TABLE SUPERSTITIONS.
Thirteen at Table--Salt-spilling--The Knife--Bread, and other
Articles of Food--Wishing Bones--Tea-leaves--Singing before
Breakfast--Shaking Hands across the Table.
It is frequently found that even strong-minded persons are not exempt
from the prejudice against sitting down to dinner when there are only
thirteen present. Many amusing anecdotes are recorded of the devices
resorted to for avoiding the consequences supposed to be incurred by
the neglect of this superstition--the notion being that one of the
thirteen, generally the youngest, will die within the next twelve
months. To avoid, therefore, any such contingency, many persons,
should they be disappointed in one of their guests, have the empty
place filled by a child, and should one not always be forthcoming, no
slight inconvenience is occasionally produced. Not very long ago a
case was recorded in which a lady, not being able at the last moment
to make up the number fourteen, had her favourite cat seated at the
table, hoping thereby to break the fatal spell attaching to the
unlucky number thirteen.
The origin popularly assigned to this widespread superstition is
the fact that thirteen was the number at the Last Supper, Judas
being the thirteenth. A correspondent of the _Gentleman's Magazine_,
however, writing at the close of the last century, says that it is
"founded on the calculations adhered to by the insurance offices,
which presume that out of thirteen persons, taken indiscriminately,
one will die within a year." But this is not the probable origin,
that which connects it with the Last Supper being no doubt the
correct one. Some, says Lord Lyttelton, in _Notes and Queries_,
have carried the superstition "to the extent of disliking the
number thirteen at all times; but the commoner form limits it to
Friday--not that there is any ground for fact in this, for the Last
Supper was on the fifth, not the sixth day of the week. Sailors are
held somewhat superstitious, and I knew an eminent naval officer who
actually would walk out of the room when the conjunction happened
on a Friday, after the death of the wife and eldest daughter, both
of which events were preceded by the said conjunction." Among other
instances of this piece of superstition, we may quote the following,
related by Addison in the _Spectator_:--"I remember," he says, "I
was one in a mixed assembly that was full of wine and mirth, when on
a sudden an old woman unluckily observed that there were thirteen
of us in company. This remark struck a panic terror into several
who were present, insomuch that one or two of the ladies were going
to leave the room; but a friend of mine, taking notice that one of
our female companions was likely to become a mother, affirmed there
were fourteen in the room, and that instead of portending that one
in the company should die, it plainly foretold that one of them
should be born. Had not my friend found this expedient to break the
omen, I question not but half the women in the company should have
fallen sick that very night." Again, we may give another anecdote
recorded by Rachel, the celebrated _tragédienne_. On her return from
Egypt, in the spring of 1857, she installed herself in a villa in
the neighbourhood of Montpellier. There she received a visit from
the poet Ponsard and Arséne Houssaye, the latter of whom was making
a tour as inspector of the Departmental Museums. "Do you recollect
the dinner we had at the house of Victor Hugo, at the close of the
repetition of _L'Angelo_?" she said to the former. "You remember
there were _thirteen_ of us. There was Hugo and his wife, you and
your wife, Rebecca and I, Girardin and his wife, and some others.
Well! where to-day are the thirteen? Victor Hugo and his wife are
in Jersey; your wife is dead; Madame de Girardin is dead; my poor
Rebecca is dead; Gerard de Nerval, Oradie, Alfred de Musset are
dead. I--say no more. There remain but Girardin and you. Adieu! my
friends. Never laugh at thirteen at a table!" Anecdotes, indeed,
relating to this superstition are without number, and form many an
amusing episode in the lives of noted characters. It may be mentioned
here that the number thirteen is considered ominous in other
ways. Fuller, by way of example, tells us how a covetous courtier
complained to King Edward VI. that Christ College, Cambridge, was a
superstitious foundation, consisting of a master and twelve fellows,
in imitation of Christ and His twelve Apostles. He, therefore,
advised the king to take away one or two fellowships, so as to
dissolve that unlucky number. "Oh, no," replied the king, "I have a
better way than that to mar their conceit; I will add a thirteenth
fellowship to them," which he accordingly did.
Another equally popular superstition is the ill-luck supposed
to attach to salt-spilling: one notion being that to upset the
salt-cellar while in the act of handing it to any one is a sign of an
impending quarrel between the parties. It is also said to indicate
sorrow or trouble to the person spilling it, and to counteract the
evil consequences of this unlucky act one should fling some salt over
the shoulder. Gay speaks of this popular fancy in the fable of the
"Farmer's Wife and the Raven":--
"The salt was spilt, to me it fell,
Then to contribute to my loss,
My knife and fork were laid across."
