Of Mexico, Brinton says: "Very different is another aspect of the
moon-goddess, and well might the Mexicans paint her with two
colours. The beneficent dispenser of harvests and offspring, she
nevertheless has a portentous and terrific phase. She is also the
goddess of the night, the dampness, and the cold; she engenders the
miasmatic poisons that rack our bones; she conceals in her mantle
the foe who takes us unawares; she rules those vague shapes which
fright us in the dim light; the causeless sounds of night or its more
oppressive silence are familiar to her; she it is who sends dreams
wherein gods and devils have their sport with man, and slumber, the
twin brother of the grave." [377] So farther south, "the Brazilian
mother carefully shielded her infant from the lunar rays, believing
that they would produce sickness; the hunting tribes of our own
country will not sleep in its light, nor leave their game exposed to
its action. We ourselves have not outgrown such words as lunatic,
moon-struck, and the like. Where did we get these ideas? The
philosophical historian of medicine, Kurt Sprengel, traces them to
the primitive and popular medical theories of ancient Egypt, in
accordance with which all maladies were the effects of the anger of
the goddess Isis, the moisture, the moon." [378] Perhaps Dr.
Brinton's own Mexican myth is a better elucidation of this origin of
nocturnal evil than that which traces it to Egypt. According to an
ancient tradition in Mexico, "it is said that in the absence of the sun
all mankind lingered in darkness. Nothing but a human sacrifice
could hasten his arrival. Then Metzli, the moon, led forth one
Nanahuatl, the leprous, and building a pyre, the victim threw
himself in its midst. Straightway Metzli followed his example, and
as she disappeared in the bright flames, the sun rose over the
horizon. Is not this a reference to the kindling rays of the aurora, in
which the dark and baleful night is sacrificed, and in whose light the
moon presently fades away, and the sun comes forth?" [379] We
venture to think that it is, and that it is nearest to a natural
explanation of purely natural effects.
Coming next to Britain, we find that "no prejudice has been more
firmly rivetted than the influence of the moon over the human
frame, originating perhaps in some superstition more ancient than
recorded by the earliest history. The frequent intercourse of
Scotland with the north may have conspired to disseminate or renew
the veneration of a luminary so highly venerated there, in
counteracting the more southern ecclesiastical ordinances." [380]
Forbes Leslie surely goes too far, and mixes matters up too much,
when he writes: "An ancient belief, adhered to by the ignorant after
being denounced and apparently disproved by the learned, is now
admitted to be a fact; viz. the influence of the moon in certain
diseases. This, from various circumstances, is more apparent in
some of the Asiatic countries, and may have given rise to the
custom which extended into Britain, of exposing sick children on
the housetops." [381] We know that the _solar_ rays, from the time
of Hippocrates, the reputed "father of medicine," were believed by
the Greeks to prolong life; and that the Romans built terraces on the
tops of their houses called _solaria_, where they enjoyed their solar
baths. "Levato sole levatur morbus," was one of their medical
axioms. But who ever heard of the _lunar_ rays as beneficial? If
sick children were exposed on the housetops, it must have been in
the daytime; and, unless it were intended as an alterative, it is
difficult to see what connection this had with the belief that disease
was the product of the lunar beam. Besides, is the moon's influence
in disease an admitted fact? The "certain diseases" should be
specified, and their lunar origin sustained.
The following strange superstition is singularly like that interpolated
legend in the Gospel of John, about the angel troubling the pool of
Bethesda. In this case the medicinal virtue seems to come with the
change of the moon. But in both cases supernatural agency is
equally mythical. "A cave in the neighbourhood of Dunskey ought
also to be mentioned, on account of the great veneration in which it
is held by the people. At the change of the moon (which is still
considered with superstitious reverence), it is usual to bring, even
from a great distance, infirm persons, and particularly ricketty
children, whom they often suppose bewitched, to bathe in a stream
which pours from the hill, and then dry them in the cave." [382]
Those who are in danger of apoplexy, or other cerebral disease,
through indulgence too freely in various liquids, vinous and
spirituous, should cherish Bacon's sapient deliverance: "It is like
that the brain of man waxeth moister and fuller upon the full of the
moon; and therefore it were good for those that have moist brains,
and are great drinkers, to take sume of _lignum aloes_, rosemary,
frankincense, etc., about the full of the moon. It is like, also, that the
humours in men's bodies increase and decrease as the moon doth;
and therefore it were good to purge some day or two after the full;
for that then the humours will not replenish so soon again." [383]
All this sounds so unphilosophical that it is almost incredible that
the learned Bacon believed what he wrote. Darker superstitions,
however, still linger in our land. "In Staffordshire, it is commonly
said, if you want to cure chin-cough, take out the child and let it
look at the new moon; lift up its clothes and rub your right hand up
and down its stomach, and repeat the following lines (looking
steadfastly at the moon, and rubbing at the same time):--
'What I see, may it increase;
What I feel, may it decrease;
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.'" [384]
There is a little ambiguity here. What is felt is the child's stomach.
