28 June - Eve of St. Peter

Those who told me (after I hit my head on the stairwell) that people who have had concussions, however slight, not only tend to feel very, very tired, but also seem to lose interest in life... were not kidding!  So many things to do, and no interest in them at all...

Meanwhile, this is the Eve of the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul, for all the love-lorn maidens out there.

25 April - Saint Mark

“At Alexandria, the birthday of blessed Mark, evangelist, disciple and interpreter of the Apostle St. Peter.  He wrote his gospel at the request of the faithful of Rome, and taking it with him, proceeded to Egypt and founded a church at Alexandria, where he was the first to announce Christ.  Afterwards, being arrested for the faith, he was bound, dragged over stones and endured great afflictions.  Finally he was confined to prison, where, being comforted by the visit of an angel, and even by an apparition of our Lord himself, he was called to the heavenly kingdom in the eighth year of the reign of Nero.”

The Golden Legend says that Mark was a Levite and a Jewish priest. “And when he was christened, he was godson of St. Peter the apostle, and therefore he went with him to Rome.  When St. Peter preached there the gospel, the good people of Rome prayed St. Mark that he would put the gospel in writing, like as St. Peter had preached.”

Peter sent Mark to Alexandria (Egypt) to preach, and such was his success, that Peter made him the city’s bishop, but Mark, not greatly enamored of the prospect, cut off his thumb so that he couldn’t be made a priest.  [It must have grown back, because he has both is thumbs in the picture.]  His self-mutilation didn’t work.  Bishop Mark went on to lead the church in Alexandria.

The usual suspects (idol worshippers) began to plot how they might kill him, whereupon Mark took advantage of the Witness Protection Program, left his Auxiliary Bishop in charge, and moved to another town for two years.  Figuring that they must have got over their ire and moved on with their lives (he was wrong), he returned to Alexandria.

“Now it happened on Easter day, when St. Mark sang Mass, they assembled all and put a cord about his neck, and drew him throughout the city…  And the blood ran upon the stones, and his flesh was torn piecemeal that it lay upon the pavement all bloody.  After this they put him in prison, where an angel came and comforted him, and after came our Lord to visit and comfort him, saying, ‘Peace be to you, Mark, my Evangelist!  Be not in doubt, for I am with you and shall deliver you.’

And on the morn they put the cord about his neck and drew him like they had done before… and when they had drawn, he thanked God and said: ‘Into Thy hands Lord, I commend my spirit’, and he thus saying died. “

He is a patron of notaries and lawyers, and from various miracles, the patron of glaziers, prisoners, and those suffering from neck swellings.  He is invoked against the danger of dying impenitent, skin diseases, and insect bites [keep a little statue of St. Mark on your picnic table this summer].

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While St. Mark’s Eve is considered the optimum time for seeking otherworldly knowledge, if you chose not to trust your nerves last night there is a love charm available today.  It is a little early in the northern hemisphere for sage plants, but if you have one growing on your windowsill (and the theft of a few leaves won’t be noticed), wait until the clock begins to strike the noon hour, then pluck one sage leaf at each stroke of the bell.  You should dream of your future husband tonight, if you are to have one.

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Artwork:

Limbourg frères, “Martyrdom of Saint Mark”, Très Riches Heures de Jean, Duc de Berry (15^th century)

24 April - Saint Mark's Eve

‘Twas St. Mark’s Eve,

and towards the midnight drear,

when their wailing ghosts are flitting about

who must die within the year.

When the churchyard walk is crowded,

as the spirits come and go,

gliding along through the closed gates,

and dim aisles to and fro…

                                                        From The Eve of St. Mark’s, a poem by W.S.G. (1871)

You can find instructions (and a warning) for watching tonight here, along with a couple of love charms.  Here are more for your collection:

Go to the barn before midnight, open the doors wide, and at the stroke of twelve, riddle the chaff. (To riddle is to separate the grains of wheat (or other cereal) from their dry, protective covering (chaff), using a sieve-like bowl called a ‘riddle’.)  If, as you riddle, you see two men carrying a coffin past the open doors, you will die within the year.

For matrimonial divination, make and eat a dumb-cake tonight from an eggshell-full each of salt, wheat meal, and barley meal.  The charm says to make this into a dough “without the aid of spring water”, but doesn’t say anything about any other liquid, so you could use milk or soda or even city water.  No more than three young ladies must meet to make the cake, and all must be done in silence (good luck with that).  At midnight, each participant must break off and eat a portion of the cake, then walk backwards to bed.  Those who will be married will see the shades of their intendeds hurrying after them, with the intention of catching hold, but wily girls will be ready to jump into bed before they are caught (the shades being too gentlemanly to jump in after, I guess).

If no pursuing likeness is seen, the future brides might hear a rustling in the house or a knocking at the door, but don’t leave your bed to investigate.  “Those that are to die unmarried neither see nor hear anything; but they have terrible dreams, which are sure to be of newly-made graves, winding-sheets, and churchyards, and of rings that will fit no finger, or which, if they do, crumble into dust as soon as put on.”  

