There is, I
believe, a degree of superstition lurking in every mind; and I doubt
if any one can thoroughly examine all his secret notions and impulses,
without detecting it, hidden, perhaps, even from himself. It seems, in
fact, to be a part of our nature, like instinct in animals, acting
independently of our reason. It is often found existing in lofty
natures, especially those that are poetical and aspiring. A great and
extraordinary poet of our day, whose life and writings evince a mind
subject to powerful exaltations, is said to believe in omens and
secret intimations. Caesar, it is well known, was greatly under the
influence of such belief; and Napoleon had his good and evil days, and
his presiding star.
As to the worthy parson, I have no doubt that he is strongly inclined
to superstition. He is naturally credulous, and passes so much of his
time searching out popular traditions and supernatural tales, that his
mind has probably become infected by them. He has lately been immersed
in the Demonolatria of Nicholas Remigus, concerning supernatural
occurrences in Lorraine, and the writings of Joachimus Camerius,
called by Vossius the Phoenix of Germany; and he entertains the ladies
with stories from them, that make them almost afraid to go to bed at
night.
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