of superstition very common in days gone by was the supposed influence of the “Evil eye,” being designated by the terms “o’erlooked,” “forelooked,” or “eye-bitten,” certain persons being thought to possess the power of inflicting injury by merely looking on those whom they wished to harm. Even the new-born child was not exempt from this danger, and various charms were practised to avert it. In the “Merry Wives of Windsor” (v. 5), Pistol says of Falstaff:

This piece of folk-lore may be traced back to the time of the Romans, and, in the late Professor Conington’s translation of the “Satires of Persius,” it is thus spoken of: “Look here! a grandmother or a superstitious aunt has taken baby from his cradle, and is charming his forehead against mischief by the joint action of her middle-finger and her purifying spittle; for she knows right well how to check the evil eye.”[702] Is is again alluded to in the “Merchant of Venice” (iii. 2), where Portia, expressing to Bassanio her feelings of regard, declares:

and in “Titus Andronicus” (ii. 1), Aaron speaks of Tamora as:

This superstition, however, is not yet obsolete, but lingers on in many country places.

We may also compare a similar phrase made use of by Cleopatra (“Antony and Cleopatra,” iii. 7), in answer to Enobarbus:

the word forespeak having anciently had the meaning of charm or bewitch, like forbid in “Macbeth” (i. 3):

Among the numerous customs associated with the birth of a child may be mentioned the practice of giving presents at the announcement of this important event. In “Henry VIII.” (v. 1), on the old lady’s making known to the king the happy tidings of the birth of a princess, he says to Lovell:

The old lady, however, resents what she considers a paltry sum:

It was an ancient custom—one which is not quite out of use—for the sponsors at christenings to offer silver or gilt spoons as a present to the child. These were called “apostle spoons,” because the extremity of the handle was formed into the figure of one or other of the apostles. Such as were opulent and generous gave the whole twelve; those who were moderately rich or liberal escaped at the expense of the four evangelists, or even sometimes contented themselves with presenting one spoon only, which exhibited the figure of any saint, in honor of whom the child received its name. In “Henry VIII.” (v. 2) it is in allusion to this custom that, when Cranmer professes to be unworthy of being a sponsor to the young princess, Shakespeare makes the king reply:

A story is related of Shakespeare promising spoons to one of Ben Jonson’s children, in a collection of anecdotes entitled “Merry Passages and Jests,” compiled by Sir Nicholas L’Estrange (MSS. Harl. 6395): “Shakespeare was godfather to one of Ben Jonson’s children, and after the christ’ning, being in a deepe study, Jonson came to cheere him up, and ask’t him why he was so melancholy. ‘No faith, Ben (sayes he), not I; but I have been considering a great while what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my godchild, and I have resolv’d at last.’ ‘I pr’y thee, what?’ sayes he. ‘I’ faith, Ben, I’le e’en give him a douzen good Latin spoones, and thou shalt translate them.’” “Shakespeare,” says Mr. Thoms,[704] “willing to show his wit, if not his wealth, gave a dozen spoons, not of silver, but of latten, a name formerly used to signify a mixed metal resembling brass, as being the most appropriate gift to the child of a father so learned.” In Middleton’s “Chaste Maid of Cheapside,” 1620:

And Beaumont and Fletcher, in the “Noble Gentleman” (v. 1):

The gossip’s feast, held in honor of those who were associated in the festivities of a christening, was a very ancient English custom, and is frequently mentioned by dramatists of the Elizabethan age. The term gossip or godsip, a Saxon word signifying cognata ex parte dei, or godmother, is well defined by Richard Verstegan, in his “Restitution of Decayed Intelligence.” He says: “Our Christian ancestors, understanding a spiritual affinity to grow between the parents and such as undertooke for the child at baptism, called each other by the name of godsib, which is as much as to say that they were sib together, that is, of kin together through God. And the childe, in like manner, called such his godfathers or godmothers.”

