SUNDRY SUPERSTITIONS.
_Almanacs._ In Shakespeare's day these were published under this title:
"An Almanack and Prognostication made for the year of our Lord God,
1595." So, in the "Winter's Tale" (iv. 3), Autolycus says: "the hottest
day prognostication proclaims;" that is, the hottest day foretold in the
almanac. In Sonnet xiv. the prognostications in almanacs are also
noticed:
"Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind:
Or say with princes if it shall go well,
By oft predict that I in heaven find."
In "Antony and Cleopatra" (i. 2) Enobarbus says: "They are greater
storms and tempests than almanacs can report;" and in "2 Henry IV." (ii.
4), Prince Henry says: "Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what
says the almanac to that?"
_Amulets._ A belief in the efficacy of an amulet or charm to ward off
diseases and to avert contagion has prevailed from a very early period.
The use of amulets was common among the Greeks and Romans, whose amulets
were principally formed of gems, crowns of pearls, necklaces of coral,
shells, etc. The amulet of modern times has been of the most varied
kinds; objects being selected either from the animal, vegetable, or
mineral kingdom, pieces of old rags or garments, scraps of writing in
legible or illegible characters, in fact, of anything to which any
superstitious property has been considered to belong.[938] This form of
superstition is noticed in "1 Henry VI." (v. 3), in the scene laid at
Angiers, where La Pucelle exclaims:
"The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly.
Now help, ye charming spells and periapts"
--periapts being charms which were worn as preservatives against diseases
or mischief. Thus Cotgrave[939] explains the word as "a medicine hanged
about any part of the bodie."
[938] Pettigrew's "Medical Superstitions," p. 48.
[939] "French and English Dictionary;" see Dyce's "Glossary to
Shakespeare," p. 316; Nares describes it as "a bandage, tied on
for magical purposes, from [Greek: periaptô];" see Brand's "Pop.
Antiq.," 1849, vol. iii. pp. 324-326; Douce's "Illustrations of
Shakespeare," 1839, pp. 305-307.
_Ceremonies._ These, says Malone, were "omens or signs deduced from
sacrifices or other ceremonial rites." Thus, in "Julius Cæsar" (ii. 1),
Cassius says of Cæsar, that--
"he is superstitious grown of late,
Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies."
And in the next scene Calpurnia adds:
"Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me."
_Charms._ These, as Mr. Pettigrew[940] has pointed out, differ little
from amulets, the difference consisting in the manner in which they are
used rather than in their nature. Thus, whereas the amulet was to be
suspended on the person when employed, the charm was not necessarily
subjected to such a method of application. In days gone by, and even at
the present day, in country districts, so universal has been the use of
this source of supposed magical power that there is scarcely a disease
for which a charm has not been given. It is not only to diseases of body
and mind that the superstitious practice has been directed; having been
in popular request to avert evil, and to counteract supposed malignant
influences. As might be expected, Shakespeare has given various
allusions to this usage, as, for example, in "Cymbeline" (v. 3), where
Posthumus says:
"To day, how many would have given their honours
To have sav'd their carcases! took heel to do't,
And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,
Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
Nor feel him where he struck"
--this passage referring to the notion of certain charms being powerful
enough to keep men unhurt in battle.
[940] "Medical Superstitions," p. 55.
Othello (iii. 4), speaking of the handkerchief which he had given to
Desdemona, relates:
"That handkerchief
Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people."
And in the same play (i. 1), Brabantio asks:
"Is there not charms,
By which the property of youth and maidhood
May be abus'd?"
Again, in "Much Ado About Nothing" (iii. 2), Benedick, who is
represented as having the toothache, after listening to the banter of
his comrades, replies: "Yet is this no charm for the toothache."
Perfect silence seems to have been regarded as indispensable for the
success of any charm; and Pliny informs us that "favete linguis" was the
usual exclamation employed on such an occasion. From this circumstance
it has been suggested that the well-known phrase "to charm a tongue" may
have originated. Thus we have the following dialogue in "Othello" (v.
2):
"_Iago._ Go to, charm your tongue.
_Emilia._ I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak."
