Our English word _luck_, according to some authorities, is of
Scandinavian origin, while others consider it to be the past tense of
an Anglo-Saxon verb meaning “to catch.” Luck signifies, therefore, _a
good catch_, and is analogous to the German _Glück_. It has been aptly
remarked that very many so-called strong-minded persons, who would not
for a moment admit that they are superstitious, are yet not insensible
to the fascination of this little monosyllable. As Christian people, we
profess to believe implicitly in Divine Providence; yet often because we
cannot understand its workings, we so far relapse into paganism as to
worship secretly the Goddess Fortune. The fact is, that superstition is
an ineradicable element of human nature. The combined forces of religion,
education, philosophy, and common sense are allied in a perpetual
warfare against it. The thousand and one little credulities which form
such an important part of modern folk-lore may be intrinsically the
veriest whimsies and trifles, but they are evidence of the tenacity of
traditional beliefs.
The modern sailor carries in his pocket a bit of sealskin, or an eagle’s
beak, to shield him from the lightning; and the Southern negro has his
rabbit’s foot, and a host of other outlandish fetiches, all for luck.
The millions of American negroes have, indeed, a deeply-rooted love for
the supernatural, and their character exhibits a peculiar blending of
superstition and religion. Among the mixed colored races in Missouri,
for example, we find a bewildering jumble of African Voodoo credulities,
the traditions of the American Indian, and religious fanaticism. Thus,
in “Voodoo Tales,” by Mary A. Owen, we read of an old crone who kept her
medicine-pipe and eagle-bone whistle alongside of her books of devotion,
carried a rosary and rabbit’s foot in the same pocket, and wore a saint’s
toe dangling on her bosom, and a luck-ball under her right arm.
It has been well said that only those whose minds are predisposed to
entertain idle fancies are wont to regard misfortune as a natural
sequence of the legion of alleged evil omens. Yet we know that in all
ages and countries such notions have prevailed. The ancient Chaldeans
made use of magic formulæ to ward off ill-luck, and Tacitus relates that
the most trivial events were regarded as portentous by the Roman people.
What a contrast to the credulity of a superstitious age is afforded by
the often quoted remark of Cato the Censor, who refused to regard it as
ominous when informed that his boots had been gnawed by rats! “If the
boots had gnawed the rats,” he said, “it might have portended evil.”
There is a deal of philosophy in the Irish saying, “Every man has bad
luck awaiting him some time or other, but leave the bad luck to the last;
perhaps it may never come.”
In attributing the sundry and divers misfortunes of our lives to bad
luck, we surely ignore the fact that these same unwelcome experiences
are often the logical sequences of our own shortcomings, and that the
fickle goddess cannot with fairness be made always to masquerade as our
scapegoat.