Folk-lore of Shakespeare Part 73

A solemn and even melancholy air was often affected by the beaux of Queen Elizabeth's time, as a refined mark of gentility, a most sad and pathetic allusion to which custom is made by Arthur in "King John" (iv.

1):

"Methinks, n.o.body should be sad but I: Yet, I remember, when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, Only for wantonness."[727]

[727] See Nares's "Glossary," vol. ii. p. 563.

There are frequent references to this fas.h.i.+on in our old writers. Thus, in Ben Jonson's "Every Man in His Humor" (i. 3), we read: "Why, I do think of it; and I will be more proud, and melancholy, and gentlemanlike than I have been, I'll insure you."

CHAPTER XIV.

DEATH AND BURIAL.

From a very early period there has been a belief in the existence of a power of prophecy at that period which precedes death. It took its origin in the a.s.sumed fact that the soul becomes divine in the same ratio as its connection with the body is loosened. It has been urged in support of this theory that at the hour of death the soul is, as it were, on the confines of two worlds, and may possibly at the same moment possess a power which is both prospective and retrospective.

Shakespeare, in "Richard II." (ii. 1), makes the dying Gaunt exclaim, alluding to his nephew, the young and self-willed king:

"Methinks I am a prophet new inspir'd, And thus, expiring, do foretell of him."

Again, the brave Percy, in "1 Henry IV." (v. 4), when in the agonies of death, expresses the same idea:

"O, I could prophesy, But that the earthy and cold hand of death Lies on my tongue."

We may also compare what Nerissa says of Portia's father in "Merchant of Venice" (i. 2), "Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men, at their death, have good inspirations."

Curious to say, this notion may be traced up to the time of Homer. Thus Patroclus prophesies the death of Hector ("Iliad," p. 852): "You yourself are not destined to live long, for even now death is drawing nigh unto you, and a violent fate awaits you-about to be slain in fight by the hands of Achilles." Aristotle tells us that the soul, when on the point of death, foretells things about to happen. Others have sought for the foundation of this belief in the 49th chapter of Genesis: "And Jacob called unto his sons, and said, Gather yourselves together, that I may tell you that which shall befall you in the last days.... And when Jacob had made an end of commanding his sons, he gathered up his feet into the bed, and yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto his people." Whether, however, we accept this origin or not, at any rate it is very certain that the notion in question has existed from the earliest times, being alluded to also by Socrates, Xenophon, and Diodorus Siculus. It still lingers on in Lancas.h.i.+re and other parts of England.

Among other omens of death may be mentioned high spirits, which have been supposed to presage impending death. Thus, in "Romeo and Juliet"

(v. 3), Romeo exclaims:

"How oft, when men are at the point of death, Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death."

This idea is noticed by Ray, who inserts it as a proverb, "It's a lightening before death;" and adds this note: "This is generally observed of sick persons, that a little before they die their pains leave them, and their understanding and memory return to them-as a candle just before it goes out gives a great blaze." It was also a superst.i.tious notion that unusual mirth was a forerunner of adversity.

Thus, in the last act of "Romeo and Juliet" (sc. 1) Romeo comes on, saying:

"If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts."

Immediately, however, a messenger enters to announce Juliet's death.

In "Richard III." (iii. 2), Hastings is represented as rising in the morning in unusually high spirits. Stanley says:

"The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, Were jocund, and suppos'd their state was sure, And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust; But yet, you see, how soon the day o'ercast."

This idea, it may be noted, runs throughout the whole scene. Before dinner-time, Hastings was beheaded.

Once more, in "2 Henry IV." (iv. 2), the same notion is alluded to in the following dialogue:

"_Westmoreland._ Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray.

_Mowbray._ You wish me health in very happy season; For I am, on the sudden, something ill.

_Archbishop._ Against ill chances men are ever merry; But heaviness foreruns the good event.

_Westmoreland._ Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow Serves to say thus, 'Some good thing comes to-morrow.'

_Archbishop._ Believe me, I am pa.s.sing light in spirit.

_Mowbray._ So much the worse, if your own rule be true."

Tytler, in his "History of Scotland," thus speaks of the death of King James I.: "On this fatal evening (Feb. 20, 1437), the revels of the court were kept up to a late hour. The prince himself appears to have been in unusually gay and cheerful spirits. He even jested, if we may believe the contemporary ma.n.u.script, about a prophecy which had declared that a king that year should be slain." Sh.e.l.ley strongly entertained this superst.i.tion: "During all the time he spent in Leghorn, he was in brilliant spirits, to him a sure prognostic of coming evil."

Again, it is a very common opinion that death announces its approach by certain mysterious noises, a notion, indeed, which may be traced up to the time of the Romans, who believed that the genius of death announced his approach by some supernatural warning. In "Troilus and Cressida"

(iv. 4), Troilus says:

"Hark! you are call'd: some say, the Genius so Cries 'Come!' to him that instantly must die."

This superst.i.tion was frequently made use of by writers of bygone times, and often served to embellish, with touching pathos, their poetic sentiment. Thus Flatman, in some pretty lines, has embodied this thought:

"My soul, just now about to take her flight, Into the regions of eternal night, Methinks I hear some gentle spirit say, Be not fearful, come away."

Pope speaks in the same strain:

"Hark! they whisper, angels say, Sister spirit, come away."

Shakespeare, too, further alludes to this idea in "Macbeth" (ii. 3), where, it may be remembered, Lennox graphically describes how, on the awful night in which Duncan is so basely murdered:

"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 woful time."

As in Shakespeare's day, so, too, at the present time, there is perhaps no superst.i.tion so deeply rooted in the minds of many people as the belief in what are popularly termed "death-warnings." Modern folk-lore holds either that a knocking or rumbling in the floor is an omen of a death about to happen, or that dying persons themselves announce their dissolution to their friends in such strange sounds.[728] Many families are supposed to have particular warnings, such as the appearance of a bird, the figure of a tall woman, etc. Such, moreover, are not confined to our own country, but in a variety of forms are found on the Continent. According to another belief, it was generally supposed that when a man was on his death-bed the devil or his agents tried to seize his soul, if it should happen that he died without receiving the sacrament of the Eucharist, or without confessing his sins. Hence, in "2 Henry VI." (iii. 3), the king says:

"O, beat away the busy meddling fiend That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, And from his bosom purge this black despair."

[728] Tylor's "Primitive Culture," 1873, vol. i. p. 145.

In the old Office books of the Church, these "busy meddling fiends" are often represented with great anxiety besieging the dying man; but on the approach of the priest and his attendants, they are shown to display symptoms of despair at their impending discomfiture. Douce[729] quotes from an ancient ma.n.u.script book of devotion, written in the reign of Henry VI., the following prayer to St. George: "Judge for me whan the moste hedyous and d.a.m.nable dragons of h.e.l.le shall be redy to take my poore soule and engloute it in to theyr infernall belyes."

[729] "Ill.u.s.trations of Shakespeare," 1829, pp. 324-326.

Some think that the "pa.s.sing-bell," which was formerly tolled for a person who was dying, was intended to drive away the evil spirit that might be hovering about to seize the soul of the deceased. Its object, however, was probably to bespeak the prayers of the faithful, and to serve as a solemn warning to the living. Shakespeare has given several touching allusions to it. Thus, in Sonnet lxxi. he says:

"No longer mourn for me when I am dead, Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world."

In "2 Henry IV." (i. 1), Northumberland speaks in the same strain:

"Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office: and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Remember'd knolling a departing friend."