Thus, on the appearance, amid thunder, of the first apparition to
Macbeth, after the witches have performed certain charms (iv. 1),
Shakespeare introduces the following dialogue:
"_Macbeth._ Tell me, thou unknown power--
_First Witch._ He knows thy thought:
Hear his speech, but say thou nought."
Again, in "The Tempest" (iv. 1), Prospero says:
"hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr'd."
_Metrical Charms._ There was a superstition long prevalent that life
might be taken away by metrical charms.[941] Reginald Scot, in his
"Discovery of Witchcraft" (1584), says: "The Irishmen addict themselves,
etc.; yea, they will not sticke to affirme that they can _rime_ a man to
death." In "1 Henry VI." (i. 1), the Duke of Exeter, referring to the
lamented death of Henry V., says:
"Shall we think the subtle-witted French
Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him,
By magic verses have contrived his end?"
[941] See, under _Rat_, a similar superstition noticed.
These "magic verses," to which the death of Henry V. is here attributed,
were not required to be uttered in his presence; their deadly energy
existing solely in the words of the imprecation and the malevolence of
the reciter, which were supposed to render them effectual at any
distance.
Again, the alphabet was called the Christ-cross-row; either because a
cross was prefixed to the alphabet in the old primers, or, more
probably, from a superstitious custom of writing the alphabet in the
form of a cross by way of a charm. In "Richard III." (i. 1), Clarence
relates how King Edward--
"Hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G."
_Dreams._ These, considered as prognostics of good or evil, are
frequently introduced by Shakespeare. In "Troilus and Cressida" (v. 3),
Andromache exclaims:
"My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day."
While Romeo ("Romeo and Juliet," v. 1) declares:
"My dreams presage some joyful news at hand."
It is chiefly as precursors of misfortune that the poet has availed
himself of their supposed influence as omens of future fate. Thus, there
are few passages in his dramas more terrific than the dreams of Richard
III. and Clarence; the latter especially, as Mr. Drake says,[942] "is
replete with the most fearful imagery, and makes the blood run chill
with horror."
[942] "Shakespeare and his Times," p. 355.
Dreaming of certain things has generally been supposed to be ominous
either of good or ill luck;[943] and at the present day the credulous
pay oftentimes no small attention to their dreams, should these happen
to have referred to what they consider unlucky things. In the same way
Shylock, in the "Merchant of Venice" (ii. 5), is a victim to much
superstitious dread:
"Jessica, my girl,
Look to my house. I am right loath to go:
There is some ill a brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night."
[943] See Brand's "Pop. Antiq.," 1849, vol. iii. pp. 127-141.
In "Julius Cæsar," dreaming of banquet is supposed to presage
misfortune.
It was also supposed that malicious spirits took advantage of sleep to
torment their victims;[944] hence Macbeth (ii. 1) exclaims:
"Merciful powers,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
Gives way to in repose!"[945]
[944] See p. 283.
[945] See Malone's "Variorum Shakespeare," 1821, vol. ii. p. 90.
_Duels._ The death of the vanquished person was always considered a
certain evidence of his guilt. Thus, in "2 Henry VI." (ii. 3), King
Henry, speaking of the death of Horner in the duel with Peter,
says:[946]
"Go, take hence that traitor from our sight;
For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt:
And God in justice hath reveal'd to us
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,
Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully.--
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward."
[946] See Singer's "Shakespeare," vol. vi. p. 167.
We may also compare what Arcite says to Palamon in the "Two Noble
Kinsmen" (iii. 6):
"If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward;
For none but such dare die in these just trials."
Among the customs connected with duelling, it appears that, according to
an old law, knights were to fight with the lance and the sword, as those
of inferior rank fought with an ebon staff or baton, to the farther end
of which was fixed a bag crammed hard with sand.[947] Thus Shakespeare,
in "2 Henry VI." (ii. 3), represents Horner entering "bearing his staff
with a sand-bag fastened to it." Butler, in his "Hudibras," alludes to
this custom:
"Engag'd with money-bags, as bold
As men with sand-bags did of old."
[947] See Nares's "Glossary," vol. ii. p. 765.
