Folk-lore of Shakespeare by Thomas Firminger Thiselton Dyer (year 2 reading books .txt) đź“–
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A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,
Any annoyance in that precious sense!
Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.”
See also “Henry V.” (iv. 1). In these two passages, however, the correct reading is probably “mote.”[573]
Serpent. A term used by our old writers to signify a serpent was “a worm,” which is still found in the north of England in the same sense. It is used several times by Shakespeare; as, for instance, in “Measure for Measure” (iii. 1), where the Duke, addressing Claudio, says:
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm.”
This passage also illustrates an error very prevalent in days gone by, that the forked tongue of the serpent tribe was their instrument of offence, without any thought of the teeth or fangs, which are its real weapons.[574] Again, the “blind-worm” or “slow-worm”—a little snake with very small eyes, falsely supposed to be venomous—is spoken of in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (ii. 2), in that charming passage where the fairies are represented as singing to their queen, Titania:
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong,
Come not near our fairy queen.”
In “Macbeth” (iv. 1), among the ingredients of the witches’ caldron are
To quote a further allusion, Shakespeare, in “Timon of Athens” (iv. 3), speaks of
Massinger employs the same term in his “Parliament of Love” (iv. 2):
That sees his son stung by a snake to death,
May, with more justice, stay his vengeful hand,
And let the worm escape, than you vouchsafe him
A minute to repent.”[575]
There was an old notion that the serpent caused death without pain, a popular fancy which Shakespeare has introduced in his “Antony and Cleopatra” (v. 2):
That kills and pains not?”
The term “worm” was also occasionally used to signify a “poor creature,” as also was the word “snake.” Thus, in the “Taming of the Shrew” (v. 2), Katharina says:
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason, haply, more.”
So, in “As You Like It” (iv. 3), Rosalind uses “snake” in the sense of reproach: “Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame snake.”
The serpent, as the emblem of ingratitude, is alluded to by King Lear (ii. 4), who, referring to his daughter, says how she
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart:—
All the stor’d vengeances of heaven fall
On her ingrateful top!”
According to a popular belief, still credited, a poisonous bite could be cured by the blood of the viper which darted the poison. Thus, in “Richard II.” (i. 1), Mowbray says:
Pierc’d to the soul with slander’s venom’d spear,
The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood
Which breath’d this poison.”
In Cornwall it is still believed that the dead body of a serpent, bruised on the wound it has occasioned, is an infallible remedy for its bite.[576] Hence has originated the following rhyme:
Yet bears a balsam too.”
The old notion that the snake, in casting off its slough, or skin, annually, is supposed to regain new vigor and fresh youth, is alluded to by King Henry (“Henry V.,” iv. 1), who speaks of “casted slough and fresh legerity”—legerity meaning lightness, nimbleness. In “Twelfth Night” (ii. 5), in the letter which Malvolio finds, there is this passage: “to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh.” One of the most useful miracles which St. Patrick is reported to have performed was his driving the venomous reptiles out of Ireland, and forbidding them to return. This tradition is probably alluded to by King Richard (“Richard II.,” ii. 1):
We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns,
Which live like venom, where no venom else,
But only they, hath privilege to live.”
The way, we are told, by which the saint performed this astounding feat of his supernatural power was by means of a drum. Even spiders, too, runs the legend, were included in this summary process of excommunicating the serpent race. One of the customs, therefore, observed on St. Patrick’s day, is visiting Croagh Patrick. This sacred hill is situated in the county of Mayo, and is said to have been the spot chosen by St. Patrick for banishing the serpents and other noxious animals into the sea.
In “Julius Cæsar” (ii. 1), where Brutus says,
And that craves wary walking.”
we may compare the popular adage,
Wakes the ether (i. e., adder) and blooms the whin.”[577]
Spider. This little creature, which, in daily life, is seldom noticed except for its cobweb, the presence of which in a house generally betokens neglect, has, however, an interesting history, being the subject of many a curious legend and quaint superstition. Thus, it has not escaped the all-pervading eye of Shakespeare, who has given us many curious scraps of folk-lore concerning it. In days gone by the web of the common house-spider was much in request for stopping the effusion of blood; and hence Bottom, in addressing one of his fairy attendants in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (iii. 1), says: “I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.”