Indeed constant allusions are found to this widespread superstition
both in our old and modern writers. Gayton, describing two friends,
says:--
"I have two friends of either sex, which do
Eat little salt, or none, yet are friends too,
Of both which persons I can truly tell,
They are of patience most invincible
Whom out of temper no mischance at all
Can put--no, if towards them the salt should fall."
This piece of folk-lore dates back up to the time of the Romans, and
at the present day is not limited to our own country. It has been
suggested that it may have originated from the circumstance that
salt was formerly used in sacrifices, and that to spill it when once
placed on the head of the victim was regarded as a bad omen. Bailey,
however, assigns a very different reason, telling us that salt was
considered by the ancients incorruptible, and on this account was
made the symbol of friendship. If it, therefore, was spilt, the
persons between whom it happened thought their friendship would not
be of long duration.
Some people dislike even so much as to put salt on another person's
plate, considering this act equivalent to wishing one's neighbour
misfortune. Hence there is a well-known couplet:--
"Help me to salt,
Help me to sorrow."
A correspondent of _Notes and Queries_ relates how one day he offered
to help an old Highland lady at dinner to some salt from the cellar,
which stood much nearer to him than to her; when she gravely put
back his hand, and drew away her plate, saying at the same time, with
a kind of shudder, between her teeth, "Help me to salt, help me to
sorrow." The ill-luck may be averted by a second help. Salt has also
been considered a powerful safeguard against evil spirits; and in
Scotland it was once customary in brewing to throw a handful of salt
on the top of the mash to ward off witches. Again, as an interesting
illustration of the change which has passed over our domestic
manners, we may quote the phrase "to sit above the salt," that is,
in a place of honour, whereby a marked and invidious distinction
was formerly maintained among those at the same table. A large
salt-cellar was usually placed about the middle of a long table,
the places above which were assigned to the guests of distinction,
those below to inferiors and poor relations. It argues little for
the delicacy of our ancestors that they should have permitted such
ill-natured distinctions at their board; often, as it has been said,
placing their guests "below the salt" for no better purpose than that
of mortifying them. Hence Ben Jonson, speaking of the characteristics
of an insolent coxcomb, says:--"His fashion is not to take knowledge
of him that is beneath him in clothes. He never drinks below the
salt."
Among the many other odd items of folk-lore associated with the
table, we may mention in the next place those relating to the knife.
Thus, to let a knife drop is a sign that a visitor is coming to the
house; and to lay the knife and fork crosswise on one's plate is an
omen that crosses and troubles will soon occur. Equally unlucky,
too, is it to give any kind of knife away, for, as Gay in his
"Shepherd's Week" says:--
"But woe is me! such presents luckless prove,
For knives, they tell me, always sever love."
Indeed, this superstition is not confined to a knife, but extends
to any sharp or cutting instrument, such as a pair of scissors, a
razor, &c. To avoid the danger of such a misfortune, some trifling
recompense must be made in return. This superstition was confuted
by a versifier of the last century--the Rev. Samuel Bishop--who
presented a knife to his wife on her fifteenth wedding-day, with
a copy of some very clever verses of which the following are a
specimen:--
"A knife, dear girl, cuts love, they say,
Mere modish love perhaps it may;
For any tool of any kind
Can separate what was never joined;
The knife that cuts our love in two
Will have much tougher work to do;
Must cut your softness, worth, and spirit,
Down to the vulgar size of merit," &c.
Some consider it unlucky to find a knife, from a notion that it will
bring ill-luck to them; while others again often place a knife near
a sleeping child as a charm to preserve it from danger, a belief to
which Herrick thus refers:--
"Let the superstitious wife
Near the child's heart lay a knife;
Point be up, and haft be down;
While she gossips in the town.
This 'mongst other mystic charms
Keeps the sleeping child from harms."
Even the loaf of bread, too, without which the most frugal board
would be incomplete, has not escaped without its quota of folk-lore.
Thus, many a housewife still marks the sign of the cross upon her
loaf before placing it in the oven, just as the Durham butcher does
to the shoulder of a sheep or lamb after taking off the skin--the
notion probably being to protect it against the injurious influence
of witchcraft. In many parts of Scotland peasants were formerly in
the habit of making a cross on their tools, considering that by so
doing they would be rendered safe against the mischievous pranks of
the fairy folks as they went on their midnight errands. Again, if
a loaf accidentally parts in the hand while an unmarried lady is
cutting it, this either prognosticates that she will not be married
during the next twelve months, or, what is still worse, that there
will be a dissension of some kind in the family. Some, too, have a
superstitious objection to turning a loaf upside-down after cutting
it. Herrick refers to the custom of carrying a crust of bread in the
pocket for luck's sake--a practice which is not quite obsolete:--
"If ye fear to be affrighted
When ye are, by chance, benighted;
In your pocket for a trust
Carry nothing but a crust,
For that holy piece of bread
Charms the danger and the dread."
