Folk-lore of Shakespeare Part 15

In "A Midsummer-Night's Dream" (ii. 1) t.i.tania says:

"Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger, washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound."

And in "The Winter's Tale" (i. 2) Polixenes commences by saying how:

"Nine changes of the watery star hath been The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne Without a burthen."

We may compare, too, the words of En.o.barbus in "Antony and Cleopatra"

(iv. 9), who, after addressing the moon, says: "The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me." And once more, in "Romeo and Juliet" (i. 4), we read of the "moons.h.i.+ne's watery beams."

The same idea is frequently found in old writers. Thus, for instance, in Newton's "Direction for the Health of Magistrates and Studentes" (1574), we are told that "the moone is ladye of moisture." Bartholomaeus, in "De Proprietate Rerum," describes the moon as "mother of all humours, minister and ladye of the sea."[117] In Lydgate's prologue to his "Story of Thebes" there are two lines not unlike those in "A Midsummer-Night's Dream," already quoted:

"Of Lucina the moone, moist and pale, That many shoure fro heaven made availe."

[117] See Douce's "Ill.u.s.trations of Shakespeare," 1839, p. 116.

Of course, the moon is thus spoken of as governing the tides, and from its supposed influence on the weather.[118] In "1 Henry IV." (i. 2) Falstaff alludes to the sea being governed "by our n.o.ble and chaste mistress, the moon;" and in "Richard III." (ii. 2) Queen Elizabeth says:

"That I, being govern'd by the watery moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world."

[118] See Swainson's "Weather-Lore," 1873, pp. 182-192.

We may compare, too, what Timon says ("Timon of Athens," iv. 3):

"The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears."

The expression of Hecate, in "Macbeth" (iii. 5):

"Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vaporous drop profound,"

seems to have been meant for the same as the _virus lunare_ of the ancients, being a foam which the moon was supposed to shed on particular herbs, when strongly solicited by enchantment. Lucan introduces Erictho using it ("Pharsalia," book vi. 669): "Et virus large lunare ministrat."

By a popular astrological doctrine the moon was supposed to exercise great influence over agricultural operations, and also over many "of the minor concerns of life, such as the gathering of herbs, the killing of animals for the table, and other matters of a like nature." Thus the following pa.s.sage in the "Merchant of Venice" (v. 1), it has been suggested, has reference to the practices of the old herbalists who attributed particular virtues to plants gathered during particular phases of the moon and hours of the night. After Lorenzo has spoken of the moon s.h.i.+ning brightly, Jessica adds:

"In such a night Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs, That did renew old aeson."

And in "Hamlet" (iv. 7) the description which Laertes gives of the weapon-poison refers to the same notion:

"I bought an unction of a mountebank, So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, Collected from all simples that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death."

The sympathy of growing and declining nature with the waxing and waning moon is a superst.i.tion widely spread, and is as firmly believed in by many as when Tusser, in his "Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry,"

under "February" gave the following advice:

"Sow peason and beans in the wane of the moon, Who soweth them sooner, he soweth too soon, That they with the planet may rest and arise, And flourish, with bearing most plentifull wise."

Warburton considers that this notion is alluded to by Shakespeare in "Troilus and Cressida" (iii. 2), where Troilus, speaking of the sincerity of his love, tells Cressida it is,

"As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, as turtle to her mate."

There is a little doubt as to the exact meaning of plantage in this pa.s.sage. Nares observes that it probably means anything that is planted; but Mr. Ellacombe, in his "Plant-lore of Shakespeare" (1878, p. 165), says "it is doubtless the same as plantain."

It appears that, in days gone by, "neither sowing, planting, nor grafting was ever undertaken without a scrupulous attention to the increase or waning of the moon."[119] Scot, in his "Discovery of Witchcraft," notes how "the poore husbandman perceiveth that the increase of the moone maketh plants fruitful, so as in the full moone they are in best strength; decaieing in the wane, and in the conjunction do utterlie wither and vade."

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

It was a prevailing notion that the moon had an attending star-Lilly calls it "Lunisequa;" and Sir Richard Hawkins, in his "Observations in a Voyage to the South Seas in 1593," published in 1622, remarks: "Some I have heard say, and others write, that there is a starre which never separateth itself from the moon, but a small distance." Staunton considers that there is an allusion to this idea in "Love's Labour's Lost" (iv. 3), where the king says:

"My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon: She an attending star, scarce seen a light."

The sharp ends of the new moon are popularly termed horns-a term which occurs in "Coriola.n.u.s" (i. 1)-

"they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon."

It is made use of in Decker's "Match me in London" (i.):

"My lord, doe you see this change i' the moone?

Sharp hornes doe threaten windy weather."

When the horns of the moon appear to point upwards the moon is said to be like a boat, and various weather prognostications are drawn from this phenomenon.[120] According to sailors, it is an omen of fine weather, whereas others affirm it is a sign of rain-resembling a basin full of water about to fall.

[120] See Swainson's "Weather-Lore," pp. 182, 183.

Among other items of folk-lore connected with the moon we may mention the moon-calf, a false conception, or ftus imperfectly formed, in consequence, as was supposed, of the influence of the moon. The best account of this fabulous substance may be found in Drayton's poem with that t.i.tle. Trinculo, in "The Tempest" (ii. 2), supposes Caliban to be a moon-calf: "I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine." It has been suggested that in calling Caliban a moon-calf Shakespeare alluded to a superst.i.tious belief formerly current, in the intercourse of demons and other non-human beings with mankind. In the days of witchcraft, it was supposed that a cla.s.s of devils called Incubi and Succubi roamed the earth with the express purpose of tempting people to abandon their purity of life. Hence, all badly deformed children were suspected of having had such an undesirable parentage.[121]

[121] See Williams's "Superst.i.tions of Witchcraft," pp.

123-125; Scot's "Discovery of Witchcraft," bk. iv. p. 145.

A curious expression, "a sop o' the moons.h.i.+ne," occurs in "King Lear"

(ii. 2), which probably alludes to some dish so called. Kent says to the steward, "Draw, you rogue; for, though it be night, yet the moon s.h.i.+nes; I'll make a sop o' the moons.h.i.+ne of you."

There was a way of dressing eggs, called "eggs in moons.h.i.+ne," of which Douce[122] gives the following description: "Eggs were broken and boiled in salad oil till the yolks became hard. They were eaten with slices of onion fried in oil, b.u.t.ter, verjuice, nutmeg, and salt." "A sop in the moons.h.i.+ne" must have been a sippet in this dish.[123]

[122] "Ill.u.s.trations of Shakespeare," 1839, p. 405.

[123] Nares's "Glossary," 1872, vol. ii. p. 580.

_Planets._ The irregular motion of the planets was supposed to portend some disaster to mankind. Ulysses, in "Troilus and Cressida" (i. 3), declares how:

"when the planets In evil mixture, to disorder wander, What plagues and what portents! what mutiny!

What raging of the sea! shaking of earth!

Commotion in the winds! frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture."

Indeed, the planets themselves were not thought, in days gone by, to be confined in any fixed orbit of their own, but ceaselessly to wander about, as the etymology of their name demonstrates. A popular name for the planets was "wandering stars," of which Cotgrave says, "they bee also called wandering starres, because they never keep one certain place or station in the firmament." Thus Hamlet (v. 1), approaching the grave of Ophelia, addresses Laertes:

"What is he, whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers?"

In Tomkis's "Alb.u.mazar" (i. 1) they are called "wanderers:"