William Shepard Walsh, Curiosities of Popular Customs (1898), p. 351.

28 February - Saint Romanus

Weather - St. Romanus bright and clear, indicates a goodly year

In the territory of Lyons, on Mount Jura, the demise of St. Romanus, abbot, who was the first to lead the eremitical life there.  His reputation for virtues and miracles brought under his guidance numerous monks.

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The Martyrology also remembers St. Caerealis  of Alexandria, patron of breakfast from a box, of which nothing more is known, not even the year that he was martyred with Pupulus, Caius, and Sarpion.

[I made up the part about his patronage]

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This is Kalevala Day in Finland.

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This being the eve of the first of March and St. David’s day, there are a few superstitions and traditions:

“If you wish to see a vision of your future spouse, walk silently three times around the leek bed tonight.” (No word yet on whether the vision shows up in the leek bed or in your bed (in your dreams, of course!))

“If you walk in the churchyard at midnight, you will see the corpse-candles floating above the graves of those families who will suffer a death in the coming year.” [The only person who might be interested is the sexton, who can plan his annual budget accordingly.  Oh, and heirs, of course.  Although the candles don’t exactly say who in the family is going to die…]

An Albanian tradition is to throw a clod of earth in which a few drops of wolf’s milk is kneaded, at the door of the barn so that the cows and goats will milk well that year…  [okay, who volunteers to milk the wolf?  It’s bad enough when Bossy doesn’t care to be milked – she merely plants a hoof amidships and calmly watches you stagger away in pain.  Madame Wolf has other ways of showing her displeasure to those who take unwarrantable liberties with her person, most of which involve her well-honed teeth.]

Another Albanian tradition is to wash with wine to prevent any vermin from touching them [take note, you who are terrified of bed-bugs] and then impale a flea on a new needle so that no other flea will dare to come near them [pour encourager les autres, no doubt]. 

The Albanians have the coolest traditions.

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Artwork:

The Capitoline Wolf, Musei Capitolini, Rome, Italy, swiped from Wikipedia

20 January - Saints Fabian and Sebastian

On Saint Sebastian, we are quit of winter [yes, well, it may seem like it today, but don’t put away your long underwear just yet]

When the bearded saint,                     (Anthony, 17 January)

And the arrow-pierced saint,              (Sebastian, 20 January)

Ant the combed saint have passed      (Blaise, 4 February)

Then the cold is over.

[That is as may be.  Here it should actually say something like

“When the Dragon-slayer has passed      (George, 23 April)

Then the cold is over.”

              Or

“When the Dove has passed          (Pentecost, sometime in May usually)

Then the cold is over.”

(I have seen a chill in May kill my newly planted tomatoes…)]

The last twelve days of January rule the weather for the whole year.  [Which someone else can track.  I’ve done my part with the 12 days of Christmas and the first 12 days of January]

Speaking of which, the sun shone bright and clear here at Rudd’s Little Acre on the 4^th of January, aka Saint Parailde’s day (corresponding to April (first 12 days) and also to November (12 Days of Xmas).  According to weather lore:

If the sun shines on Saint Parailde’s day, it foretells pestilence.

and

If the sun shines on the 11^th day of Christmas, then will there be many deaths among men [probably from the pestilence].

Boo on both counts. 

Saint Sebastian (a manly man if evert there was one) was invoked against the pestilence, as the plague was often symbolized as arrows of death.  Perhaps those of us who DON’T think the eradication of men to be a Good Thing should ask Sebastian to intercede and keep both pestilence and death at bay.

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Today is the feast of Saint Fabian, Pope, and Saint Sebastian, Soldier, both martyrs for Our Lord.

Fabian was the leader of the Christians during a time of peace for them.  The persecutions had ended, and the Church grew and thrived.  Lots of people became Christians (the ‘in’ thing that season) and used their substance to build churches and relieve the poor and sing a New Church into being and earn really neat quill pens blessed by the Emperor by telling him that his pet projects were really in line with Christian thinking. But this small pocket of peace ended, and the persecutions began again under Decius, of which Pope Fabian was one of the first martyrs.  Lots of the new Christians, and not a few of the old ones (especially those with souvenir quill pens), fell away and apostatized. 

Well, after all, persecution IS hard, no question.  You start by being one who “doesn’t play well with others”, followed by the loss of your job (not ostensibly because of your religion, because that would be illegal.)  Then there are government thugs intimidating your family (it only takes an APB on your car tags or your children failed in school for your beliefs, but don’t worry, your children will be trained to denounce you if they want to get ahead); your bank accounts frozen (so easily done, just ask Rhode Island) – which means your bills cannot be paid (which means that you have no electricity or heat, and eventually no house); no money, which means no way to feed your family, or even move away to someplace less biased.  And then you are moved to 'camps', so that you don't contaminate others... and then somebody decides that you have no right to live.

