The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 11, July, 1835Various
General
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 11, July, 1835
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Women are much more superstitious, generally, as I have already
remarked, than men. They much more readily believe in dreams, visions
and miraculous interferences. Women deeply in love, have often been
known to die from the effects of unfavorable dreams about a distant
lover, in a perilous situation. McNish, in his interesting work on the
Philosophy of Sleep, tells us of a young lady, a native of Ross-shire,
who was deeply in love with an officer who accompanied Sir John Moore
in the Peninsular war. The constant danger to which he was exposed,
had, of course, a very great effect on her spirits. One night, after
falling asleep, she imagined she saw her lover pale, bloody, and
wounded in the breast, enter her apartment. He drew aside the curtains
of the bed, and with a look of the utmost mildness, informed her that
he had been slain in battle, desiring her at the same time to comfort
herself, and not take his death too seriously to heart. "It is
needless," says McNish, "to say what influence this vision had upon a
mind so replete with woe. It withered it entirely, and the unfortunate
girl died a few days thereafter." Many such instances as these might
be adduced, where all the explanations and consolations of philosophy
have been rejected, and the unfortunate lady has actually died from
the grief produced by the confident expectation of the realization of
a dream or vision. I can well imagine the eagerness with which the
females of antiquity would crowd around their seers, and their
oracles, to have unveiled to them the mysteries of the future. Even
now, women are much more disposed to consult gypsies and fortune
tellers, than men. But they are most apt to incline to these petty
superstitions, if I may use the expression, when under the influence
of strong passion, such as that of love. We all know, that one deeply
in love, is apt to be a little superstitious; and many there are
besides the Phebe of Irving, who can wander forth in the "stilly
night," when the moon is pouring her silvery radiance over the world,
and kneel upon the "stone in the meadow," and repeat the old
traditional rhyme
"All hail to thee, moon, all hail;
I pray to thee, good moon, now show to me
The youth who my future husband shall be."
_2nd. Religious Wants_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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