But the desire is not that that may decrease, but only the whooping
cough, which is _felt_, we take it, by proxy. A lady, writing of the
southern county of Sussex, says: "A superstition lingering amongst
us, worthy of the days of paganism, is that the new May moon,
aided by certain charms, has the power of curing scrofulous
complaints." [385]
As the cutting of hair, finger-nails, and corns has some relation to
health and comfort, we may here mention that in Devonshire it is
said that hair and nails should always be cut in the waning of the
moon, thereby beneficial consequences will result. If corns are cut
after the full moon, some say that they will gradually disappear. In
the _British Apollo_ we have the following request for advice:
"Pray tell your querist if he may
Rely on what the vulgar say,
That when the moon's in her increase,
If corns be cut they'll grow apace
But if you always do take care
After the full your corns to pare,
They do insensibly decay
And will in time wear quite away.
If this be true, pray let me know,
And give the reason why 'tis so." [386]
The following passage is worth quoting, without any abbreviation,
as an excellent summary of wisdom and sense regarding the moon's
influence on health: "There is much reason for regarding the moon
as a source of evil, yet not that she herself is so, but only the
circumstances which attend her. With us it happens that a bright
moonlight night is always a cold one. The absence of cloud allows
the earth to radiate its heat into space, and the air gradually cools,
until the moisture it contained is precipitated in the form of dew,
and lies like a thick blanket on the ground to prevent a further
cooling. When the quantity of moisture in the air is small, the
refrigerating process continues until frost is produced, and many a
moonlight night in spring destroys half or even the whole of the
fruit of a new season. Moonlight, therefore, frequently involves the
idea of frigidity. With us, whose climate is comparatively cold, the
change from the burning, blasting, or blighting heat of day, or
sun-up, to the cold of a clear night, or sun-down, is not very great, but
within the tropics the change is enormous. To such sudden
vicissitudes in temperature, an Indian doctor, in whom I have great
confidence, attributes fevers and agues. As it is clear that those
persons only, whose business or pleasure obliges them to be out on
cloudless nights, suffer from the severe cold produced by the rapid
radiation into space of the heat of their own bodies and that of the
earth, those who remain at home are not likely to suffer from the
effects of the sudden and continued chill. Still further, it is clear that
people in general will not care to go out during the darkness of a
moonless night, unless obliged to do so. Consequently few persons
have experience of the deleterious influence of starlight nights. But
when a bright moon and a hot, close house induce the people to turn
out and enjoy the coldness and clearness of night, it is very probable
that refrigeration may be followed by severe bodily disease.
Amongst such a people, the moon would rather be anathematised
than adored. One may enjoy half an hour, or perhaps an hour, of
moonlight, and yet be blighted or otherwise injured by a whole
night of it." [387] In Denmark a superstition is current concerning
the noxious influences of night. The Danes have a kind of elves
which they call the "Moon Folk." "The man is like an old man with
a low-crowned hat upon his head; the woman is very beautiful in
front, but behind she is hollow, like a dough-trough, and she has a
sort of harp on which she plays, and lures young men with it, and
then kills them. The man is also an evil being, for if any one comes
near him he opens his mouth and breathes upon them, and his breath
causes sickness. It is easy to see what this tradition means: it is the
damp marsh wind, laden with foul and dangerous odours; and the
woman's harp is the wind playing across the marsh rushes at
nightfall." [388] It is the Queen of the Fairies in the
_Midsummer-Night's Dream_ who says to the Fairy King,--
These are the forgeries of jealousy
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
No night is now with hymn or carol blest:
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
That rheumatic diseases do abound
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension
We are their parents and original.
It will be thought rashly iconoclastic if we cast the least doubt upon
the idea that blindness is caused directly by the light of the moon.