As might be expected, it is often alluded to by Shakespeare. Thus, in the “Comedy of Errors” (v. 1), we read:

And again, in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (ii. 1), the mischievous Puck says:

And, once more, we find Capulet, in “Romeo and Juliet” (iii. 5), saying to the Nurse:

Referring to entertainments at christenings, we find the following in the “Batchelor’s Banquet,” 1603 (attributed to Dekker): “What cost and trouble it will be to have all things fine against the Christening Day; what store of sugar, biskets, comphets, and caraways, marmalet, and marchpane, with all kinds of sweet-suckers and superfluous banqueting stuff, with a hundred other odd and needless trifles, which at that time must fill the pockets of dainty dames,” by which it appears the ladies not only ate what they pleased, but pocketed likewise. Upon this and the falling-off of the custom of giving “apostle spoons” at the christening, we read in “Shipman’s Gossip,” 1666:

Strype tells us that, in 1559, the son of Sir Thomas Chamberlayne was baptized at St. Benet’s Church, Paul’s Wharf, when “the Church was hung with cloth of arras, and after the christening were brought wafers, comfits, and divers banqueting dishes, and hypocras and Muscadine wine, to entertain the guests.”

In “Henry VIII.” (v. 4), the Porter says: “Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?”

A term formerly in use for the name given at baptism was “Christendom,” an allusion to which we find in “All’s Well that Ends Well” (i. 1), where Helena says:

the meaning evidently being, a number of pretty, fond, adopted appellations or Christian names to which blind Cupid stands godfather. The expression is often used for baptism by old writers; and Singer[705] quotes from “King John” (iv. 1):

Steevens observes that, in the Puritanical times, it was usual to christen children with the names of moral and religious virtues—a practice to which allusion seems to be made in “The Tempest” (ii. 1) by Antonio:

So Taylor, the Water-Poet, in his description of a strumpet, says:

In days gone by a “chrisom” or “christom child” was one who had recently been baptized, and died within the month of birth, the term having originated in the “face-cloth, or piece of linen, put upon the head of a child newly baptized.” The word was formed from the chrism, that is, the anointing, which formed a part of baptism before the Reformation. Thus, in “Henry V.” (ii. 3), the hostess, Mrs. Quickly, means “chrisom child” in the following passage, where she speaks of Falstaff’s death: “’A made a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom child.” In a beautiful passage of Bishop Taylor’s “Holy Dying” (chap. i. sec. 2), this custom is thus spoken of: “Every morning creeps out of a dark cloud, leaving behind it an ignorance and silence deep as midnight, and undiscerned as are the phantoms that made a chrisom child to smile.” Referring to the use of the chrisom-cloth in connection with baptism, it appears that, after the usual immersion in water, the priest made a cross on the child’s head with oil, after which the chrisom was put on, the priest asking at the same time the infant’s name, and saying, “Receive this white, pure, and holy vestment, which thou shalt wear before the tribunal of our Lord Jesus Christ, that thou mayest inherit eternal life. Amen.” It was to be worn seven days; but after the Reformation, however, the use of oil was omitted, and the chrisom was worn by the child till the mother’s churching, when it was returned to the church. If the child died before the churching, it was buried in the chrisom, and hence it may be that the child itself was called a chrisom or chrisomer.[706] Thus, it will be seen that Dame Quickly simply compares the manner of Falstaff’s death to that of a young infant. In registers and bills of mortality we find infants alluded to under the term “Chrisoms.” Burn, in his “History of Parish Registers” (1862, p. 127), gives the subjoined entry from a register of Westminster Abbey: “The Princess Ann’s child a chrissome bu. in y^e vault, Oct. 22, 1687.”

In Graunt’s “Bills of Mortality,” cited in Johnson’s Dictionary, we read: “When the convulsions were but were but few, the number of chrisoms and infants was greater.” The “bearing-cloth” was the mantle which generally covered the child when it was carried to the font. It is noticed in the “Winter’s Tale” (iii. 3), by the Shepherd, who, on the discovery of Perdita, says to the Clown: “Here’s a sight for thee: look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire’s child! Look thee here; take up, take up, boy: open’t.” In Stow’s “Chronicle” (1631, p. 1039), we are told that about this time it was not customary “for godfathers and godmothers generally to give plate at the baptisme of children, but only to give ‘christening shirts,’ with little bands and cuffs, wrought either with silk or blue thread. The best of them, for chief persons, were edged with a small lace of black silk and gold, the highest price of which, for great men’s children, was seldom above a noble, and the common sort, two, three, or four, and six shillings a piece.”