Steevens adds that "a passage in St. Chrysostom very clearly proves the
great antiquity of this practice."
_Fortune-tellers._ A common method of fortune-tellers, in pretending to
tell future events, was by means of a beryl or glass. In an extract from
the "Penal Laws against Witches," it is said, "they do answer either by
voice, or else set before their eyes, in glasses, chrystal stones, etc.,
the pictures or images of the persons or things sought for." It is to
this kind of juggling prophecy that Angelo, in "Measure for Measure"
(ii. 2), refers, when he tells how the law--
"like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils,
Either new, or by remissness new-conceiv'd."
Again, Macbeth (iv. 1), when "a show of eight kings" is presented to
him, exclaims, after witnessing the seventh:
"I'll see no more:--
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shows me many more."
Spenser[948] has given a circumstantial account of the glass which
Merlin made for King Ryence. A mirror of the same kind was presented to
Cambuscan, in the "Squier's Tale" of Chaucer; and we are also told how
"a certain philosopher did the like to Pompey, the which showed him in a
glass the order of his enemies' march."[949] Brand, in his "Popular
Antiquities,"[950] gives several interesting accounts of this method of
fortune-telling; and quotes the following from Vallancey's "Collectanea
de Rebus Hibernicis:" "In the Highlands of Scotland, a large chrystal,
of a figure somewhat oval, was kept by the priests to work charms by;
water poured upon it at this day is given to cattle against diseases;
these stones are now preserved by the oldest and most superstitious in
the country; they were once common in Ireland."
[948] "Fairy Queen," bk. iii. c. 2; see Singer's "Shakespeare,"
vol. ix. p. 82.
[949] Boisteau's "Theatrum Mundi," translated by John Alday (1574).
[950] 1849, vol. iii. pp. 60, 61.
Further allusions to fortune-tellers occur in "Comedy of Errors" (v. 1),
and "Merry Wives of Windsor" (iv. 2).
It appears, too, that the trade of fortune-telling was, in Shakespeare's
day, as now, exercised by the wandering hordes of gypsies. In "Antony
and Cleopatra" (iv. 12), the Roman complains that Cleopatra
"Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,
Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss."
_Giants._ The belief in giants and other monsters was much credited in
olden times, and, "among the legends of nearly every race or tribe, few
are more universal than those relating to giants or men of colossal size
and superhuman power."[951] That such stories were current in
Shakespeare's day, is attested by the fact that the poet makes Othello
(i. 3), in his eloquent defence before the Senate of Venice, when
explaining his method of courtship, allude to
"the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders."
[951] See Hardwick's "Traditions, Superstitions, and
Folk-Lore," 1872, pp. 197, 224.
In "The Tempest" (iii. 3), Gonzalo relates how--
"When we were boys,
Who would believe that there were mountaineers
Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em
Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men,
Whose heads stood in their breasts?"
And after the appearance of Prospero's magic repast, Sebastian says:
"Now I will believe
That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phoenix' throne; one phoenix
At this hour reigning there."
Among the numerous references to giants by Shakespeare, we may quote the
following. In "2 Henry VI." (ii. 3), Horner says: "Peter, have at thee
with a downright blow [as Bevis of Southampton fell upon
Ascapart]."[952]
[952] The addition in brackets is rejected by the editors of
the Globe edition.
Ascapart, according to the legend, was "ful thyrty fote longe," and was
conquered by Sir Bevis of Southampton.
In "Cymbeline" (iii 3), Belarius says:
"the gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbans on, without
Good morrow to the sun."
In the "Merry Wives of Windsor" (ii. 1), Mrs. Page says: "I had rather
be a giantess, and lie under Mount Pelion."[953]
[953] Cf. "Measure for Measure," ii. 2, iii. 1; "Much Ado About
Nothing," v. 1; "Loves Labour's Lost," iii. 1.
_Lucky Days._ From the most remote period certain days have been
supposed to be just as lucky as others are the reverse, a notion which
is not confined to any one country. In Shakespeare's day great attention
was paid to this superstitious fancy, which is probably alluded to in
the "Winter's Tale" (iii. 3), where the Shepherd says to the Clown,
"'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't."
