Love Charms, by Washington Irving
Hall, or The Humorists
———Come, do not weep, my girl,
Forget him, pretty Pensiveness; there will
Come others, every day, as good as he.
—SIR J. SUCKLING.
The approach of a wedding in a family is always an event of great
importance, but particularly so in a household like this, in a retired
part of the country. Master Simon, who is a pervading spirit, and,
through means of the butler and housekeeper, knows every thing that
goes forward, tells me that the maid-servants are continually trying
their fortunes, and that the servants'-hall has of late been quite a
scene of incantation.
It is amusing to notice how the oddities of the head of a family flow
down through all the branches. The Squire, in the indulgence of his
love of every thing that smacks of old times, has held so many grave
conversations with the parson at table, about popular superstitions
and traditional rites, that they have been carried from the parlour to
the kitchen by the listening domestics, and, being apparently
sanctioned by such high authority, the whole house has become infected
The servants are all versed in the common modes of trying luck, and
the charms to insure constancy. They read their fortunes by drawing
strokes in the ashes, or by repeating a form of words, and looking in
a pail of water. St. Mark's Eve, I am told, was a busy time with them;
being an appointed night for certain mystic ceremonies. Several of
them sowed hemp-seed to be reaped by their true lovers; and they even
ventured upon the solemn and fearful preparation of the dumb-cake.
This must be done fasting, and in silence. The ingredients are handed
down in traditional form: "An eggshell full of salt, an eggshell full
of malt, and an eggshell full of barley-meal." When the cake is ready,
it is put upon a pan over the fire, and the future husband will
appear, turn the cake, and retire; but if a word is spoken or a fast
is broken during this awful ceremony, there is no knowing what
horrible consequences would ensue!
The experiments, in the present instance, came to no result; they that
sowed the hemp-seed forgot the magic rhyme that they were to
pronounce—so the true lover never appeared; and as to the dumb-cake,
what between the awful stillness they had to keep, and the awfulness
of the midnight hour, their hearts failed them when they had put the
cake in the pan; so that, on the striking of the great house-clock in
the servants'-hall, they were seized with a sudden panic, and ran out
of the room, to which they did not return until morning, when they
found the mystic cake burnt to a cinder.
The most persevering at these spells, however, is Phoebe Wilkins, the
housekeeper's niece. As she is a kind of privileged personage, and
rather idle, she has more time to occupy herself with these matters.
She has always had her head full of love and matrimony. She knows the
dream-book by heart, and is quite an oracle among the little girls of
the family, who always come to her to interpret their dreams in the
During the present gayety of the house, however, the poor girl has
worn a face full of trouble; and, to use the housekeeper's words,
"has fallen into a sad hystericky way lately." It seems that she was
born and brought up in the village, where her father was parish-clerk,
and she was an early playmate and sweetheart of young Jack Tibbets.
Since she has come to live at the Hall, however, her head has been a
little turned. Being very pretty, and naturally genteel, she has been
much noticed and indulged; and being the housekeeper's niece, she has
held an equivocal station between a servant and a companion. She has
learnt something of fashions and notions among the young ladies, which
have effected quite a metamorphosis; insomuch that her finery at
church on Sundays has given mortal offence to her former intimates in
the village. This has occasioned the misrepresentations which have
awakened the implacable family pride of Dame Tibbets. But what is
worse, Phoebe, having a spice of coquetry in her disposition, showed
it on one or two occasions to her lover, which produced a downright
quarrel; and Jack, being very proud and fiery, has absolutely turned
his back upon her for several successive Sundays.
The poor girl is full of sorrow and repentance, and would fain make up
with her lover; but he feels his security, and stands aloof. In this
he is doubtless encouraged by his mother, who is continually reminding
him what he owes to his family; for this same family pride seems
doomed to be the eternal bane of lovers.
As I hate to see a pretty face in trouble, I have felt quite concerned
for the luckless Phoebe, ever since I heard her story. It is a sad
thing to be thwarted in love at any time, but particularly so at this
tender season of the year, when every living thing, even to the very
butterfly, is sporting with its mate; and the green fields, and the
budding groves, and the singing of the birds, and the sweet smell of
the flowers, are enough to turn the head of a love-sick girl. I am
told that the coolness of young Ready-Money lies very heavy at poor
Phoebes heart. Instead of singing about the house as formerly, she
goes about pale and sighing, and is apt to break into tears when her
companions are full of merriment.
Mrs. Hannah, the vestal gentlewoman of my Lady Lillycraft, has had
long talks and walks with Phoebe, up and down the avenue of an
evening; and has endeavoured to squeeze some of her own verjuice into
the other's milky nature. She speaks with contempt and abhorrence of
the whole sex, and advises Phoebe to despise all the men as heartily
as she does. But Phoebe's loving temper is not to be curdled; she has
no such thing as hatred or contempt for mankind in her whole
composition. She has all the simple fondness of heart of poor, weak,
loving woman; and her only thoughts at present are how to conciliate
and reclaim her wayward swain.
The spells and love-charms, which are matters of sport to the other
domestics, are serious concerns with this love-stricken damsel. She is
continually trying her fortune in a variety of ways. I am told that
she has absolutely fasted for six Wednesdays and three Fridays
successively, having understood that it was a sovereign charm to
insure being married to one's liking within the year. She carries
about, also, a lock of her sweetheart's hair, and a riband he once
gave her, being a mode of producing constancy in a lover. She even
went so far as to try her fortune by the moon, which has always had
much to do with lovers' dreams and fancies. For this purpose, she went
out in the night of the full moon, knelt on a stone in the meadow, and
repeated the old traditional rhyme:
"All hail to thee, moon, all hail to thee;
I pray thee, good moon, now show to me
The youth who my future husband shall be."
When she came back to the house, she was faint and pale, and went
immediately to bed. The next morning she told the porter's wife that
she had seen some one close by the hedge in the meadow, which she was
sure was young Tibbets; at any rate, she had dreamt of him all night;
both of which, the old dame assured her, were most happy signs. It has
since turned out that the person in the meadow was old Christy, the
huntsman, who was walking his nightly rounds with the great
stag-hound; so that Phoebe's faith in the charm is completely shaken.