So many cases have been adduced that it is considered a settled
point. We, however, dare to dispute some of the evidence. For
instance "A poor man born in the village _Rowdil_, commonly
called St. Clement's, blind, lost his sight at every change of the
moon, which obliged him to keep his bed for a day or two, and then
he recovered his sight." [389] If logic would enable us to prove a
negative to this statement, we would meet it with simple denial. But
we have no hesitation in saying that an investigation into this case
would have exonerated the moon of any share in the affliction, and
have revealed some other and likely cause. Our chief objection to
this story is its element of periodicity; and we would require
overwhelming testimony to establish even the probability of such a
miracle once a month. That permanent injury may accrue to those
whose sleeping eyes are exposed all night to the brightness of a full
moon is probable enough. But this would take place not because the
moon's beams were peculiarly baneful, but because any strong light
would have a hurtful effect upon the eyes when fixed for hours in
the condition of sleep.
We can quite believe that in a dry atmosphere like that of Egypt,
where ophthalmia is very prevalent on account of constant irritation
from the fine sand in the air, the eye, weary with the heat and aridity
of the day, would be impaired if uncovered in the air to the rays of
the moon. Carne's statements are consequently quite credible. He
tells us: "The effect of the moonlight on the eyes in this country is
singularly injurious; the natives tell you, as I found they also
afterwards did in Arabia, always to cover your eyes when you sleep
in the open air. The moon here really strikes and affects the sight,
when you sleep exposed to it, much more than the sun; indeed, the
sight of a person who should sleep with his face exposed at night,
would soon be utterly impaired or destroyed." [390] For the same
reason, that strong light oppresses the slumbering eye, "the seaman
in his hammock takes care not to face the full moon, lest he be
struck with blindness." [391] Nor can we regard the following as
"an _extraordinary_ effect of moonlight upon the human subject." In
1863, "a boy, thirteen years of age, residing near Peckham Rye, was
expelled his home by his mother for disobedience. He ran away to a
cornfield close by, and, on lying down in the open air, fell asleep.
He slept throughout the night, which was a moonlight one. Some
labourers on their way to work, next morning, seeing the boy
apparently asleep, aroused him; the lad opened his eyes, but
declared he could not see. He was conveyed home, and medical
advice was obtained; the surgeon affirmed that the total loss of sight
resulted from sleeping in the moonlight." [392] This was sad
enough; but it was antecedently probable. No doubt a boy of
thirteen who for disobedience was cast out of home in such a place
as London had a hard lot, and went supperless to his open bed. His
optic nerves were young and sensitive, and the protracted light so
paralysed them that the morning found them closed "in endless
night." This was a purely natural result: to admitting it, reason
opposes no demur. But we must object, for truth's sake, to the
tendency to account for natural consequences by assigning
supernatural causes. The moon is no divinity; moonlight is no
Divine emanation, with a vindictive animus; and those who
countenance such silly superstition as that moonstroke is a
mysterious, evil agency, are contributing to a polytheism which
leads to atheism: for many gods logically means no GOD at all.
Another branch of this umbrageous if not fructuous tree of lunar
superstition is the moon's influence on human fortune. Butler
satirizes the visionary who--
"With the moon was more familiar
Than e'er was almanac well-willer (compiler);
Her secrets understood so clear
That some believed he had been there;
Knew when she was in fittest mood
For cutting corns, or letting blood:
Whether the wane be, or increase,
Best to set garlick, or sow pease:
Who first found out the man i' th' moon,
That to the ancients was unknown."--_Hudibras_.
A Swiss theologian amusingly describes the superstitious person
who reads his fortune in the stars. He, it is said, "will be more afraid
of the constellation fires than the flames of his next neighbour's
house. He will not open a vein till he has asked leave of the planets.
He will not commit his seed to the earth when the soil, but when the
moon, requires it. He will have his hair cut when the moon is either
in _Leo_, that his locks may stare like the lion's shag, or in _Aries_,
that they may curl like a ram's horn. Whatever he would have to
grow, he sets about when she is in her increase; but for what he
would have made less, he chuses her wane. When the moon is in
_Taurus_, he never can be persuaded to take physic, lest that animal
which chews its cud should make him cast it up again. He will avoid
the sea whenever _Mars_ is in the midst of heaven, lest that warrior-god
should stir up pirates against him. In _Taurus_ he will plant his
trees, that this sign, which the astrologers are pleased to call
_fixed_, may fasten them deep in the earth. If at any time he has a
mind to be admitted into the presence of a prince, he will wait till
the moon is in conjunction with the sun; for 'tis then the society of
an inferior with a superior is salutary and successful." [393]
The _new moon_ is considered pre-eminently auspicious for
commencements,--for all kinds of building up, and beginning _de
novo_. Houses are to be erected and moved into; marriages are to be
concluded, money counted, hair and nails cut, healing herbs and
pure dew gathered, all at the new moon. Money counted at that
period will be increased. The _full moon_ is the time for pulling
down, and thinking of the end of all things. Cut your timber, mow
your grass, make your hay, not while the sun shines, but while the
moon wanes; also stuff your feather-bed then, and so kill the newly
plucked feathers completely, and bring them to rest. Wash your
linen, too, by the waning moon, that the dirt may disappear with the
dwindling light. [394] According to one old notion it was deemed
unlucky to assume a new dress when the moon was in her decline.