Sound familiar?  If not, stand by.  It will.  And then watch the apostatizing begin.  Pray for the strength not to be one of them.

As for Saint Sebastian, you can read several excellent posts by Mr. Nelson of Abbey Roads.  Please pray for to those sorry souls who co-opt the saints for their own wrong-doing.

And please pray for us sorry souls who don’t fly to the saints enough for our souls’ benefit.

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This is also the Eve of Saint Agnes.  I hope you young ladies have been fasting today.

Artwork:

"Saints Fabian and Sebastian", The Hours of Catherine of Cleves (15th century)

16 January - Eve of St. Anthony

Tomorrow is the feast of Saint Anthony, Abbot.  This evening is a time to try a love charm.

For this you will need a door that leads to the street (for most of you, that would be the front door.)  Stand with your back to the door, a sufficient distance away.  Take a slipper in your right hand and throw it over your right shoulder.  Hopefully, you will not hit anything expensive, like your mother's heirloom vahz. Now, mark how the slipper lies: if the toes point toward the door, it is a sign that you will be married before another year has passed.

If not, not.  And better luck next time.

[Explain to your mother why you are throwing your slippers at the front door, instead of leaving them decently parked under your bed.]

20 December - St. Thomas Eve

Tomorrow being the feast of Saint Thomas (in the Old Calendar), today is Saint Thomas Eve.

Do you have your onions ready, so that you can dream of your true love?

(Must've been a bad onion)

Oh, wait.  The world is supposed to end tomorrow, isn’t it.

In that case, nevermind.

Artwork: The Charivari (Fauvel’s Wedding Night), Romance of Fauvel (manuscript, early 14^th century) Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale.

17 November - Saint Hilda of Whitby

The feast, or solemnity, or remembrance, or optional whatever… today belongs to the 7th century abbess, Saint Hilda of Whitby.

Hilda, or Hild, was born about 614 into the ruling family of Northumbria, but politics being what they were, she early learned that members of ruling families had a tendency to kill each other.  Her father was poisoned soon after her birth, and she grew up in the royal court of King Edwin (her father’s uncle) with her mother and older sister Hereswith.

Up to this point, Christianity in the northern part of England was not quite non-existent, but close enough.  The Irish monks had done great work in converting Scotland, Saint Augustine of Canterbury and his missionaries had made great inroads into the southern kingdoms, but in between, not so much.  That changed when Hilda was 11 and Uncle Edwin married Ethelburga, the Christian daughter of the king of Kent, and promised that not only would she be allowed to practice her religion freely, but that he would consider converting, if his wife’s religion seemed more acceptable to God than his own pagan religion.

How he was going to determine its acceptability to God is not mentioned, but perhaps a few curtain-lectures helped.  Two years later, Edwin converted and was baptized with his household (including Hilda).  Soon after this, older sister Hereswith married into the ruling family of East Anglia.

Life went on as usual until 632, when Uncle Edwin was killed in battle, and Aunt Ethelburga and her children were forced to flee to the safety of Kent.  It is not known for certain what action Hilda took, but it is likely that she went south with the queen, possibly heading for her sister’s court in East Anglia.  Her life for the next 15 years is open to speculation.

Meanwhile, the victory in 633 of Oswald (another relative from a rival part of the family) over the pagan king of Mercia brought a Christian king back to the throne of Northumbria.  Older sister Hereswith was widowed and, as was usual for royal widows, took the veil as a nun.  There not being any foundations nearby, she chose to go to Chelles in France.  Hilda, now 33 years of age, contemplated joining her sister in Chelles, but King Oswald’s friend Saint Aidan convinced her to return to Northumbria and take charge of a monastery there.  She did so, eventually becoming the abbess of the double monastery at Hartlepool, where Aidan continued to visit and advise her until his death in 651.

Oswald, himself later to be canonized, was killed in battle and was succeeded by his brother Oswiu.  Facing a battle of his own, the king vowed to dedicate his infant daughter to the service of God and furthermore to make 12 grants of land for religious foundations if he was victorious.  Making good on that vow, he sent the baby to Hilda to be raised at Hartlepool, and gave her one of the grants of land, which she used to found a double abbey at Streoneshalch (later called Whitby) in 657.  In a double abbey or monastery, both monks and nuns lived in small cells separated by the church – monks on one side, nuns on the other (no mixed dorms here!) – under the rule of an abbess.   Hilda’s foundation grew and prospered, and, like its founder, was far famed for learning and piety.

Hilda was still founding and building in 680, when the intermittent fever from which she had suffered for the last seven years finally caused her death at the age of 66.

In the picture here, we see Hilda holding her abbey in one hand, and a spiraled object in the other.  In the area around Whitby, ammonite fossils are common, and while we now know what they are, medieval man did not.  Therefore, they became the stuff of legend – specifically that Saint Hilda turned to stone the snakes which infested the place.  In Scott’s “Marmion”, the Whitby nuns relate:

 — how of a thousand snakes each one

Was changed into a coil of stone

When holy Hilda prayed;

Themselves within their holy bound

Their stony folds had often found.

