And men still grope t' anticipate
The cabinet designs of Fate;
Apply to wizards to foresee
What shall and what shall never be.
Hudibras, part iii. canto 3.
In accordance with the plan laid down in the introduction to this
volume, we proceed to the consideration of the follies into which men
have been led by their eager desire to pierce the thick darkness of
futurity. God himself, for his own wise purposes, has more than once
undrawn the impenetrable veil which shrouds those awful secrets;
and, for purposes just as wise, he has decreed that, except in these
instances, ignorance shall be our lot for ever. It is happy for man that
he does not know what the morrow is to bring forth; but, unaware of
this great blessing, he has, in all ages of the world, presumptuously
endeavoured to trace the events of unborn centuries, and anticipate
the march of time. He has reduced this presumption into a study. He has
divided it into sciences and systems without number, employing his whole
life in the vain pursuit. Upon no subject has it been so easy to deceive
the world as upon this. In every breast the curiosity exists in a
greater or less degree, and can only be conquered by a long course
of self-examination, and a firm reliance that the future would not be
hidden from our sight, if it were right that we should be acquainted
with it.
An undue opinion of our own importance in the scale of creation is
at the bottom of all our unwarrantable notions in this respect. How
flattering to the pride of man to think that the stars in their courses
watch over him, and typify, by their movements and aspects, the joys or
the sorrows that await him! He, less in proportion to the universe than
the all but invisible insects that feed in myriads on a summer's leaf,
are to this great globe itself, fondly imagines that eternal worlds
were chiefly created to prognosticate his fate. How we should pity the
arrogance of the worm that crawls at our feet, if we knew that it also
desired to know the secrets of futurity, and imagined that meteors shot
athwart the sky to warn it that a tom-tit was hovering near to gobble it
up; that storms and earthquakes, the revolutions of empires, or the fall
of mighty monarchs, only happened to, predict its birth, its progress,
and its decay! Not a whit less presuming has man shown himself; not a
whit less arrogant are the sciences, so called, of astrology, augury,
necromancy, geomancy, palmistry, and divination of every kind.
Leaving out of view the oracles of pagan antiquity and religious
predictions in general, and confining ourselves solely to the persons
who, in modern times, have made themselves most conspicuous in
foretelling the future, we shall find that the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries were the golden age of these impostors. Many of them have been
already mentioned in their character of alchymists. The union of the two
pretensions is not at all surprising. It was to be expected that those
who assumed a power so preposterous as that of prolonging the life of
man for several centuries, should pretend, at the same time, to foretell
the events which were to mark that preternatural span of existence. The
world would as readily believe that they had discovered all secrets, as
that they had only discovered one. The most celebrated astrologers of
Europe, three centuries ago, were alchymists. Agrippa, Paracelsus, Dr.
Dee, and the Rosicrucians, all laid as much stress upon their knowledge
of the days to come, as upon their pretended possession of the
philosopher's stone and the elixir of life. In their time, ideas of the
wonderful, the diabolical, and the supernatural, were rifer than ever
they were before. The devil or the stars were universally believed to
meddle constantly in the affairs of men; and both were to be consulted
with proper ceremonies. Those who were of a melancholy and gloomy
temperament betook themselves to necromancy and sorcery; those more
cheerful and aspiring, devoted themselves to astrology. The latter
science was encouraged by all the monarchs and governments of that age.
In England, from the time of Elizabeth to that of William and Mary,
judicial astrology was in high repute. During that period flourished
Drs. Dee, Lamb, and Forman; with Lilly, Booker, Gadbury, Evans, and
scores of nameless impostors in every considerable town and village in
the country, who made it their business to cast nativities, aid in the
recovery of stolen goods, prognosticate happy or unhappy marriages,
predict whether journeys would be prosperous, and note lucky moments for
the commencement of any enterprise, from the setting up of a cobler's
shop to the marching of an army. Men who, to use the words of Butler,
did
"Deal in Destiny's dark counsel,
And sage opinion of the moon sell;
To whom all people far and near
On deep importance did repair,
When brass and pewter pots did stray,
And linen slunk out of the way."
In Lilly's Memoirs of his Life and Times, there are many notices of the
inferior quacks who then abounded, and upon whom he pretended to look
down with supreme contempt; not because they were astrologers, but
because they debased that noble art by taking fees for the recovery of
stolen property. From Butler's Hudibras and its curious notes, we may
learn what immense numbers of these fellows lived upon the credulity
of mankind in that age of witchcraft and diablerie. Even in our day how
great is the reputation enjoyed by the almanac-makers, who assume
the name of Francis Moore. But in the time of Charles I. and the
Commonwealth, the most learned, the most noble, and the most conspicuous
characters did not hesitate to consult astrologers in the most open
manner. Lilly, whom Butler has immortalized under the name of Sydrophel,
relates, that he proposed to write a work called "An Introduction
to Astrology," in which he would satisfy the whole kingdom of the
lawfulness of that art. Many of the soldiers were for it, he says, and
many of the Independent party, and abundance of worthy men in the House
of Commons, his assured friends, and able to take his part against the
Presbyterians, who would have silenced his predictions if they could.
