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":—

Indeed constant allusions are found to this widespread superstition both in our old and modern writers. Gayton, describing two friends, says:—

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:—

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:—

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:—

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:—

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:—

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:—

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:—

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:—