That the ‘snakes’ had no heads was explained away – either St. Hilda or St. Cuthbert had so cursed them before they were petrified, but for those who needed help visualizing the miracle, the locals would happily (and surreptitiously) carve heads on the “snake-stones” prior to selling the same to the awe-struck pilgrims.

For an image of a snake-stone with an added head, please see the British Museum website.

Hilda’s flourishing abbey of Whitby was destroyed by Norsemen in 867.   A plaintive poem from 1880 imaginatively describes the loss of the abbey bells, and relates that those who hear them ringing on New Year’s Eve will be married within the year:

THE LEGEND OF ST. HILDA'S BELLS.

by ‘Hereward’

FROM the pleasant vale of Whitby, by the German Ocean shore,
Floats the sweetness of a legend handed down from days of yore,
When that hardy North Sea Rover, Oscar Olaf, Son of Sweyn,
Swooping down on Whitby's convent, bore her Bells beyond the Main—
Far away to where the headlands on the Scandinavian shore—
With reverberating thunder—-echo Baltic's sullen roar;

And sad the night-winds o'er the Yorkshire fells

Bemoan'd the absence of St. Hilda's Bells.

But the storms of Scandinavia, (Dane and Viking's sea-girt home),
Smote the Baltic's angry breakers, lash'd them into seething foam,
Whose white-crested, heaving mountains drove the saffron-bearded Dane
(Him the Saxons feared and hated, Oscar Olaf, Son of Sweyn)
Drove him back to cloister'd Whitby, and the German Ocean wave
Rolls and breaks with ceaseless moaning o'er the North Sea Rover's grave:

Aye, rolls and breaks, as when it moaned the knells

Of Oscar Olaf and St. Hilda's Bells.

Oft the Nuns and Mother Abbess of St. Hilda's lofty fane
Sighed to hear the silver chiming of the Convent Bells again;
Oft the herdsman on the moorland, and the maiden on the lea,
Mourned the missing iron songsters borne away beyond the sea;
For it seemed as though the accents of the dear old Bells no more
Would be heard in pleasant Whitby by the German Ocean shore,

That evermore the North Sea's surging swells

Would drown the music of St. Hilda's bells.

Aves, Credos, Paternosters, pleaded at St. Hilda's shrine,

(Sacred altar where the franklin's and the villein's prayers entwine,)

These, and presents rich and goodly, to that convent old and quaint,

Touched the heart of good St. Hilda, Saxon Whitby's Patron Saint;

For 'tis writ in fisher folk-lore at her word old Ocean bore

On his crest the ravished songsters, stranding them on Whitby's shore;

And oft again o'er Whitby's woodland dells

Was heard the sweetness of St. Hilda's Bells.

Years have fled adown the ages since those nigh-forgotten times;
But each New Year's Eve the waters echo back the convent chimes,
And—'tis said—the youth who hears them, ere the coming year has fled
(Flinging single life behind him) shall have press'd the nuptial bed;
Sweet belief, and quaint old legend, wafting long-forgotten lore
From the pleasant vale of Whitby by the German Ocean shore,

Where strolls the ancient fisherman who tells

Of Oscar Olaf and St. Hilda's Bells.

26 July - St. Anne and St. Joachim

Weather – If it rains on St. Ann's Day, it will rain for a month and a week [however, some people call the rain on this day "Saint Ann's Dower" and consider it a good thing].

If on St. Anne’s day, the ants are building up their sand-hills, it is a sign of coming severe winter.

Gardening – On St. Anne’s day, the July grapes are ripe [and even if they aren’t quite, the July grape leaves are big and afford abundant shade when climbing over an arbor.  To sit in the arbor with a glass of a previous year’s vintage on a summer’s evening…]

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 “The departure out of this life of St. Anne, mother of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God.”

In the traditional calendar, (except for the Use of Paris, which celebrated St. Anne on the 28^th) today is the feast of Saint Anne, the grandmother of Jesus. Traditionally, her husband Joachim has his own feast day on the 16^th of August, and was mentioned also on the 20^th of March, the day of his birth, but celebrating them both today makes sense, for theirs is a fine example of a godly marriage, and, let’s face it, in the calendar of saints, there aren’t many happily married ones to use as examples.  We need all we can get.

Here is the account of Joachim and Anne from the Golden Legend:

“Joachim, which was of Galilee of the city of Nazareth, espoused Anne of Bethlehem, and they were both just and without reproach or reprehension in the commandments of our Lord… and thus lived twenty years in marriage without having any lineage.  And then they avowed to our Lord that if he sent to them any lineage they should give it to Him, for to serve Him.”