So says the Earl of Northampton: "They forbidde us when the
moone is in a fixed signe, to put on a newe garment. Why so?
Because it is lyke that it wyll be too longe in wearing, a small fault
about this towne, where garments seldome last till they be payd for.
But thyr meaning is, that the garment shall continue long, not in
respect of any strength or goodness in the stuffe, but by the durance
or disease of him that hath neyther leysure nor liberty to weare it."
[395] It is well known that the ancient Hebrews held the new moon
in religious reverence. The trumpets were blown, solemn sacrifices
were offered and festivals held; and the first clay of the lunar month
was always holy. In a Talmudic compilation, to which Dr. Farrar
has contributed a preface, we find an interesting account of the
_Blessing the new moon_. "It is a very pious act to bless the moon
at the close of the Sabbath, when one is dressed in his best attire and
perfumed. If the blessing is to be performed on the evening of an
ordinary week-day, the best dress is to be worn. According to the
Kabbalists the blessings upon the moon are not to be said till seven
full days after her birth, but, according to later authorities, this may
be done after three days. The reason for not performing this monthly
service under a roof, but in the open air, is because it is considered
as the reception of the presence of the Shekinah, and it would not be
respectful so to do anywhere but in the open air. It depends very
much upon circumstances when and where the new moon is to be
consecrated, and also upon one's own predisposition, for authorities
differ. We will close these remarks with the conclusion of the Kitzur
Sh'lu on the subject, which, at p. 72, col. 2, runs thus:
"When about to sanctify the new moon, one should straighten his
feet (as at the Shemonah-esreh) and give one glance at the moon
before he begins to repeat the ritual blessing, and having
commenced it he should not look at her at all. Thus should he begin
--'In the united name of the Holy and Blessed One' and His
Shekinah, through that Hidden and Consecrated One! and in the
name of all Israel!' Then he is to proceed with the 'Form of Prayer
for the New Moon,' word for word, with out haste, but with solemn
deliberation, and when he repeats--
'Blessed is thy Former, Blessed is thy Maker,
Blessed is thy Possessor, Blessed is thy Creator,'
he is to meditate on the initials of the four Divine epithets, which
form 'Jacob'; for the moon, which is called 'the lesser light,' is his
emblem or symbol, and he is also called 'little' (see Amos vii. 2).
This he is to repeat three times. He is to skip three times while
repeating thrice the following sentence, and after repeating three
times forwards and backwards: thus (_forwards_)--'Fear and dread
shall fall upon them by the greatness of thine arm; they shall be as
still as a stone'; thus (_backwards_)--'Still as a stone may they be;
by the greatness of thine arm may fear and dread fall on them'; he
then is to say to his neighbour three times, 'Peace be unto you,' and
the neighbour is to respond three times, 'Unto you be peace.' Then
he is to say three times (very loudly), 'David, the King of Israel,
liveth and existeth!' and finally, he is to say three times, 'May a
good omen and good luck be upon us and upon all Israel! Amen!'"
[396a]
That the ancient Germans held the moon in similar regard we know
from Caesar, who, having inquired why Ariovistus did not come to
an engagement, discovered this to be the reason: "that among the
Germans it was the custom for their matrons to pronounce from lots
and divination, whether it were expedient that the battle should be
engaged in or not; that they had said, 'that it was not the will of
heaven that the Germans should conquer, if they engaged in battle
before the new moon.'" [396b]
Halliwell has reproduced an illustration of British superstition of the
same sort. "A very singular divination practised at the period of the
harvest moon is thus described in an old chap-book. When you go to
bed, place under your pillow a prayer-book open at the part of the
matrimonial service 'with this ring I thee wed'; place on it a key, a
ring, a flower, and a sprig of willow, a small heart-cake, a crust of
bread, and the following cards:--the ten of clubs, nine of hearts, ace
of spades, and the ace of diamonds. Wrap all these in a thin
handkerchief of gauze or muslin, and on getting into bed, cross your
hands, and say:--
'Luna, every woman's friend,
To me thy goodness condescend
Let me this night in vision see
Emblems of my destiny.'