He afterwards carried his plan into execution, and when his book was
published, went with another astrologer named Booker to the headquarters
of the parliamentary army at Windsor, where they were welcomed and
feasted in the garden where General Fairfax lodged. They were afterwards
introduced to the general, who received them very kindly, and made
allusion to some of their predictions. He hoped their art was lawful and
agreeable to God's word; but he did not understand it himself. He did
not doubt, however, that the two astrologers feared God, and therefore
he had a good opinion of them. Lilly assured him that the art of
astrology was quite consonant to the Scriptures; and confidently
predicted from his knowledge of the stars, that the parliamentary army
would overthrow all its enemies. In Oliver's Protectorate, this quack
informs us that he wrote freely enough. He became an Independent, and
all the soldiery were his friends. When he went to Scotland, he saw a
soldier standing in front of the army, with a book of prophecies in his
hand, exclaiming to the several companies as they passed by him, "Lo!
hear what Lilly saith: you are in this month promised victory! Fight it
out, brave boys! and then read that month's prediction!"
After the great fire of London, which Lilly said he had foretold, he was
sent for by the committee of the House of Commons appointed to inquire
into the causes of the calamity. In his "Monarchy or no Monarchy,"
published in 1651, he had inserted an hieroglyphical plate, representing
on one side persons in winding sheets digging graves; and on the other
a large city in flames. After the great fire some sapient member of the
legislature bethought him of Lilly's book, and having mentioned it in
the house, it was agreed that the astrologer should be summoned. Lilly
attended accordingly, when Sir Robert Brooke told him the reason of his
summons, and called upon him to declare what he knew. This was a rare
opportunity for the vain-glorious Lilly to vaunt his abilities; and he
began a long speech in praise of himself and his pretended science. He
said, that after the execution of Charles I, he was extremely desirous
to know what might from that time forth happen to the parliament and to
the nation in general. He, therefore, consulted the stars and
satisfied himself. The result of his judgment he put into emblems and
hieroglyphics, without any commentary, so that the true meaning might be
concealed from the vulgar, and made manifest only to the wise; imitating
in this the example of many wise philosophers who had done the like.
"Did you foresee the year of the fire?" said a member. "No!" quoth
Lilly, "nor was I desirous: of that I made no scrutiny." After
some further parley the house found they could make nothing of the
astrologer, and dismissed him with great civility.
One specimen of the explanation of a prophecy given by Lilly, and
related by him with much complacency, will be sufficient to show the
sort of trash by which he imposed upon the million. "In the year 1588,"
says he, "there was a prophecy printed in Greek characters, exactly
deciphering the long troubles of the English nation from 1641 to 1660;"
and it ended thus:--"And after him shall come a dreadful dead man, and
with him a royal G, of the best blood in the world, and he shall have
the crown, and shall set England on the right way, and put out
all heresies." The following is the explanation of this oracular
absurdity:--
"Monkery being extinguished above eighty or ninety years, and the Lord
General's name being Monk, is the dead man. The royal G. or C, [it is
gamma in the Greek, intending C. in the Latin, being the third letter in
the Alphabet] is Charles II, who for his extraction may be said to be of
the best blood of the world."
In France and Germany astrologers met even more encouragement than they
received in England. In very early ages, Charlemagne and his successors
fulminated their wrath against them in common with sorcerers. Louis XI,
that most superstitious of men, entertained great numbers of them at
his court; and Catherine de Medicis, that most superstitious of women,
hardly ever took any affair of importance without consulting them. She
chiefly favoured her own countrymen; and during the time she governed
France, the land was overrun by Italian conjurors, necromancers, and
fortune-tellers of every kind. But the chief astrologer of that day,
beyond all doubt, was the celebrated Nostradamus, physician to her
husband, King Henry II. He was born in 1503, at the town of St. Remi,
in Provence, where his father was a notary. He did not acquire much
fame till he was past his fiftieth year, when his famous "Centuries,"
a collection of verses, written in obscure and almost unintelligible
language, began to excite attention. They were so much spoken of in
1556, that Henry II. resolved to attach so skilful a man to his service,
and appointed him his physician. In a biographical notice of him
prefixed to the edition of his "Vraies Centuries," published at
Amsterdam in 1668, we are informed that he often discoursed with
his royal master on the secrets of futurity, and received many great
presents as his reward, besides his usual allowance for medical
attendance. After the death of Henry, he retired to his native place,
where Charles IX. paid him a visit in 1564, and was so impressed with
veneration for his wondrous knowledge of the things that were to be, not
in France only, but in the whole world for hundreds of years to come,
that he made him a counsellor of state, and his own physician, besides
treating him in other matters with a royal liberality. "In fine,"
continues his biographer, "I should be too prolix were I to tell all
the honours conferred upon him, and all the great nobles and learned men
that arrived at his house, from the very ends of the earth, to see and
converse with him as if he had been an oracle. Many strangers, in fact,
came to France for no other purpose than to consult him."