Its medicinal virtues, however, do not end here, for, in Sussex[578] it is used in cases of jaundice, many an old doctress prescribing “a live spider rolled up in butter.” It is stated, too, that the web is narcotic, and has been administered internally in certain cases of fever, with success.[579] As a remedy for ague it has been considered most efficacious. Some years ago a lady in the south of Ireland was celebrated far and near for her cure of this disorder. Her remedy was a large house-spider taken alive, enveloped in treacle or preserve. Of course, the parties were carefully kept in ignorance of what the wonderful remedy was.[580]
According to a universal belief, spiders were formerly considered highly venomous, in allusion to which notion King Richard II. (iii. 2), in saluting the “dear earth” on which he stands, after “late tossing on the breaking seas,” accosts it thus:
Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense;
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with usurping steps do trample thee.”
Again, Leontes, in the “Winter’s Tale” (ii. 1), remarks:
A spider steep’d.”
In “Cymbeline” (iv. 2) and “Richard III.” (i. 2) Shakespeare classes it with adders and toads; and in the latter play (i. 3), when Queen Margaret is hurling imprecations on her enemies, she is turned from her encounter with Gloster by a remark made by Queen Elizabeth; and while a pitying spirit seems for a minute to supplant her rage, she addresses her successor in these words:
Why strew’st thou sugar on that bottled spider,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?”
In another part of the same play (iv. 4) the epithet “bottled” is again applied in a similar manner by Queen Elizabeth:
Ritson, on these two passages, has the following remarks on the term, bottled spider: “A large, bloated, glossy spider, supposed to contain venom proportionate to its size.”
The origin of the silvery threads of gossamer which are so frequently seen extending from bush to bush was formerly unknown. Spenser, for instance, speaks of them as “scorched dew;” and Thomson, in his “Autumn,” mentions “the filmy threads of dew evaporate;” which probably, says Mr. Patterson,[581] refers to the same object. The gossamer is now, however, known to be the production of a minute spider. It is twice mentioned by Shakespeare, but not in connection with the little being from which it originates. One of the passages is in “Romeo and Juliet” (ii. 6):
That idles in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.”
The other occurs in “King Lear” (iv. 6), where Edgar accosts his father, after his supposed leap from that
Looks fearfully in the confined deep.”
He says:
So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou’dst shiver’d like an egg.”
In each case it is expressive of extreme lightness. Nares, in his “Glossary” (vol. i. p. 378), considers that the term “gossamer” originally came from the French gossampine, the cotton-tree, and is equivalent to cotton-wool. He says that it also means any light, downy matter, such as the flying seeds of thistles and other plants, and, in poetry, is not unfrequently used to denote the long, floating cobwebs seen in fine weather. In the above passage from “King Lear” he thinks it has the original sense, and in the one from “Romeo and Juliet” probably the last. Some are of opinion that the word is derived from goss, the gorse or furze.[582] In Germany the popular belief attributes the manufacture of the gossamer to the dwarfs and elves. Of King Oberon, it may be remembered, we are told,
Made of tinsel gossamer,
Bestarred over with a few
Diamond drops of morning dew.”
Hogg, too, introduces it as a vehicle fit for the fairy bands, which he describes as
In skiffs of yielding gossamer.”
Toad. Among the vulgar errors of Shakespeare’s day was the belief that the head of the toad contained a stone possessing great medicinal virtues. In “As You Like It,” (ii. 1), the Duke says:
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.”
Lupton, in his “One Thousand Notable Things,” says that “a toad-stone, called Crepaudina, touching any part envenomed by the bite of a rat, wasp, spider, or other venomous beast, ceases the pain and swelling thereof.” In the Londesborough
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