In "King John" (iii. 1) Constance exclaims:
"What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done,
That it in golden letters should be set
Among the high tides in the calendar?
Nay, rather turn this day out of the week,
This day of shame, oppression, perjury:
Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child
Pray that their burthens may not fall this day,
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd:
But on this day let seamen fear no wreck;
No bargains break that are not this day made:
This day, all things begun come to ill end,
Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change!"
Again, Macbeth (iv. 1) says:
"Let this pernicious hour
Stand aye accursed in the calendar!"
In the old almanacs the days supposed to be favorable or unfavorable are
enumerated, allusion to which occurs in Webster's "Duchess of Malfy,"
1623:
"By the almanack, I think,
To choose good days and shun the critical."
At the present day this superstition still retains its hold on the
popular mind, and in the transactions of life exerts an important
influence.[954]
[954] See Brand's "Pop. Antiq.," 1879, vol. i. pp. 44-51;
Jones's "Credulities Past and Present," pp. 493-507; Hampson's
"OEvi Medii Kalendarium," vol. i. p. 210; see an article on "Day
Fatality" in John Aubrey's "Miscellanies."
_Magic._ The system of magic, which holds such a prominent place in "The
Tempest," was formerly an article in the popular creed, and as such is
frequently noticed by the writers of Shakespeare's time. Thus, in
describing Prospero, Shakespeare has given him several of the adjuncts,
besides the costume, of the popular magician, much virtue being inherent
in his very garments. So Prospero, when addressing his daughter (i. 2),
says:
"Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me.--So;
Lie there, my art."
A similar importance is assigned to his staff, for he tells Ferdinand
(i. 2):
"I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop."
And when he abjures the practice of magic, one of the requisites is "to
break his staff," and to (v. 1)
"Bury it certain fathoms in the earth."
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):
"Remember,
First to possess his books; for without them
He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command."
Prospero, too, declares (iii. 1):
"I'll to my book;
For yet, ere supper time, must I perform
Much business appertaining."
And on his relinquishing his art he says that:
"Deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book."
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,
"Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father!"
thus reply:
"I cannot choose: sometime he angers me,
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies;
And of a dragon and a finless fish."
In "King Lear" (iii. 2) the Fool says
"I'll speak a prophecy ere I go:
When priests are more in word than matter;
When brewers mar their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors' tutors;
No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors;
When every case in law is right;
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues.
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i' the field;
And bawds and whores do churches build;--
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion:
Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That going shall be us'd with feet.
This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time."
This witty satire was probably against the prophecies attributed to
Merlin, which were then prevalent among the people.[955]
[955] See Kelly's "Notices Illustrative of the Drama and Other
Amusements at Leicester," 1865, pp. 116, 118.
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:
"Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him."
_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:
"'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;
The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth,
And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change;
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap,
The one in fear to lose what they enjoy,
The other to enjoy by rage and war:
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings."
[956] Drake's "Shakespeare and his Times," p. 352.
Previous to the assassination of Julius Cæsar, we are told, in "Hamlet"
(i. 1), how:
"In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse."
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:
"The night has been unruly; where we lay,
Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,
Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death;
And prophesying with accents terrible
Of dire combustion, and confus'd events,
New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird
Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth
Was feverous and did shake."
This idea is further illustrated in the dialogue which follows, between
Ross and an old man:
"_Old Man._ Threescore and ten I can remember well:
Within the volume of which time I have seen
Hours dreadful, and things strange: but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.
_Ross._ Ah, good father,
Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
When living light should kiss it?"
_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:
"Let him go, Gertrude: do not fear our person:
There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will."
[957] "Traditions, Superstitions, and Folk-Lore," p. 81.
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:
"O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh!--
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural."
[958] "Glossary," vol. ii. p. 974.
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."
[959] See Brand's "Pop. Antiq.," 1849, vol. iii. pp. 229-231.
[960] "Folk-Lore of Northern Counties," 1849, p. 57.
We may also compare the following passage, where Macbeth (iii. 4),
speaking of the Ghost, says:
"It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood:
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak;
Augurs and understood relations have
By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
The secret'st man of blood."
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."