The prophecies of Nostradamus consist of upwards of a thousand stanzas,
each of four lines, and are to the full as obscure as the oracles of
They take so great a latitude, both as to time and space, that they are
almost sure to be fulfilled somewhere or other in the course of a
few centuries; A little ingenuity like that evinced by Lilly, in his
explanation about General Monk and the dreadful dead man, might easily
make events to fit some of them.
Let us try. In his second century, prediction 66, he says,--'
"From great dangers the captive is escaped. A little time, great fortune
changed. In the palace the people are caught. By good augury the city is
besieged."
"What is this," a believer might exclaim, "but the escape of Napoleon
from Elba--his changed fortune, and the occupation of Paris by the
allied armies?"--Let us try again. In his third century, prediction 98,
he says,-- "Two royal brothers will make fierce war on each other; So
mortal shall be the strife between them, That each one shall occupy a
fort against the other; For their reign and life shall be the quarrel."
Some Lillius Redivivus would find no difficulty in this prediction.
To use a vulgar phrase, it is as clear as a pikestaff. Had not the
astrologer in view Don Miguel and Don Pedro when he penned this stanza,
so much less obscure and oracular than the rest?
He is to this day extremely popular in France and the Walloon country
of Belgium, where old farmer-wives consult him with great confidence and
assiduity.
Catherine di Medicis was not the only member of her illustrious house
who entertained astrologers. At the beginning of the fifteenth century,
there was a man named Basil, residing in Florence, who was noted over
all Italy for his skill in piercing the darkness of futurity. It is said
that he foretold to Cosmo di Medicis, then a private citizen, that he
would attain high dignity, inasmuch as the ascendant of his nativity was
adorned with the same propitious aspects as those of Augustus Caesar and
the Emperor Charles V. [Hermippus Redivivus, p. 142.] Another astrologer
foretold the death of Prince Alexander di Medicis; and so very minute
and particular was he in all the circumstances, that he was suspected of
being chiefly instrumental in fulfilling his own prophecy; a very
common resource with these fellows, to keep up their credit. He foretold
confidently that the Prince should die by the hand of his own familiar
friend, a person of a slender habit of body, a small face, a swarthy
complexion, and of most remarkable taciturnity. So it afterwards
happened; Alexander having been murdered in his chamber by his cousin
Lorenzo, who corresponded exactly with the above description. [Jovii
Elog. p. 320.] The author of Hermippus Redivivus, in relating this
story, inclines to the belief that the astrologer was guiltless of any
participation in the crime, but was employed by some friend of Prince
Alexander, to warn him of his danger.
A much more remarkable story is told of an astrologer, who lived
in Romagna, in the fifteenth century, and whose name was Antiochus
Tibertus. [Les Anecdotes de Florence ou l'Histoire secrete de la Maison
di Medicis, p. 318.] At that time nearly all the petty sovereigns of
Italy retained such men in their service; and Tibertus having studied
the mathematics with great success at Paris, and delivered many
predictions, some of which, for guesses, were not deficient in
shrewdness, was taken into the household of Pandolfo di Malatesta, the
sovereign of Rimini. His reputation was so great, that his study
was continually thronged, either with visitors who were persons of
distinction, or with clients who came to him for advice, and in a short
time he acquired a considerable fortune. Notwithstanding all these
advantages he passed his life miserably, and ended it on the scaffold.
The following story afterwards got into circulation, and has been often
triumphantly cited by succeeding astrologers as an irrefragable proof
of the truth of their science. It was said, that long before he died he
uttered three remarkable prophecies; one relating to himself, another
to his friend, and the third to his patron, Pandolfo di Malatesta. The
first delivered was that relating to his friend, Guido di Bogni, one
of the greatest captains of the time. Guido was exceedingly desirous to
know his fortune, and so importuned Tibertus, that the latter consulted
the stars, and the lines on his palm, to satisfy him. He afterwards told
him with a sorrowful face, that according to all the rules of astrology
and palmistry, he should be falsely suspected by his best friend, and
should lose his life in consequence. Guido then asked the astrologer if
he could foretell his own fate; upon which Tibertus again consulted the
stars, and found that it was decreed from all eternity that he
should end his days on the scaffold. Malatesta, when he heard these
predictions, so unlikely, to all present appearance, to prove true,
desired his astrologer to predict his fate also; and to hide nothing
from him, however unfavourable it might be. Tibertus complied, and
told his patron, at that time one of the most flourishing and powerful
princes of Italy, that he should suffer great want, and die at last,
like a beggar, in the common hospital of Bologna: and so it happened in
all three cases. Guido di Bogni was accused by his own father-in-law,
the Count di Bentivoglio, of a treasonable design to deliver up the city
of Rimini to the papal forces, and was assassinated afterwards, by order
of the tyrant Malatesta, as he sat at the supper-table, to which he had
been invited in all apparent friendship. The astrologer was, at the
same time, thrown into prison, as being concerned in the treason of his
friend. He attempted to escape, and had succeeded in letting himself
down from his dungeon window into a moat, when he was discovered by
the sentinels. This being reported to Malatesta, he gave orders for his
execution on the following morning.
