Domestic folk-loreThiselton-Dyer, T. F. (Thomas Firminger)
History
Domestic folk-lore
Thiselton-Dyer, T. F. (Thomas Firminger)
Folklore; Superstition
a dark lantern. On the left side there are two men in the costume
of James's time looking into the mirror--one evidently the king,
the other probably Sir Kenelm Digby. On the right side, at the top,
is the eye of Providence darting a ray on to the mirror; and below
are some legs and hoofs, as if evil spirits were flying out of the
picture. This plate, says a correspondent of _Notes and Queries_,
"would seem to represent the method by which, under Providence (as
is evidenced by the eye), the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot was at
that time seriously believed to have been effected. The tradition,
moreover, must have been generally believed, or it never could have
found its way into a prayer-book printed by the king's printer." It
may be noted, however, that as the fame of Dee's magic mirror was
at its zenith about the time of the Gunpowder Plot, this may have
led to the mirror being adopted as a popular emblem of discovery,
or "throwing light" upon a subject. Hence it has been reasonably
suggested that the mirror in the print may simply be a piece of
artistic design, rather than evidence of its actual employment in the
discovery.
In days gone by, too, it appears to have been customary for both
sexes to wear small looking-glasses--a fantastic fashion much
ridiculed by Ben Jonson and others of his time. Men even wore them
in their hats--an allusion to which custom we find in Ben Jonson's
_Cynthia's Revels_ (Act ii., sc. 1): "Where is your page? Call for
your casting-bottle, and place your mirror in your hat as I told
you." We may infer that this was the very height of affectation by
the manner in which the remark is introduced. While men of fashion
wore mirrors as brooches or ornaments in their hats, ladies carried
them at their girdles or on their breasts. Thus Lovelace makes a lady
say:--
"My lively shade thou ever shalt retaine
In thy inclosed feather-framed glasse."
It was a popular superstition in former years that fine glass, such
as that of Venice, would break if poison were put into it. To this
curious notion Massinger thus gracefully alludes:--
"Here crystal glasses . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . This pure metal
So innocent is, and faithful to the mistress,
Or master, that possesses it, that rather
Than hold one drop that's venomous, of itself
It flies in pieces, and deludes the traitor."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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