During one of the great feasts in Jerusalem, Joachim was prevented by the high priest to bring his offering, saying that his offerings were not acceptable to God, who had judged him unworthy to have children, and that “a man cursed in the faith should not offer to our Lord, nor he that was barren should be among them that had fruit…” Ashamed and afraid of the recriminations of his family and neighbors, he went off to the hills and abode there for forty days.  It was there that an angel found him and declared that his lack of children was no reproach to him, but God’s will, and reminded him that several of the great men of the Hebrews – Isaac and Joseph, Samson and Samuel – were born of mothers who had been barren for years. “And when He closes the womb, He works so that He opens it after, more marvelously… And therefore Anne your wife shall have a daughter, and you shall call her Mary, and she, as you have vowed, shall be from her infancy sacred unto our Lord… And I give to you the sign, that when you come to the golden gate at Jerusalem, you shall meet there Anne your wife, which is much moved of your long tarrying, and shall have joy of your coming.”

The angel gave like assurance to Anne, and gave her the same sign, that of finding her husband at the same city gate.

Giotto

The Meeting at the Golden Gate, with Joachim and Anne joyfully embracing, was a favorite subject for medieval and renaissance artists, perhaps because it was one of the few times when physical love could be depicted in iconography. 

“And Anne conceived and brought forth a daughter, and named her Mary.”

The rest of the story is concerned with the upbringing and dedication of Mary at the age of three years, when, according to the story, she went to live in the Temple.

Not content with that, writers dabbled in genealogy and tried to tie in as many names from the Biblical account as possible. An ancient account, supposedly written by Hippolytus the Martyr, said that Anne was the third daughter of the priest Matthew and Mary, his wife; that the eldest daughter, also named Mary , married a man in Bethlehem and became the mother of Mary Salome; that the second daughter, named Sobe, married a man in Bethlehem and had a daughter named Elizabeth, who became the mother of John the Baptist.

The Golden Legend tells it differently:

“And Anne had three husbands, Joachim, Cleophas, and Salome; and of the first she had a daughter named Mary, the Mother of God… And when Joachim was dead, she took Cleophas, the brother of Joseph, and had by him another daughter named Mary also, and she was married to Alpheus [who] had by her four sons, that was James the Less, Joseph the Just, otherwise named Barsabee, Simon, and Jude.  Then the second husband being dead, Anne married the third named Salome, and had by him another daughter which yet also was called Mary, and she was married to Zebedee.  And this Mary had of Zebedee two sons, that is to wit, James the Greater, and John the Evangelist.”

Yes, they were an imaginative lot.

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Ant: A heavenly blessing entered into Anne, through whom the Virgin Mary was born for us.

V: Pray for us, blessed Anne.

R: That we be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

Prayer: O God, who vouchsafed to grant to blessed Anne such grace that she deserved to bear Thy most blessed mother in her most glorious womb, grant to us through the intercession of Thy mother and sister the abundance of Thy graciousness, so that we may embrace their commemoration with holy love, and by their prayers be able to reach heaven, our native land. Through the same, our Lord Jesus Christ Thy Son, Who liveth and reigneth with Thee in the unity of the Holy Ghost, O God, world without end. Amen.

From the Suffrages to the Saints, Hypertext Book of Hours.

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For this love charm, you must start on the 23^rd of July,  fasting for three days on bread, water, and sprigs of parsley. Nothing else.  On the eve of St. Anne’s feast day (the 25^th) go to bed as soon as convenient, and be silent from the time you undress.   Get into bed, lie on your left side, with your head as low as possible, [?] and repeat the following verse three times:

"Saint Anne in silver cloud descend

Prove yourself a maiden’s friend

Be it good or be it harm,

Let me have knowledge from the charm.

Be it husband one, two, three,

Let me in rotation see,

And if fate decrees me four,

(No good maid would wish for more)

Let me view them in my dream

Fair and clearly to be seen;

But if the hateful stars decree

Perpetual virginity,

Let me sleep on and dreaming not,

I shall know my single lot.” 

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Images: 

Hours of Catherine of Cleves (c1440). Joachim and Anne 

Engraving from a print in the Salisbury Missal (1534) found in The Everyday Book and Table Book (William Hone, 1838)

Detail from Giotto, Legend of St. Joachim, Meeting at the Golden Gate (1305)

23 June - More Midsummer Night Love Charms

I published a slew of love charms for Midsummer night here, and added a few variations.  Midsummer Night Traditions has also been updated.

Here is another to add to the collection:

Pluck a sprig of St. John’s Wort tonight and stick it in the wall of your bedroom.  Should it still be fresh and green in the morning, you may reckon on gaining a suitor within the year.

[Should it remain fresh and green, it means your walls are damp, and you can also reckon on having mold within the year.]

There is a down-side to this.  Should the sprig droop, the belief is that the seeker after knowledge would also pine and wither away.

On the St. John’s Wort

The young maid stole through the cottage door,

And blushed as she sought the plant of power;

“Thou silver Glowworm, O lend me thy light!

I must gather the mystic St. John’s Wort tonight,

The wonderful herb whose leaf will decide

If the coming year shall make me a bride.”