Malatesta had, at this time, no remembrance of the prophecy; and his
own fate gave him no uneasiness: but events were silently working its
fulfilment. A conspiracy had been formed, though Guido di Bogni was
innocent of it, to deliver up Rimini to the Pope; and all the necessary
measures having been taken, the city was seized by the Count de
Valentinois. In the confusion, Malatesta had barely time to escape
from his palace in disguise. He was pursued from place to place by his
enemies, abandoned by all his former friends, and, finally, by his own
children. He at last fell ill of a languishing disease, at Bologna; and,
nobody caring to afford him shelter, he was carried to the hospital,
where he died. The only thing that detracts from the interest of this
remarkable story is the fact, that the prophecy was made after the
event.
For some weeks before the birth of Louis XIV, an astrologer from
Germany, who had been sent for by the Marshal de Bassompierre and other
noblemen of the court, had taken up his residence in the palace, to
be ready, at a moment's notice, to draw the horoscope of the future
sovereign of France. When the Queen was taken in labour, he was ushered
into a contiguous apartment, that he might receive notice of the very
instant the child was born. The result of his observations were the
three words, diu, dure, feliciter; meaning, that the new-born Prince
should live and reign long, with much labour, and with great glory. No
prediction less favourable could have been expected from an astrologer,
who had his bread to get, and who was at the same time a courtier. A
medal was afterwards struck in commemoration of the event; upon one side
of which was figured the nativity of the Prince, representing him
as driving the chariot of Apollo, with the inscription "Ortus solis
Gallici,"--the rising of the Gallic sun.
The best excuse ever made for astrology was that offered by the great
astronomer, Keppler, himself an unwilling practiser of the art. He had
many applications from his friends to cast nativities for them, and
generally gave a positive refusal to such as he was not afraid of
offending by his frankness. In other cases he accommodated himself
to the prevailing delusion. In sending a copy of his "Ephemerides"
to Professor Gerlach, he wrote that they were nothing but worthless
conjectures; but he was obliged to devote himself to them, or he would
have starved. "Ye overwise philosophers," he exclaimed, in his "Tertius
Interveniens;" "ye censure this daughter of astronomy beyond her
deserts! Know ye not that she must support her mother by her charms? The
scanty reward of an astronomer would not provide him with bread, if men
did not entertain hopes of reading the future in the heavens."
NECROMANCY was, next to astrology, the pretended science most resorted
to, by those who wished to pry into the future. The earliest instance
upon record is that of the Witch of Endor and the spirit of Samuel.
Nearly all the nations of antiquity believed in the possibility of
summoning departed ghosts to disclose the awful secrets that God made
clear to the disembodied. Many passages in allusion to this subject,
will at once suggest themselves to the classical reader; but this art
was never carried on openly in any country. All governments looked upon
it as a crime of the deepest dye. While astrology was encouraged, and
its professors courted and rewarded, necromancers were universally
condemned to the stake or the gallows. Roger Bacon, Albertus Magnus,
Arnold of Villeneuve, and many others, were accused, by the public
opinion of many centuries, of meddling in these unhallowed matters.
So deep-rooted has always been the popular delusion with respect to
accusations of this kind, that no crime was ever disproved with such
toil and difficulty. That it met great encouragement, nevertheless, is
evident from the vast numbers of pretenders to it; who, in spite of the
danger, have existed in all ages and countries.
GEOMANCY, or the art of foretelling the future by means of lines and
circles, and other mathematical figures drawn on the earth, is still
extensively practised in Asiatic countries, but is almost unknown in
Europe.
AUGURY, from the flight or entrails of birds, so favourite a study among
the Romans, is, in like manner, exploded in Europe. Its most assiduous
professors, at the present day, are the abominable Thugs of India.
DIVINATION, of which there are many kinds, boasts a more enduring
reputation. It has held an empire over the minds of men from the
earliest periods of recorded history, and is, in all probability, coeval
with time itself. It was practised alike by the Jews, the Egyptians, the
Chaldeans, the Persians, the Greeks, and the Romans; is equally known to
all modern nations, in every part of the world; and is not unfamiliar
to the untutored tribes that roam in the wilds of Africa and America.
Divination, as practised in civilized Europe at the present day, is
chiefly from cards, the tea-cup, and the lines on the palm of the hand.
Gipsies alone make a profession of it; but there are thousands and tens
of thousands of humble families in which the good-wife, and even the
good-man, resort to the grounds at the bottom of their teacups, to know
whether the next harvest will be abundant, or their sow bring forth a
numerous litter; and in which the young maidens look to the same place
to know when they are to be married, and whether the man of their choice
is to be dark or fair, rich or poor, kind or cruel. Divination by cards,
so great a favourite among the moderns, is, of course, a modern science;
as cards do not yet boast an antiquity of much more than four hundred
years. Divination by the palm, so confidently believed in by half the
village lasses in Europe, is of older date, and seems to have been known
to the Egyptians in the time of the patriarchs; as well as divination by
the cup, which, as we are informed in Genesis, was practised by
Joseph. Divination by the rod was also practised by the Egyptians. In
comparatively recent times, it was pretended that by this means hidden
treasures could be discovered. It now appears to be altogether exploded
in Europe. Onomancy, or the foretelling a man's fate by the letters of
his name, and the various transpositions of which they are capable, is
a more modern sort of divination; but it reckons comparatively few
believers.