CHAPTER XIII.

MARRIAGE.

The style of courtship which prevailed in Shakespeare’s time, and the numerous customs associated with the marriage ceremony, may be accurately drawn from the many allusions interspersed through his plays. From these, it would seem that the mode of love-making was much the same among all classes, often lacking that polish and refined expression which are distinguishing characteristics nowadays. As Mr. Drake remarks,[707] the amatory dialogues of Hamlet, Hotspur, and Henry V. are not more refined than those which occur between Master Fenton and Anne Page, in the “Merry Wives of Windsor,” between Lorenzo and Jessica, in the “Merchant of Venice,” and between Orlando and Rosalind, in “As You Like It.” These last, which may be considered as instances taken from the middle class of life, together with a few drawn from the lower rank of rural manners, such as the courtship of Touchstone and Audrey, and of Silvius and Phœbe, in “As You Like It,” are good illustrations of this subject, although it must be added that, in point of fancy, sentiment, and simplicity, the most pleasing love-scenes in Shakespeare are those of Romeo and Juliet and of Florizel and Perdita.

The ancient ceremony of betrothing seems still to have been in full use in Shakespeare’s day. Indeed, he gives us several interesting passages upon the subject of troth-plight. Thus, in “Measure for Measure” (iii. 1), we learn that the unhappiness of the poor, dejected Mariana was caused by a violation of the troth-plight:

It is evident that Angelo and Mariana were bound by oath; the nuptial was appointed; there was a prescribed time between the contract and the performance of the solemnity of the Church. The lady, however, having lost her dowry, the contract was violated by her “combinate” or affianced husband—the oath, no doubt, having been tendered by a minister of the Church, in the presence of witnesses. In “Twelfth Night” (iv. 3) we have a minute description of such a ceremonial; for, when Olivia is hastily espoused to Sebastian, she says:

This, then, was a private ceremony before a single witness, who would conceal it till the proper period of the public ceremonial. Olivia, fancying that she has thus espoused the page, repeatedly calls him “husband;” and, being rejected, she summons the priest to declare (v. 1):

The priest answers:

Again, in the “Winter’s Tale” (iv. 4), which contains many a perfect picture of real rustic life, it appears that, occasionally, the troth-plight was exchanged without the presence of a priest; but that witnesses were essential to the ceremony:

To the argument of Polixenes, that the father of Florizel ought to know of his proceeding, the young man answers:

And then the father, discovering himself, exclaims:

Here, then, as Mr. Knight remarks,[709] in the publicity of a village festival, the hand of the loved one is solemnly taken by her lover, who breathes his love before the ancient stranger who is accidentally present. The stranger is called to be a witness to the protestation, and so is the neighbor who has come with him. The maiden is called upon by her father to speak, and then the old man adds:

The friends are to bear witness to it:

The impatient lover then again exclaims:

The shepherd takes the hands of the youth and the maiden. Again the lover exclaims:

The ceremony is left incomplete, for the princely father discovers himself with:

It appears, therefore, that espousals before witnesses were considered as constituting a valid marriage, if followed up within a limited time by the marriage of the Church. However much the Reformed Church might have endeavored to abrogate this practice, it was unquestionably the ancient habit of the people.[710] It was derived from the Roman law, and still prevails in the Lutheran Church.

Besides exchanging kisses,[711] accompanied with vows of everlasting affection, and whispering lovers’ reassurances of fidelity, it was customary to interchange rings. In Shakespeare’s plays, however, espousals are made with and without the use of the ring. Thus, in the case of Ferdinand and Miranda, we read of their joining hands only (“Tempest,” iii. 1):

In the passage already quoted from “Twelfth Night” (v. 1) there seems to have been a mutual interchange of rings.