And the Glowworm came

With its silvery flame,

And sparkled and shone

Through the night of St. John,

And soon has the young maid her loveknot tied.

With noiseless tread, to her chamber she sped,

Where the spectral Moon her white beams shed.

“Bloom here – bloom here, thou plant of power,

To deck the young bride in her bridal hour!”

But it drooped its head, that plant of power,

And died the mute death of the voiceless flower;

And a withered wreath on the ground it lay,

More meet for a burial than bridal day.

And when a year was past away,

All pale on her bier the young maid lay!

And the Glowworm came

With its silvery flame,

And sparkled and shone

Through the night of St. John,

And they closed the cold grave o’er the maid’s cold clay.

T. Forster, The Perennial Calendar (1824), p. 310.

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[This charm is not for those with dickey tickers:]

Before retiring to bed tonight, place three pails full of water in your bedroom, then pin to your nightgown or pajamas [do, please, wear something] three leaves of green holly opposite to your heart.  Then go to sleep.

If the charm works, you will be awakened from your first slumber by three yells “as if from the throats of three bears”, followed by many hoarse laughs.  When these have died away, the form of a man will appear.  If he is to be your future husband, he will change the position of the water pails.  If not, he will leave without touching them.

Then go back to sleep, if you can.

29 February - Leap Day

Weather – Ember Day.  The weather today foretells the weather in April. 

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“During leap year, the girl who counts all the gray horses she sees, until she has got up to a hundred, will be married within a year to the first gentleman with whom she shakes hands after counting the one-hundredth horse… If someone would bring a drove of gray horses to town today, what a shaking of hands would take place tomorrow.” [Warren Gazette, January 28, 1876]

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“Bachelors may breathe easier.  The privilege of Ladies to pop the question expires with the 29^th of February.” [Warren Gazette, March 8, 1872]

So, whence comes this “Ladies’ Privilege”?  It is simply amazing the stories you can find!

In 1865, The Illustrated Almanack printed the following, and it still makes the rounds on the Internet: “The ladies' leap year privilege took its origin in the following manner :—By an ancient act of the Scottish Parliament, passed about the year 1228, it was ‘ordonit that during ye reign of her maist blessit maiestie, Margeret, ilk for the yeare knowne as lepe yeare, ilka maiden ladee of baith high and lowe estait, shall hae libertie to speak ye man she likes. Gif he refuses to tak hir to bee his wyf, he schale be mulct in the sum of ane hundridty pundis, or less, as his estait may bee, except and alwais, gif he can make it appeare that he is betrothit to anither woman, then he schal be free.’"

[first hint that something is not quite right here: There was no ‘blessit majestie Margaret’ in 1228]

This story was republished throughout the 19^th century with a few changes here and there – sometimes it was during the reign of “hys maist blissit mageste” and sometimes the year changed to 1288 and sometimes the fine went from £100 to £1, and sometimes the spelling (always atrocious) changed.

It makes a fine mental picture to imagine those brae burly Scots nobles taking time out of their usual pursuits (like warring on the English) to make a law giving ladies the privilege in Leap Year.

"So, waddya guys think about this leap year business?"

Besides which, as Walsh says in his Handy-book of Literary Curiosities, “At all events, the imitation of old English is too modern for the year 1228.” [Or ’88, for that matter.]

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The original "Kiss me, I'm Irish"

A nicer grandmother’s tale, more often utilized than the Improbable History of the Scots, is the one in which Saint Patrick and Saint Brigid are the actors.  This version comes from Curiosities of Popular Customs (1898): 

“As St. Patrick was perambulating the shores of Lough Neagh, after having driven the frogs out of the bogs and the snakes out of the grass, he was accosted by St. Bridget, who with many tears and lamentations informed him that dissension had arisen among the ladies in her nunnery over the fact that they were debarred the privilege of "popping the question."

It will be remembered that in Bridget's day celibacy, although approved by the Church as the proper life of a religious, and consequently made binding upon the individual by a private vow, was not enforced as a general and absolute rule for the clergy.

St. Patrick—a sternly single man himself—was yet so far moved that he offered to concede to the ladies the privilege of proposing one year in every seven. But at this St. Bridget demurred, and, throwing her arms about his neck, exclaimed, "Arrah! Pathrick, jewel, I daurn't go back to the gurls wid such a proposal. Mek it wan year in four."

To which St. Patrick replied, "Biddy, acushla, squeeze me that way again, and I'll give you leap-year, the longest one of the lot."

St. Bridget, thus encouraged, bethought herself of her own husbandless condition, and accordingly popped the question to St. Patrick herself.  But he had taken the vow of celibacy: so he had to patch up the difficulty as best he could with a kiss and a silk gown.

"And ever since then," concludes the legend, which, it is needless to say, is not found in Butler's "Lives of the Saints" or in any other work of hagiological authority, "if a man refuses a leap-year proposal he must pay the penalty of a silk gown and a kiss."