The following list of the various species of Divination formerly in use,
is given by Gaule, in his "Magastromancer," and quoted in Hone's "Year
Book," p. 1517.
Stareomancy, or divining by the elements. Aeromancy, or divining by
the air. Pyromancy, by fire. Hydromancy, by water. Geomancy, by earth.
Theomancy, pretending to divine by the revelation of the Spirit, and by
the Scriptures, or word of God. Demonomancy, by the aid of devils and
evil spirits. Idolomancy, by idols, images, and figures. Psychomancy,
by the soul, affections, or dispositions of men. Antinopomancy, by
the entrails of human beings. Theriomancy, by beasts. Ornithomancy, by
birds. Icthyomancy, by fishes. Botanomancy, by herbs. Lithomancy, by
stones. Kleromancy, by lots. Oneiromancy, by dreams. Onomancy, by names.
Arithmancy, by numbers. Logarithmancy, by logarithms. Sternomancy, by
the marks from the breast to the belly. Gastromancy, by the sound of,
or marks upon, the belly. Omphelomancy, by the navel. Chiromancy, by
the hands. Paedomancy, by thee feet. Onchyomancy, by the nails.
Cephaleonomancy, by asses' heads. Tuphramancy, by ashes. Kapnomancy, by
smoke. Livanomancy, by the burning of incense. Keromancy, by the
melting of wax. Lecanomancy, by basins of water. Katoxtromancy, by
looking-glasses. Chartomancy, by writing in papers, and by Valentines.
Macharomancy, by knives and swords. Crystallomancy, by crystals.
Dactylomancy, by rings. Koseinomancy, by sieves. Axinomancy, by saws.
Kaltabomancy, by vessels of brass, or other metal. Spatalamancy,
by skins, bones, &c. Roadomancy, by stars. Sciomancy, by shadows.
Astragalomancy, by dice. Oinomancy, by the lees of wine. Sycomancy,
by figs. Tyromancy, by cheese. Alphitomancy, by meal, flour, or bran.
Krithomancy, by corn or grain. Alectromancy, by cocks. Gyromancy, by
circles. Lampadomancy, by candles and lamps.
ONEIRO-CRITICISM, or the art of interpreting dreams, is a relic of the
most remote ages, which has subsisted through all the changes that moral
or physical revolutions have operated in the world. The records of five
thousand years bear abundant testimony to the universal diffusion of the
belief, that the skilful could read the future in dreams. The rules of
the art, if any existed in ancient times, are not known; but in our day,
one simple rule opens the whole secret. Dreams, say all the wiseacres in
Christendom, are to be interpreted by contraries. Thus, if you dream of
filth, you will acquire something valuable; if you dream of the dead,
you will hear news of the living; if you dream of gold and silver,
you run a risk of being without either; and if you dream you have many
friends, you will be persecuted by many enemies. The rule, however, does
not hold good in all cases. It is fortunate to dream of little pigs,
but unfortunate to dream of big bullocks. If you dream you have lost a
tooth, you may be sure that you will shortly lose a friend; and if
you dream that your house is on fire, you will receive news from a
far country. If you dream of vermin, it is a sign that there will be
sickness in your family; and if you dream of serpents, you will have
friends who, in the course of time, will prove your bitterest enemies;
but, of all dreams, it is most fortunate if you dream that you are
wallowing up to your neck in mud and mire. Clear water is a sign of
grief; and great troubles, distress, and perplexity are predicted, if
you dream that you stand naked in the public streets, and know not where
to find a garment to shield you from the gaze of the multitude.
In many parts of Great Britain, and the continents of Europe and
America, there are to be found elderly women in the villages and
country-places whose interpretations of dreams are looked upon with as
much reverence as if they were oracles. In districts remote from towns
it is not uncommon to find the members of a family regularly every
morning narrating their dreams at the breakfast-table, and becoming
happy or miserable for the day according to their interpretation. There
is not a flower that blossoms, or fruit that ripens, that, dreamed of,
is not ominous of either good or evil to such people. Every tree of the
field or the forest is endowed with a similar influence over the fate of
mortals, if seen in the night-visions. To dream of the ash, is the
sign of a long journey; and of an oak, prognosticates long life and
prosperity. To dream you strip the bark off any tree, is a sign to a
maiden of an approaching loss of a character; to a married woman, of a
family bereavement; and to a man, of an accession of fortune. To dream
of a leafless tree, is a sign of great sorrow; and of a branchless
trunk, a sign of despair and suicide. The elder-tree is more auspicious
to the sleeper; while the fir-tree, better still, betokens all manner
of comfort and prosperity. The lime-tree predicts a voyage across the
ocean; while the yew and the alder are ominous of sickness to the young
and of death to the old.
