Folk-lore of the Looking-glass—Luck of Edenhall—Clock-falling—Chairs—Beds—The Bellows.

The desire to gather omens from the various surrounding objects of every-day life has naturally included articles of furniture; and hence we find signs and portents attached to certain of these which are implicitly credited by many, from the highest to the lowest, who, notwithstanding, would consider themselves deeply insulted if the idea of their being superstitious were only so much as hinted at by some sceptical friend. Among the most common of these odd fancies are those relating to the looking-glass. As a piece of furniture this is most necessary, and its very importance is, perhaps, the chief reason why superstition has invested it with those mysterious qualities which certainly do not belong in the same ratio to chairs and tables. A chair, however beautiful and costly in its manufacture, may nevertheless be cruelly broken with perfect impunity; whereas, if some wretched, dilapidated looking-glass is accidentally cracked, the inmates of the house are thoroughly discomposed, from a conviction that such an event is sure to be followed by misfortune of some kind or other. In Cornwall, the supposed penalty for such an offence is seven years of sorrow; and a Yorkshire proverb informs us that this unfortunate occurrence entails "seven years' trouble, but no want." It has also been said to foretell the speedy decease of the master of the house; and in Scotland it is regarded as an infallible sign that some member of the family will shortly die. It has been suggested that this popular superstition dates very many years back, and probably originated in the terror inspired by the destruction of the reflected human image—an interesting illustration of how the formation of certain ideas is often determined by mere analogy. A similar style of thinking also underlies the mediÆval necromancer's practice of making a waxen image of his enemy, and shooting at it with arrows in order to bring about his death.

The folk-lore, however, of the looking-glass does not end here; for many consider it the height of ill-luck to see the new moon reflected in a looking-glass or through a window-pane; and some mothers studiously prevent their youngest child looking in one until a year old. It is also associated with marriage and death. Thus, in the South of England it is regarded as a bad omen for a bride on her wedding morning to take a last peep in the glass when she is completely dressed in her bridal attire, before starting for the church. Hence very great care is generally taken to put on a glove or some slight article of adornment after the final lingering and reluctant look has been taken in the mirror. The idea is that any young lady who is too fond of the looking-glass will be unfortunate when married. This is by no means the only occasion on which superstitious fancy interferes with the grown-up maiden's peeps into the looking-glass. Thus, Swedish young ladies are afraid of looking in the glass after dark, or by candle-light, lest by so doing they should forfeit the goodwill of the other sex.

The practice of covering the looking-glass, or removing it from the chamber of death, still prevails in some parts of England—the notion being that "all vanity, all care for earthly beauty, are over with the deceased." It has also been suggested that, as the invisible world trenches closely upon the visible one in the chamber of death, a superstitious dread is felt of some spiritual being imaging himself forth in the blank surface of the mirror. Mr. Baring Gould considers that the true reason for shrouding the looking-glass before a funeral was that given him in Warwickshire, where there is a popular notion that if a person looks into a mirror in the chamber of death he will see the corpse looking over his shoulder. Again, Brand informs us that looking-glasses were generally used by magicians "in their superstitious and diabolical operations." He quotes an old authority, who says:—"Some magicians, being curious to find out by the help of a looking-glass, or a glass full of water, a thing that lies hidden, make choice of young maids to discern therein those images or sights which a person defiled cannot see." Sometimes, too, our ancestors dipped a looking-glass into the water when they were anxious to ascertain what would become of a sick person. Accordingly as he looked well or ill in the glass, when covered with the drops of water, so they foretold whether he would recover or not. Mirrors were also regarded by our forefathers as the most effective agencies in divining secrets and bringing to light hidden mysteries. Thus, there is a tradition that the Gunpowder Plot was discovered by Dr. John Dee with his magic mirror. We find in a prayer-book, printed by Baskett in 1737, an engraving which depicts the following scene:—In the centre is a circular looking-glass, in which is the reflection of the Houses of Parliament by night, and a person entering carrying 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:—