If you dream of storms, trouble will betide you; if the storm ends in
a fine calm, so will your fate; if of a ring or the ace of diamonds,
marriage; bread, an industrious life; cake, a prosperous life; flowers,
joy; willow, treachery in love; spades, death; diamonds, money;
clubs, a foreign land; hearts, illegitimate children; keys, that you
will rise to great trust and power, and never know want; birds, that
you will have many children; and geese, that you will marry more
than once." [397] Such ridiculous absurdities would be rejected as
apocryphal if young ladies were not still in the habit of placing bits
of wedding cake under their pillows in the hope that their dreaming
eyes may be enchanted with blissful visions of their future lords.
Hone tells us that in Berkshire, "at the first appearance of a new
moon, maidens go into the fields, and, while they look at it, say:--
'New moon, new moon, I hail thee!
By all the virtue in thy body.
Grant this night that I may see
He who my true love is to be.'
Then they return home, firmly believing that before morning their
future husbands will appear to them in their dreams." [398]
In Devonshire also "it is customary for young people, as soon as
they see the first new moon after midsummer, to go to a stile, turn
their back to it, and say:--
'All hail, new moon, all hail to thee!
I prithe, good moon, reveal to me
This night who shall my true love be
Who is he, and what he wears,
And what he does all months and years.'" [399]
Aubrey says the same of the Scotch of his day, and the custom is not
yet extinct. "In Scotland (especially among the Highlanders) the
women doe make a curtsey to the new moon; I have known one in
England doe it, and our English woemen in the country doe retain
(some of them) a touch of this gentilisme still, _e.g._:--
'All haile to thee, moon, all haile to thee
I prithe, good moon, declare to me,
This night, who my husband must be.'
This they doe sitting astride on a gate or stile the first evening the
new moon appears. In Herefordshire, etc., the vulgar people at the
prime of the moon say, ''Tis a fine moon, God bless her.'" [400] "In
Ireland, at the new moon, it is not an uncommon practice for people
to point with a knife, and after invoking the Holy Trinity, to say:--
'New moon, true morrow, be true now to me,
That I ere the morrow my true love may see.'
The knife is then placed under the pillow, and silence strictly
observed, lest the charm should be broken." [401]
Dr. Charles Mackay quotes from Mother Bridget's _Dream and
Omen Book_ the following prescription for ascertaining the events
of futurity. "_First new moon of the year_. On the first new moon in
the year take a pint of clear spring water, and infuse into it the
_white_ of an egg laid by a _white_ hen, a glass of _white_ wine,
three almonds peeled _white_, and a tablespoonful of _white_
rose-water. Drink this on going to bed, not making more nor less than
three draughts of it; repeating the following verses three several
times in a clear distinct voice, but not so loud as to be overheard by
anybody:--
'If I dream of water pure
Before the coming morn,
'Tis a sign I shall be poor,
And unto wealth not born.
If I dream of tasting beer,
Middling, then, will be my cheer--
Chequered with the good and bad,
Sometimes joyful, sometimes sad;
But should I dream of drinking wine,
Wealth and pleasure will be mine.
The stronger the drink, the better the cheer--
Dreams of my destiny, appear, appear!'" [402]
The day of the week on which the moon is new or full, is a question
that awakens the most anxious concern. In the north of Italy
Wednesday is dreaded for a lunar change, and in the south of France
the inauspicious day is Friday. [403] In most of our own rural
districts Friday's new moon is much disliked
"Friday's moon,
Come when it wool,
It comes too soon."
Saturday is unlucky for the _new_, and Sunday for the _full_ moon.
In Norfolk it is said:--
"Saturday's new and Sunday's full,
Never was good, and never wull."
An apparently older version of the same weather-saw runs:--
"A Saturday's change, and a Sunday's prime,
Was nivver a good mune in nea man's time."
In Worcestershire, a cottager near Berrow Hill told Mr. Edwin Lees,
F.L.S., that as the new moon had fallen on a Saturday, there would
follow twenty-one days of wind or rain; for
"If the moon on a Saturday be new or full,
There always _was_ rain, and there always _wuell_."
One rustic rhyme rehearsed in some places is:--
"A Saturday moon,
If it comes once in seven years,
Comes once too soon."