It is quite astonishing to see the great demand there is, both in
England and France, for dream-books, and other trash of the same kind.
Two books in England enjoy an extraordinary popularity, and have run
through upwards of fifty editions in as many years in London alone,
besides being reprinted in Manchester, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Dublin.
One is "Mother Bridget's Dream-book and Oracle of Fate;" the other
is the "Norwood Gipsy." It is stated on the authority of one who, is
curious in these matters, that there is a demand for these works,
which are sold at sums varying from a penny to sixpence, chiefly to
servant-girls and imperfectly-educated people, all over the country, of
upwards of eleven thousand annually; and that at no period during the
last thirty years has the average number sold been less than this. The
total number during this period would thus amount to 330,000.
Among the flowers and fruits charged with messages for the future,
the following is a list of the most important, arranged from approved
sources, in alphabetical order:--
Asparagus, gathered and tied up in bundles, is an omen of tears. If you
see it growing in your dreams, it is a sign of good fortune.
Aloes, without a flower, betoken long life: in flower, betoken a legacy.
Artichokes. This vegetable is a sign that you will receive, in a short
time, a favour from the hands of those from whom you would least expect
it.
Agrimony. This herb denotes that there will be sickness in your house.
Anemone, predicts love.
Auriculas, in beds, denote luck; in pots, marriage: while to gather
them, foretells widowhood.
Bilberries, predict a pleasant excursion.
Broom-flowers, an increase of family.
Cauliflowers, predict that all your friends will slight you, or that you
will fall into poverty and find no one to pity you.
Dock-leaves, a present from the country.
Daffodils. Any maiden who dreams of daffodils is warned by her good
angel to avoid going into a wood with her lover, or into any dark or
retired place where she might not be able to make people hear her if
she cried out. Alas! for her if she pay no attention to the warning!
She shall be rifled of the precious flower of chastity, and shall never
again have right to wear the garland of virginity.
"Never again shall she put garland on; Instead of it, she'll wear sad
cypress now, And bitter elder broken from the bough."
Figs, if green, betoken embarrassment; if dried, money to the poor and
mirth to the rich.
Heart's-ease, betokens heart's pain.
Lilies, predict joy; water-lilies, danger from the sea.
Lemons, betoken a separation.
Pomegranates, predict happy wedlock to those who are single, and
reconciliation to those who are married and have disagreed.
Quinces, prognosticate pleasant company.
Roses, denote happy love, not unmixed with sorrow from other sources.
Sorrel, To dream of this herb is a sign that you will shortly have
occasion to exert all your prudence to overcome some great calamity.
Sunflowers, show that your pride will be deeply wounded.
Violets, predict evil to the single and joy to the married.
Yellow-flowers of any kind predict jealousy.
Yew-berries, predict loss of character to both sexes.
It should be observed that the rules for the interpretation of dreams
are far from being universal. The cheeks of the peasant girl of England
glow with pleasure in the morning after she has dreamed of a rose, while
the paysanne of Normandy dreads disappointment and vexation for the very
same reason. The Switzer who dreams of an oaktree does not share in the
Englishman's joy; for he imagines that the vision was a warning to him
that, from some trifling cause, an overwhelming calamity will burst over
him. Thus do the ignorant and the credulous torment themselves; thus do
they spread their nets to catch vexation, and pass their lives between
hopes which are of no value and fears which are a positive evil.
OMENS.--Among the other means of self-annoyance upon which men have
stumbled, in their vain hope of discovering the future, signs and omens
hold a conspicuous place. There is scarcely an occurrence in nature
which, happening at a certain time, is not looked upon by some persons
as a prognosticator either of good or evil. The latter are in the
greatest number, so much more ingenious are we in tormenting ourselves
than in discovering reasons for enjoyment in the things that surround
us. We go out of our course to make ourselves uncomfortable; the cup
of life is not bitter enough to our palate, and we distil superfluous
poison to put into it, or conjure up hideous things to frighten
ourselves at, which would never exist if we did not make them. "We
suffer," says Addison, ["Spectator," No. 7, March 8th, 1710-11.] "as
much from trifling accidents as from real evils. I have known the
shooting of a star spoil a night's rest, and have seen a man in love
grow pale and lose his appetite upon the plucking of a merrythought.
A screech-owl at midnight has alarmed a family more than a band of
robbers; nay, the voice of a cricket has struck more terror than the
roaring of a lion. There is nothing so inconsiderable which may
not appear dreadful to an imagination that is filled with omens and
prognostics. A rusty nail or a crooked pin shoot up into prodigies."
The century and a quarter that has passed away since Addison wrote has
seen the fall of many errors. Many fallacies and delusions have been
crushed under the foot of time since then; but this has been left
unscathed, to frighten the weakminded and embitter their existence. A
belief in omens is not confined to the humble and uninformed. A general,
who led an army with credit, has been known to feel alarmed at a
winding-sheet in the candle; and learned men, who had honourably and
fairly earned the highest honours of literature, have been seen to
gather their little ones around them, and fear that one would be
snatched away, because,
"When stole upon the time the dead of night,
And heavy sleep had closed up mortal eyes,"
a dog in the street was howling at the moon. Persons who would
acknowledge freely that the belief in omens was unworthy of a man of
sense, have yet confessed at the same time that, in spite of their
reason, they have been unable to conquer their fears of death when they
heard the harmless insect called the death-watch ticking in the wall, or
saw an oblong hollow coal fly out of the fire.
