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Jerome K. Jerome - "Malvina of Brittany"

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Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions

C >> Charles Mackay >> Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions




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!

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