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Well, it is all a light-hearted thing of the past.  The Modern Woman is not constrained by waiting for Leap Year before asking the man of her dreams if he will honor her with his heart and hand (while keeping the bridal magazines out of sight but instantly available).  She pounces when she can.

13 February - St. Valentine's Eve

Tomorrow being Saint Valentine's Day, tonight is St. Valentine's Eve, and time for another love charm or two.

From Mother Bunch's Closet Newly Broke Open:
"Fifthly, my daughters, know ye the 14th of February is Valentine's day, at which time the fowls of the air begin to couple; and the young men and maids are for choosing their mates. Now, that you may speed, take this approved direction: Take five bay-leaves, lay one under every corner of your pillow, and the fifth in the middle; then lying down to rest, repeat these lines seven times: 

"Sweet guardian angels, let me have,

What I most earnestly do crave,

A valentine endowed with love,

That will both kind and constant prove."

Then to your content you'll have either the valentine you desire, or one more excellent."
[Who can fault that?]


This charm uses fewer bay leaves:
“Take two bay-leaves, sprinkle them with rose water, and lay them across your pillow in the evening.  When you go to bed, put on a clean night-gown, turned wrong side outwards, and, lying down, say these words softly to yourself:

"Good Valentine, be kind to me;

In dreams let me my true love see."

The charm can be used on St. Valentine's day, also.


[Be ready to explain to your mother why her stock of bay leaves is suddenly diminished: "But it's for a good cause, Mom!  You want grandchildren someday, don't you?"]

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Another form of divination was to take hempseed in hand and go to the porch of a church tonight; at half-past midnight the seeker after knowledge would "proceed homewards, scattering the seed on either side, repeating these lines:

Hempseed I sow, hempseed I mow,
She (or he) that will my true love be,
Come rake this hempseed after me; 

The person's true love would be seen behind in a winding-sheet [i.e. grave-clothes or a shroud], "raking up the seed just sown." [That seems to me to be a mixing of the superstition of seeing the people who will die in the coming year on St. Mark's Eve with the love-charm of the hempseed on St. John's Eve.  In any case, it is not one that I will try, and not just because it is far too cold to be walking home from church in the wee hours of the morning!]

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From the Chromolithograph (1868):
"A curious custom is still kept up in Norwich, on the eve of St. Valentine, of giving presents; and the mode adopted among all classes, that of placing the presents on the doorsill of the house of the favoured person, and intimating what is done by a run-away knock or ring, as the giver pleases.  In Madder's "Rambles in an Old City" (Norwich), it is thus described: "The streets swarm with carriers, and baskets laden with treasures; bang, bang, bang go the knockers, and away rushes the banger, depositing first upon the doorstep some packages from the basket of stores ; —again and again at intervals, at every door to which a missive is addressed, is the same repeated till the baskets are empty. Anonymously, St. Valentine presents his gifts, - labeled only with 'St. Valentine's love' and 'Good-morrow, Valentine.' 

Then within the houses of destination, the screams, the shouts, the rushings to catch the bang-bangs—the flushed faces, sparkling eyes, rushing feet to pick up the fairy gifts—inscriptions to be interpreted, mysteries to be unravelled, hoaxes to be found out—great hampers, heavy and ticketed 'With care, this side upwards' to be unpacked, out of which jump live little boys, with St Valentine's love to the little ladies fair—the sham bang-bangs, that bring nothing but noise and fun—the mock parcels that vanish from the doorstep by invisible strings when the door opens— monster parcels that dwindle to thread papers denuded of their multiplied envelopes, with fitting mottoes, all tending to the final consummation of good counsel, 'Happy is he who expects nothing, and he will not be disappointed.' It is a glorious night: marvel not that we should perpetuate so joyous a festivity." 

[Much more fun than the generic box of chocolates and the half-hearted "Where do you want to go for dinner?"] 

20 January - Saint Agnes Eve

Tomorrow being the feast of Saint Agnes, tonight is Saint Agnes Eve, “not to be despised as a period of prophetic promise for maidens in search of a husband”.

And on sweet St. Agnes' night

Please you with the promis'd sight,

Some of husbands, some of lovers

Which an empty dream discovers.  

Ben Jonson.

First let us dispose of a healing charm for the ague.  It is to be spoken up the chimney tonight by the eldest female in the family:

Tremble and go!

First day shiver and burn;

Tremble and quake!

Second day shiver and learn;

Tremble and die!

Third day never return.

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Are you wishful to see your future spouse?  Here are several charms to try:

Upon St. Agnes' night you take a row of pins, and pull out every one, one after another, saying a Pater Noster, sticking a pin in your sleeve, and you will dream of him or her you shall marry.

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A more elaborate method is to leave your home and go to a strange locality.  Before going to bed (without supper, mind you), take the stocking from your right leg and knot it to the garter from your left leg, singing the following,—

I knit this knot, this knot I knit,

To know the thing I know not yet,

That I may see

The man that shall my husband be,

Not in his best or worst array,

But what he weareth every day;

That I to-morrow may him ken

From among all other men.