Many other evil omens besides those mentioned above alarm the vulgar
and the weak. If a sudden shivering comes over such people, they believe
that, at that instant, an enemy is treading over the spot that will one
day be their grave. If they meet a sow when they first walk abroad in
the morning, it is an omen of evil for that day. To meet an ass, is in
like manner unlucky. It is also very unfortunate to walk under a ladder;
to forget to eat goose on the festival of St. Michael; to tread upon a
beetle, or to eat the twin nuts that are sometimes found in one shell.
Woe, in like manner, is predicted to that wight who inadvertently upsets
the salt; each grain that is overthrown will bring to him a day of
sorrow. If thirteen persons sit at table, one of them will die within
the year; and all of them will be unhappy. Of all evil omens, this is
the worst. The facetious Dr. Kitchener used to observe that there was
one case in which he believed that it was really unlucky for thirteen
persons to sit down to dinner, and that was when there was only dinner
enough for twelve. Unfortunately for their peace of mind, the great
majority of people do not take this wise view of the matter. In almost
every country of Europe the same superstition prevails, and some carry
it so far as to look upon the number thirteen as in every way ominous of
evil; and if they find thirteen coins in their purse, cast away the odd
one like a polluted thing. The philosophic Beranger, in his exquisite
song, "Thirteen at Table," has taken a poetical view of this humiliating
superstition, and mingled, as is his wont, a lesson of genuine wisdom in
his lay. Being at dinner, he overthrows the salt, and, looking round the
room, discovers that he is the thirteenth guest. While he is mourning
his unhappy fate, and conjuring up visions of disease and suffering, and
the grave, he is suddenly startled by the apparition of Death herself,
not in the shape of a grim foe, with skeleton ribs and menacing dart,
but of an angel of light, who shows the folly of tormenting ourselves
with the dread of her approach, when she is the friend, rather than the
enemy, of man, and frees us from the fetters which bind us to the dust.
If men could bring themselves to look upon Death in this manner, living
well and wisely till her inevitable approach, how vast a store of grief
and vexation would they spare themselves!
Among good omens, one of the most conspicuous is to meet a piebald
horse. To meet two of these animals is still more fortunate; and if on
such an occasion you spit thrice, and form any reasonable wish, it will
be gratified within three days. It is also a sign of good fortune if you
inadvertently put on your stocking wrong side out. If you wilfully wear
your stocking in this fashion, no good will come of it. It is very lucky
to sneeze twice; but if you sneeze a third time, the omen loses its
power, and your good fortune will be nipped in the bud. If a strange dog
follow you, and fawn on you, and wish to attach itself to you, it is a
sign of very great prosperity. Just as fortunate is it if a strange male
cat comes to your house and manifests friendly intentions towards your
family. If a she eat, it is an omen, on the contrary, of very great
misfortune. If a swarm of bees alight in your garden, some very high
honour and great joys await you.
Besides these glimpses of the future, you may know something of your
fate by a diligent attention to every itching that you may feel in your
body. Thus, if the eye or the nose itches, it is a sign you will be
shortly vexed; if the foot itches you will tread upon strange ground;
and if the elbow itches, you will change your bedfellow. Itching of the
right-hand prognosticates that you will soon have a sum of money; and of
the left, that you will be called upon to disburse it.
These are but a few of the omens which are generally credited in modern
Europe. A complete list of them would fatigue from its length, and
sicken from its absurdity. It would be still more unprofitable to
attempt to specify the various delusions of the same kind which
are believed among Oriental nations. Every reader will remember the
comprehensive formula of cursing preserved in "Tristram Shandy:"--curse
a man after any fashion you remember or can invent, you will be sure to
find it there. The Oriental creed of omens is not less comprehensive.
Every movement of the body, every emotion of the mind, is at certain
times an omen. Every form and object in nature, even the shape of
the clouds and the changes of the weather; every colour, every sound,
whether of men or animals, or birds or insects, or inanimate things,
is an omen. Nothing is too trifling or inconsiderable to inspire a hope
which is not worth cherishing, or a fear which is sufficient to embitter
existence.
From the belief in omens springs the superstition that has, from very
early ages, set apart certain days, as more favourable than others, for
prying into the secrets of futurity. The following, copied verbatim
from the popular "Dream and Omen Book" of Mother Bridget, will show
the belief of the people of England at the present day. Those who
are curious as to the ancient history of these observances, will find
abundant aliment in the "Every-day Book."
"The 1st of January.--If a young maiden drink, on going to bed, a pint
of cold spring-water, in which is beat up an amulet, composed of the
yolk of a pullet's egg, the legs of a spider, and the skin of an eel
pounded, her future destiny will be revealed to her in a dream. This
charm fails of its effect if tried any other day of the year.