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:—

This is among the errors noticed by Sir Thomas Browne, who says, "And although it be said that poison will break a Venice glass, yet have we not met with any of that nature. Were there a truth herein, it were the best preservative for princes and persons exalted to such fears, and surely far better than divers now in use." It may not be inappropriate here to refer to the well-known tradition connected with the "Luck of Edenhall." From time immemorial there has been a current belief that any one who had the courage to rush upon a fairy festival and snatch from the merry throng their drinking-glass, would find it prove to him a constant source of good fortune, supposing he could carry it across a running stream. A glass has been carefully preserved at Edenhall, Cumberland, which was in all probability a sacred chalice; but the legend is that the butler, one day going to draw water, surprised a company of fairies who were amusing themselves on the grass near the well. He seized the glass that was standing upon its margin, which the fairies tried to recover, but, after an ineffectual struggle, they vanished, crying:—

The good fortune, however, of this ancient house was never so much endangered as by the Duke of Wharton, who, on one occasion having drunk the contents of this magic glass, inadvertently dropped it, and here most assuredly would for ever have terminated the luck of Edenhall, if the butler, who stood at his elbow to receive the empty glass, had not happily caught it in his napkin.

Referring, however, more particularly to our subject, we find several items of folk-lore associated with the clock. Thus, in the North of England, there is a superstition called "Clock-falling," the idea being that if a woman enters a house after her confinement, and before being churched, the house-clock will immediately fall on its face. So strong was this belief in years past that a woman would never think of transgressing this rule under any circumstances whatever. In some places the house-clock is stopped on the occasion of a death, no doubt to remind the survivors that with the deceased one time is over, and that henceforth the days and hours are no longer of any account to him. A correspondent of Notes and Queries informs us that he knew "an intelligent, well-informed gentleman in Scotland who, among his last injunctions on his death-bed, ordered that as soon as he expired the house-clock was to be stopped, a command which was strictly obeyed." Aubrey also tells us that formerly it was customary for people of a serious turn of mind to say, every time they heard the clock strike, "Lord, grant my last hour may be my best hour."

Chairs, again, have their superstitions. It is regarded as a bad omen, for instance, if, when a person leaves a house, he replaces the chair on which he has been sitting against the wall, the probability being that he will never visit the house again. The chair on which a woman sits after her confinement to receive the congratulations of her friends is popularly termed "a groaning chair," an allusion to which we find in "Poor Robin's Almanack":—

Another article of furniture not without its folk-lore is the bed. Thus some superstitious persons always have their bedsteads placed parallel to the planks of the floor, considering it unlucky to sleep across the boards. Others again pay particular attention to the point of the compass towards which the head should be when in bed, a belief we find existing even among the Hindoos, who believe that to sleep with the head to the north will cause one's days to be shortened. To lie in the direction of the south they say is productive of longevity, whereas the east and west, it is asserted, are calculated to bring riches and change of scene respectively. Various theories in this country have been, at different times, started as to the proper position of the bedstead during the hours of sleep, which find ready acceptance among those who are ever ready to grasp any new idea, however fanciful it may be. A correspondent of The Builder, writing on the subject, says:—"So far as my own observations have gone, I know that my sleep is always more sound when my head is placed to the north. There are persons whom I know, the head of whose bed is to the north, and who, to awake early, will reverse their usual position in the bed, but without knowing the reason why, beyond 'that they could always wake earlier,' the sleep being more broken." An eminent physician in Scotland states that, when he failed by every other prescription to bring sleep to invalid children, he recommended their couches or little beds to be turned due north and south—the head of the child being placed towards the north—a process which he had always found successful in promoting sleep. After all, however, as has been so often said, the best prescription for a good night's rest is a healthy body and a sound mind.

The well-known phrase, "to get out of bed the wrong way," or "with the left leg foremost," is generally said of an ill-tempered person; the term having originated in an ancient superstition, which regarded it as unlucky to place the left foot first on the ground on getting out of bed.

Once more, as a mark of the simplicity of ancient manners, it was customary for persons even of the highest rank to sleep together, an allusion to which practice occurs in Henry V., where Exeter says:—

In conclusion, we may take one further illustration on this subject from that useful little article, the bellows, to place which on a table is considered extremely unlucky, and few servants will either do it or allow it to be done.