While speaking of bread it may not be inappropriate to refer to a
few other articles of fare around which superstition has cast its
mantle. Thus, eggs have an extensive folk-lore both in this and other
countries. Many persons, for instance, after eating an egg take
special care to crush the shell; the omission of this ceremony, as
they fancy, being attended with ill-luck. Sir Thomas Browne informs
us that the real reason is to prevent witchcraft: "lest witches
should draw or prick their names therein, and veneficiously mischief
their person, they broke the shell." It is also considered a bad
omen to bring eggs into the house after dark, and many persons avoid
burning egg-shells lest the hens should cease to lay. According to a
superstition current in the West of England, one should always make
a hole through an egg-shell before throwing it away, as, unless this
is done, there is a danger of witches using them to put to sea for
the purpose of wrecking ships. Beaumont and Fletcher in their "Women
Pleased" allude to this notion:--
"The devil should think of purchasing that egg-shell
To victual out a witch for the Burmoothies."
Just as it is considered, too, unlucky to bring eggs into the house
after dark, so the same prejudice exists with regard to taking them
out. One day, we are told in the _Stamford Mercury_ (Oct. 29, 1852),
a person in want of some eggs called at a farmhouse and inquired
of the good woman whether she had any eggs to sell, to which she
replied that she had a few scores to dispose of. "Then I'll take them
home with me in the cart," was his answer, to which she somewhat
indignantly replied, "That you will not; don't you know the sun has
gone down? You are welcome to the eggs at a proper hour of the day,
but I would not let them go out of the house after the sun is set on
any consideration whatever." A Norfolk superstition warns persons
against eating the marrow of pork lest they should go mad; and, in
the North of England, we are told that should the meat for dinner
shrink in the pot, it presages a downfall in life. Should it swell,
on the contrary, to a large size, it denotes that the head of the
family will be prosperous in his undertakings. These odd fancies
vary in different localities, and in out-of-the-way districts where
the railway has not yet penetrated, they still retain their hold on
the primitive and uncultivated minds of our agricultural peasantry.
At the same time, however, occasional survivals of many of these
old worn-out superstitions crop up in unexpected quarters, showing
they are not completely dead. Thus, our children still practise
their divination by means of the "wishing bone" of a fowl, and
are, moreover, ever on the alert to discover, what they consider,
infallible omens from any article of food which nursery tradition has
stamped as possessing such remarkable qualities. As we have already
pointed out in another chapter, tea-leaves often afford to both old
and young a constant source of amusement; and we may, now and then,
find some elderly damsel, who still aspires to enter one day on the
marriage state, taking care to put the milk into her tea before the
sugar lest she should lose her chance of securing a sweetheart. Mrs.
Latham, too, tells us how matrimonial fortunes are often told by
seers at home from the grounds or sediment remaining at the bottom of
a tea-cup; and where to unenlightened eyes nothing is apparent but
a little black dust floating in a slop, those who have the wit to
do so may discern a hidden meaning. Again, among the host of small
superstitions connected with our daily meals, one at the very outset
relates to breakfast; there being a widespread belief that if a
person sings before breakfast, he will cry before supper. This notion
probably has some reference to another popular one, namely, that high
spirits forebode evil, proving the forerunner of adversity. Many
anecdotes illustrative of this theory have been recorded at various
times. In the last act of _Romeo and Juliet_, Romeo is introduced as
saying:--
"If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand;
My bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne;
And all this day an unaccustomed spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts."
In the evidence given at the inquest upon the bodies of four persons
killed by an explosion at a firework manufactory in Bermondsey,
October 12th, 1849, one of the witnesses stated:--"On Friday they
were all very merry, and Mrs. B. said she feared something would
happen before they went to bed, because they were so happy."
If, in a social gathering of any kind, an unmarried person is
inadvertently placed between a man and his wife, it is an indication
that the individual so seated will be married within the course
of a year. Many consider it unlucky to shake hands across the
table; and there is also an old superstition mentioned by Grose,
that, in eating, to miss the mouth and let the food fall is a bad
omen, betokening approaching sickness. Once more, if a person in
rising from table overturns his chair, this is not a very fortunate
occurrence, as it is said to show that he has been speaking untruths.
Without further extending our list of the superstitious beliefs and
practices that have clustered round the table--to which many of our
readers will doubtless be able to make their own additions--we may
briefly sum up this branch of the subject by saying:--
"'Tis a history
Handed from ages down; a nurse's tale,
Which children open-eyed and mouth'd devour,
And thus, as garrulous ignorance relates,
We learn it and believe."