"Valentine Day.--Let a single woman go out of her own door very early in
the morning, and if the first person she meets be a woman, she will
not be married that year: if she meet a man, she will be married within
three months.
"Lady Day.--The following charm may be tried this day with certain
success:--String thirty-one nuts on a string, composed of red worsted
mixed with blue silk, and tie it round your neck on going to bed,
repeating these lines--
'Oh, I wish! oh, I wish to see
Who my true love is to be!'
Shortly after midnight, you will see your lover in a dream, and be
informed at the same time of all the principal events of your future
life.
"St. Swithin's Eve.--Select three things you most wish to know; write
them down with a new pen and red ink on a sheet of fine-wove paper, from
which you must previously cut off all the corners and burn them. Fold
the paper into a true-lover's knot, and wrap round it three hairs
from your head. Place the paper under your pillow for three successive
nights, and your curiosity to know the future will be satisfied.
"St. Mark's Eve.--Repair to the nearest churchyard as the clock strikes
twelve, and take from a grave on the south-side of the church three
tufts of grass (the longer and ranker the better), and on going to bed
place them under your pillow, repeating earnestly three several times,
'The Eve of St. Mark by prediction is blest, Set therefore my hopes and
my fears all to rest: Let me know my fate, whether weal or woe; Whether
my rank's to be high or low; Whether to live single, or be a bride, And
the destiny my star doth provide.'
Should you have no dream that night, you will be single and miserable
all your life. If you dream of thunder and lightning, your life will be
one of great difficulty and sorrow.
"Candlemas Eve.--On this night (which is the purification of the Virgin
Mary), let three, five, seven, or nine, young maidens assemble together
in a square chamber. Hang in each corner a bundle of sweet herbs, mixed
with rue and rosemary. Then mix a cake of flour, olive-oil, and white
sugar; every maiden having an equal share in the making and the expense
of it. Afterwards, it must be cut into equal pieces, each one marking
the piece as she cuts it with the initials of her name. It is then to be
baked one hour before the fire, not a word being spoken the whole time,
and the maidens sitting with their arms and knees across. Each piece of
cake is then to be wrapped up in a sheet of paper, on which each maiden
shall write the love part of Solomon's Songs. If she put this under her
pillow, she will dream true. She will see her future husband and every
one of her children, and will know, besides, whether her family will be
poor or prosperous--a comfort to her, or the contrary.
"Midsummer.--Take three roses, smoke them with sulphur, and exactly at
three in the day, bury one of the roses under a yew tree; the second
in a newly-made grave, and put the third under your pillow for three
nights, and at the end of that period burn it in a fire of charcoal.
Your dreams during that time will be prophetic of your future destiny,
and, what is still more curious and valuable (Mother Bridget loquitur),
the man whom you are to wed, will know no peace till he comes and visits
you. Besides this, you will perpetually haunt his dreams.
"St. John's Eve.--Make a new pincushion of the very best black velvet
(no inferior quality will answer the purpose), and on one side stick
your name in full length with the very smallest pins that can be bought
(none other will do). On the other side, make a cross with some very
large pins, and surround it with a circle. Put this into your stocking
when you take it off at night, and hang it up at the foot of the bed.
All your future life will pass before you in a dream.
"First New Moon of the Year.--On the first new moon in the year, take a
pint of clear springwater 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--
Chequer'd 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!'
"Twenty-ninth of February.--This day, as it only occurs once in four
years, is peculiarly auspicious to those who desire to have a glance at
futurity, especially to young maidens burning with anxiety to know the
appearance and complexion of their future lords. The charm to be adopted
is the following: Stick twenty-seven of the smallest pins that are made,
three by three, into a tallow candle. Light it up at the wrong end, and
then place it in a candlestick made out of clay, which must be drawn
from a virgin's grave. Place this on the chimney-place, in the left-hand
corner, exactly as the clock strikes twelve, and go to bed immediately.
When the candle is burnt out, take the pins and put them into your
left-shoe; and before nine nights have elapsed your fate will be
revealed to you."
We have now taken a hasty review of the various modes of seeking to
discover the future, especially as practised in modern times. The main
features of the folly appear essentially the same in all countries.
National character and peculiarities operate some difference of
interpretation. The mountaineer makes the natural phenomena which he
most frequently witnesses prognosticative of the future. The dweller in
the plains, in a similar manner, seeks to know his fate among the signs
of the things that surround him, and tints his superstition with the
hues of his own clime. The same spirit animates them all--the same
desire to know that which Infinite Mercy has concealed. There is but
little probability that the curiosity of mankind in this respect will
ever be wholly eradicated. Death and ill-fortune are continual bugbears
to the weak-minded, the irreligious, and the ignorant; and while
such exist in the world, divines will preach upon its impiety and
philosophers discourse upon its absurdity in vain. Still, it is evident
that these follies have greatly diminished. Soothsayers and prophets
have lost the credit they formerly enjoyed, and skulk in secret now
where they once showed their faces in the blaze of day. So far there is
manifest improvement.