Then lie down on your back with your hands under your head, and your future spouse will surely appear in a dream and give you a kiss.

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Take a sprig of rosemary and a sprig of thyme; sprinkle each three times with water, then place one in each shoe (probably shouldn't be the shoes you've been wearing all day, lest you wilt the herbs), and stand one shoe and sprig on each side of the bed, repeating,—

St. Agnes, that's to lovers kind,

Come ease the trouble of my mind.

Your future spouse should then appear in a dream.

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Meet a bunch of your friends (male and female) at midnight near a cornfield.  One by one, each person should go into the cornfield and throw grain on the soil.  When you have all gathered together again, repeat the following rhyme:

Agnes sweet and Agnes fair, 

Hither, hither, now repair; 

Bonny Agnes, let me see 

The lad [or lass] who is to marry me. 

On your return home, you should see in a mirror the shadow of your destined spouse. 

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For the more adventuresome: Place on the floor a lighted pigtail (a small candle), which must have been previously stolen, or else the charm will not work.  Then sit down in silence and watch it till it begins to burn blue, when your future husband will appear and walk across the room. 

 
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The following is a very simple plan: Spread bread and cheese on the table, and sit down to it alone, observing strict silence. As the clock strikes twelve your future lover will appear and join you at your frugal meal.

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Eat nothing all day till bedtime, then boil an egg hard, extract the yolk, fill up the cavity with salt, and eat the egg, shell and all [oh, ick].  Then walk backwards to bed, repeating these lines: 

Sweet St. Agnes, work thy fast; 

If ever I be to marry man, 

Or man be to marry me, 

I hope him this night to see. 

Some say that the same result may be effected by eating a raw red herring, bones and all, before going to bed [that hardly seems any better]. 

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On going to bed, place your shoes at right angles to each other in the shape of a T, saying the while: 

I place my shoes in form of a T, 

Hoping my true love to see; 

Not dressed in his best array, 

But in the clothes he wears every day.

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Another more elaborate ceremony is the preparation of the dumb-cake.  The cake must be prepared fasting, and in silence. When ready it must be placed in a pan on the coals to bake, and at midnight the future husband will come in, turn the cake, and go out again.

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From Mother Bunch's Closet Newly Broke Open: 

"On that day thou must be sure that no man salute thee, nor kiss thee; I mean neither man, woman, nor child, must kiss thy lips on that day; and then, at night, before thou goest into thy bed, thou must be sure to put on a clean shift, and the best thou hast, then the better thou mayst speed. And when thou liest down, lay thy right hand under thy head, saying these words, Now the god of Love send me my desire; make sure to sleep as soon as thou canst, and thou shalt be sure to dream of him who shall be thy husband, and see him stand before thee, and thou wilt take great notice of him and his complexion, and, if he offers to salute thee, do not deny him." 

And again, "Upon this day thou must be sure to keep a true fast, for thou must not eat or drink all that day, nor at night; neither let any man, woman, or child kiss thee that day; and thou must be sure, at night, when thou goest to bed, to put on a clean shift, and the best thou hast, then the better thou mayst speed; and thou must have clean cloaths on thy head, for St. Agnes does love to see clean cloaths when she comes; and when thou liest down on thy back as straight as thou canst, and both thy hands are laid underneath thy head, then say,—

Now, good St. Agnes, play thy part,

And send to me my own sweetheart,

And shew me such a happy bliss,

This night of him to have a kiss.

And then be sure to fall asleep as soon as thou canst, and before thou awakest out of thy first sleep thou shalt see him come and stand before thee, and thou shalt perceive by his habit what tradesman he is ; but be sure thou declarest not thy dream to anybody in ten days, and by that time thou mayst come to see thy dream come to pass."

However, Mother Bunch later writes: "I have found a more exact way of trial than before. You need not abstain from kisses, nor be forced to keep fast for a glance of a lover in the night. If you can but rise, to be at the church door between the hours of twelve and one in the morning, and put the forefinger of your right hand into the keyhole and then repeat the following words thrice:

'O sweet St. Agnes, now draw near,

And with my true love straight appear.'

Then will he presently approach with a smiling countenance." 

[No texting the guy of your dreams to be at the church after midnight.  That would be cheating] 

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"Fair Saint Agnes, play thy part,

And send to me my own sweetheart,

Not in his best nor worst array,

But in the clothes he wears every day;

That to-morrow I may him ken,

From among all other men." 

On the other hand, there are these verses from Poor Robin’s Almanack for 1734:

“Saint Agnes Day comes by and by,

When pretty maids do fast to try

Their sweethearts in their dreams to see,

Or know who shall their husbands be.

But some when married all is o’er

And they desire to dream no more,

Or, if they must have these extremes,

Wish all their sufferings were but dreams.”

Careful what you wish for….