Some, indeed, considered that a betrothal was not complete unless each spouse gave the other a circlet. Lady Anne, in “Richard III.” (i. 2), is made to share in this misconception:

In “Two Gentlemen of Verona” (ii. 2) we read:

A joint, or gimmal, ring was anciently a common token among lovers, an allusion to which is made by Emilia, in “Othello” (iv. 3): “I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring.” Their nature will be best understood by a passage in Dryden’s “Don Sebastian” (1690, act v.):

They were generally made of two or three hoops, so chased and engraved that, when fastened together by a single rivet, the whole three formed one design, the usual device being a hand. When an engagement was contracted, the ring was taken apart, each spouse taking a division, and the third one being presented to the principal witness of the contract.[712] Hence such a ring was known as a “Sponsalium Annulis,” to which Herrick thus refers:

The term is used by the Duke of Anjou, in “1 Henry VI.” (i. 2):

Again, in “Henry V.” (iv. 2), Grandpré tells how,

Most readers of the “Merchant of Venice” remember the mirthful use which Shakespeare makes of lovers’ rings. Portia says (iii. 2), when giving her wealth and self to Bassanio:

The last act, too, gives several particulars about lovers’ rings, which, in Elizabethan England,[713] often had posies engraved on them, and were worn by men on the left hand. Gratiano, for example, says:

Again Bassanio exclaims:

In “Taming of the Shrew” Shakespeare gives numerous allusions to the customs of his day connected with courtship and marriage. Indeed, in the second act (sc. 2) we have a perfect betrothal scene:

Although Katharina is only his spouse, and Baptista not yet his father-in-law, Petruchio, in accordance with fashion, calls her “wife” and him “father.” The spouses of old times used to term one another “husband” and “wife,” for, as they argued, they were as good as husband and wife.

Formerly there was a kind of betrothal or marriage contract prevalent among the low orders called “hand-fasting,” or “hand-festing,” said to have been much in use among the Danes, and which is mentioned by Ray in his “Glossary of Northumbrian Words.” It simply means hand-fastening or binding. In “Cymbeline” (i. 5) the phrase is used in its secondary sense by the Queen, who, speaking of Pisanio, declares that he is

In the “Christian State of Matrimony,” 1543, we find the following illustration of this custom: “Yet in this thing almost must I warn every reasonable and honest person to beware that in the contracting of marriage they dissemble not, nor set forth any lie. Every man, likewise, must esteem the person to whom he is ‘handfasted’ none otherwise than for his own spouse; though as yet it be not done in the church, nor in the street. After the handfasting and making of the contract, the church-going and wedding should not be deferred too long.” The author then goes on to rebuke a custom “that at the handfasting there is made a great feast and superfluous banquet.” Sir John Sinclair, in the “Statistical account of Scotland” (1794, vol. xii. p. 615), tells us that at a fair annually held at Eskdalemuir, Dumfriesshire, “it was the custom for the unmarried persons of both sexes to choose a companion according to their liking, with whom they were to live till that time next year. This was called ‘handfasting,’ or hand-in-fist. If they were pleased with each other at that time then they continued together for life; if not, they separated, and were free to make another choice as at the first.”

Shakespeare has given us numerous illustrations of the marriage customs of our forefathers, many of which are interesting as relics of the past, owing to their having long ago fallen into disuse. The fashion of introducing a bowl of wine into the church at a wedding, which is alluded to in the “Taming of the Shrew” (iii. 2), to be drunk by the bride and bridegroom and persons present, immediately after the marriage ceremony, is very ancient. Gremio relates how Petruchio

It existed even among our Gothic ancestors, and is mentioned in the ordinances of the household of Henry VII., “For the Marriage of a Princess:—‘Then pottes of ipocrice to be ready, and to be put into cupps with soppe, and to be borne to the estates, and to take a soppe and drinke.’” It was also practised at the magnificent marriage of Queen Mary and Philip, in Winchester Cathedral, and at the marriage of the Elector Palatine to the daughter of James I., in 1612-13. Indeed, it appears to have been the practice at most marriages. In Jonson’s “Magnetic Lady” it is called a “knitting cup;” in Middleton’s “No Wit like a Woman’s,” the “contracting cup.” In Robert Armin’s comedy of “The History of the Two Maids of More Clacke,” 1609, the play begins with: