A Raid on Fortune-tellers.
In London, at the present day, it is estimated that nearly two thousand persons, male and female, gain a livelihood under the guise of fortune-telling. Some of them are “seers,” or “astrologers,” “seventh sons,” clairvoyants, etc.
From the London Telegraph of the year 1871 we gather the following description of a few of the most prominent of these, with their arrest and trial, as fortune-telling is there, as elsewhere, proscribed by law:—
“First was arraigned ‘Professor Zendavesta,’ otherwise John Dean Bryant, aged fifty, and described as a ‘botanist.’ He was charged with having told a woman’s fortune, for the not very extravagant sum of thirteen cents. Two married women, it seems, instructed by the police, went to No. 3 Homer Street, Marylebone, and paid sixpence each to a woman, who gave them a bone ticket in return. One might have imagined that it was a spiritualist’s seance, but for the fact that the fee for admittance was sixpence, and not one guinea. Professor Zendavesta shook hands with one of the women, and warmly inquired after her health. She told him she was in trouble about her husband, which was false, and he bade her be of good cheer, and made an appointment to meet her on another day. Subsequently, two constables went to Bryant’s house, and on going into a room on the ground floor, found thirty or forty young women seated there. The ladies began to scream, and there was a rush for the door; while the police, who seemed to labor under the impression that to attend an astrological lecture was as illegal an act as that of being present at a cock-fight or a common gambling-house, stopped several of the women, and made them give their names and addresses. The walls of the apartment were covered with pictures of Life and Death, with the ‘nativities of several royal and illustrious personages, and of Constance Kent.’ It is a wonder that the horoscopes of Heliogabalus and Jack the Painter should have been lacking. Then there was a medicine chest containing bottles and memoranda of nativities; also a ‘magic mirror, with a revolving cylinder,’ showing the figures of men and women, old and young. Of course the collection included a ‘book of fate.’ This was the case against Bryant.
“One Shepherd, alias ‘Professor Cicero,’ was next charged, and it was shown that the same ‘instructed’ women went to his house, paying sixpence for the usual bone ticket. They saw Shepherd separately. When one of them said that she wanted her fortune told, ‘Professor Cicero’ took a yard tape and measured her hand. He gabbled the usual nonsense to her about love, marriage, and good luck, hinting that the price of a complete nativity would be half a crown, and before they left the place he gave them a circular, with their phrenological organs marked. Indeed, the man’s defence was, that he was a professor of phrenology, and not of the black art. A ‘magic mirror’ and a ‘lawyer’s gown’ were, however, found at his house, and the last named item has certainly a very black look. The evidence against the next defendant, William Henry, alias ‘Professor Thalaby,’ and against the fourth and last, Frederick Shipton, alias ‘Professor Baretta,’ did not differ to any great extent from the testimony given against Zendavesta. The solicitor retained for this sage contended that if he had infringed the law, it was likewise violated at the Crystal Palace, where the ‘magic mirror’ was to be seen every day. Mr. Mansfield, however, had only to deal with the case and the culprits before him, and, convicting all the four fortune-tellers, he sent them to the house of correction, there to be kept, each and every one of them, to hard labor for three months.”
The Fortune-tellers of To-day.
Before entering upon the exposé of the viler practices of this vile art,—the “selling of families,” and of virginity, and the abominable practices of the procuresses, who carry on their damnable treacheries, particularly in our large cities, at the present day,—I wish to enliven this chapter by one or more amusing instances relative to country fortune-tellers.
Filliky Milliky.—During the summer of 185-, the writer was one of a large party of excursionists to Weymouth’s Point, in Union Bay. There was a large barge full of people, old and young, male and female, besides several sailboat loads, who, on the return in the afternoon, decided to stop at the hut of a fortune-teller called “Filliky Milliky.” This old man, with his equally ignorant wife, professed to tell fortunes by means of a tea-cup. He claimed that he knew of our intended visit, and had set his house in order; but if that house was “in order” that day, deliver us from seeing it when out of order.
There were some one hundred or more of us, and whilst but two could occupy the attention of the “Millikies” at once, we sought other means of whiling away the time. The old man lived near the river side, and at his leisure had picked up a large pile of lath edgings which had floated down from a lath mill on the river.
One Captain Joy took it upon himself to form “all the gentlemen who would enlist in so noble a cause” into a “home guard,” and forthwith arming themselves with the aforesaid lath edgings, a company of volunteers was quickly raised, and drawn up in battle array.