wrathful God using lightning against the Philistines, such as these lines from the second book of Samuel:
‘And he sent out arrows, and scattered them; lightning, and discomfited them.’ (2 Samuel 22:15, King James)
A Yorkshire proverb from the 1870s shows how the biblical became proverbial: ‘When tunner’s loud crack shaks t’Heavenly vau’ts, It’s the Lord wo is callin’ ti
men o’ their fau’ts.’
Fear of evoking God’s anger with their flaws resulted in a number of superstitions designed to appease himwhen storms threatened. Fire is symbolic of faith in many
religions, and keeping a fire burning in the hearth was said to protect a home from lightning because it showed that the household was keeping its faith alive. Talking about the storm was avoided
as a mark of respect and pointing to it was strictly forbidden, as this extract from an 1862 edition of history magazine
Notes and Queries
illustrates: ‘It is wicked to point towards the part
of the heavens from which lightning is expected. I have seen a little boy, for this offence, made to kneel blindfold on the floor, to teach him how he would feel if the lightning came and blinded
him.’
This interpretation of thunder as a punishment from God has endured among believers well into our more secular age. When a fire destroyed one of the UK’s finest cathedrals at York Minster
in 1985 and the Bishop announced the news that a lightning strike was to blame, a reader of
The Times
newspaper wrote in to say ‘“Just lightning” says the Bishop dismissively. To
those of us as old-fashioned as I, lightning is the wrath of God.’
NEVER LIGHT THREE CIGARETTES WITH ONE MATCH
This superstition is still widely held today and for some it’s as much a part of the ritual of smoking as tapping the end of the cigarette or
turning one upside down in a new pack. Most collections of superstitions place its roots in the trenches of the Boer War, when, the theory goes, the expert snipers in the Boer army would spot a
flame across the veldt as the first cigarette was lit, take aim as it reached the second and shoot as the third light was being offered, killing the last soldier before he’d had chance to
take a single puff.
Historically, superstitions have always engrained themselves most deeply in times of peril. Faced with the very real prospect that life could be snuffed out at any moment, people naturally seek
an escape route, and ifnone is available, they create a battery of superstitious rituals to trick the mind into feeling that they are doing something to protect themselves
and help quell the rising panic. It is easy to imagine then that this superstition might have flourished in trench warfare, but there is evidence to suggest that it might have begun with a
different army. A reluctance to light three articles with the same match had also been noted among Russian prisoners in the Crimean War, which predated the Boer war by half a century. The reason
said to have been given by these prisoners was that rules of the Russian Orthodox Church stated that the only person allowed to light the three altar candles with a single taper was the priest, so
no one outside the church would dare to re-enact such a holy rite.
This religious source is supported by the first appearance of the superstition in print. In the 1916 novel
The Wonderful Year
by William Locke, a character named Fortinbras lights the cigarettes
of his two companions and uses another for his own:
‘A superstition,’ said he, by way of apology. ‘It arises out of the Russian funeral ritual in which the three altar candles are lit by the
same taper. To apply the same method of illumination to three worldly things like cigars or cigarettes is regarded as an act of impiety and hence as unlucky.’
The shrewd salesmanship of Swedish tycoon IvarKreugar, whose match-making empire dominated post-war production of matches, also helped to cement the belief in the public
consciousness.
‘And he sent out arrows, and scattered them; lightning, and discomfited them.’ (2 Samuel 22:15, King James)
A Yorkshire proverb from the 1870s shows how the biblical became proverbial: ‘When tunner’s loud crack shaks t’Heavenly vau’ts, It’s the Lord wo is callin’ ti
men o’ their fau’ts.’
Fear of evoking God’s anger with their flaws resulted in a number of superstitions designed to appease himwhen storms threatened. Fire is symbolic of faith in many
religions, and keeping a fire burning in the hearth was said to protect a home from lightning because it showed that the household was keeping its faith alive. Talking about the storm was avoided
as a mark of respect and pointing to it was strictly forbidden, as this extract from an 1862 edition of history magazine
Notes and Queries
illustrates: ‘It is wicked to point towards the part
of the heavens from which lightning is expected. I have seen a little boy, for this offence, made to kneel blindfold on the floor, to teach him how he would feel if the lightning came and blinded
him.’
This interpretation of thunder as a punishment from God has endured among believers well into our more secular age. When a fire destroyed one of the UK’s finest cathedrals at York Minster
in 1985 and the Bishop announced the news that a lightning strike was to blame, a reader of
The Times
newspaper wrote in to say ‘“Just lightning” says the Bishop dismissively. To
those of us as old-fashioned as I, lightning is the wrath of God.’
NEVER LIGHT THREE CIGARETTES WITH ONE MATCH
This superstition is still widely held today and for some it’s as much a part of the ritual of smoking as tapping the end of the cigarette or
turning one upside down in a new pack. Most collections of superstitions place its roots in the trenches of the Boer War, when, the theory goes, the expert snipers in the Boer army would spot a
flame across the veldt as the first cigarette was lit, take aim as it reached the second and shoot as the third light was being offered, killing the last soldier before he’d had chance to
take a single puff.
Historically, superstitions have always engrained themselves most deeply in times of peril. Faced with the very real prospect that life could be snuffed out at any moment, people naturally seek
an escape route, and ifnone is available, they create a battery of superstitious rituals to trick the mind into feeling that they are doing something to protect themselves
and help quell the rising panic. It is easy to imagine then that this superstition might have flourished in trench warfare, but there is evidence to suggest that it might have begun with a
different army. A reluctance to light three articles with the same match had also been noted among Russian prisoners in the Crimean War, which predated the Boer war by half a century. The reason
said to have been given by these prisoners was that rules of the Russian Orthodox Church stated that the only person allowed to light the three altar candles with a single taper was the priest, so
no one outside the church would dare to re-enact such a holy rite.
This religious source is supported by the first appearance of the superstition in print. In the 1916 novel
The Wonderful Year
by William Locke, a character named Fortinbras lights the cigarettes
of his two companions and uses another for his own:
‘A superstition,’ said he, by way of apology. ‘It arises out of the Russian funeral ritual in which the three altar candles are lit by the
same taper. To apply the same method of illumination to three worldly things like cigars or cigarettes is regarded as an act of impiety and hence as unlucky.’
The shrewd salesmanship of Swedish tycoon IvarKreugar, whose match-making empire dominated post-war production of matches, also helped to cement the belief in the public
consciousness.
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