While Tom Leslie has gone around to Broome Street on his undeclared errand, and while the ladies are making an excuse to while away the time until his return, in the discussion of the after-dinner provocatives to indigestion recommended, let us enter a little more closely upon a subject merely indicated in the foregoing chapter, and then sneered at by at least one of the conversationists that of the fortune-telling imposition which so largely prevails, especially in the great cities, and the general course of human superstition in connection with it.

It may be set down, as a general principle, that every man is more or less superstitious that is, impressed with ideas and omens which go beyond the material world and bid utter defiance to reason. Every woman is certainly so. It is not less undeniable, meanwhile, that nearly every man and woman denies this fact of their natures and considers the mere allegation to be an insult. Oftenest from the fear of ridicule, but sometimes, no doubt, because any discussion of the matter is deemed improper, few acknowledge this peculiarity of nature, even to their most intimate friends: some, who must be aware that they possess it, deny it even to themselves. The subject is set down as contraband, universally, unless when the weakness of a third party is to be ridiculed, or a personal freedom from the superstition asserted; and yet this very silence and the boasting are both suspicious. No man boasts so much over his own wealth as he who has little or none; and no man is so silent, except under the influence of great excitement, as he who has a great thought oppressing him or a great fear continually tugging at his heart-strings. The most hopeless disbelievers in the Divine Being, that can possibly be met, are those who seldom or never enter into a controversy on the subject; and the least assured is he who oftenest enters into controversy, perhaps for the purpose of strengthening his own belief. There are Captain Barecolts, of course, who go bravely into battle after venting boasts that seem to stamp them as arrant cowards, and who come out of the conflict with stories staggering all human comprehension; but these cases are rare, and they do not go beyond the requisite number of exceptions to justify the rule.

Perhaps the most general of the ordinary superstitions of the country is the indefinable impression that the catching a first sight of the new moon over the right shoulder ensures good fortune in the ensuing month, while a first glance of it over the left is correspondingly unlucky. (It may be said, in a parenthesis, that the fast phrase, “over the left,” so prevalent during the past few years, to indicate the reverse of what has just been spoken, has its derivation from the impression that such an untoward sinister glance may neutralize all effort and bring notable misfortune.) Of a hundred men interrogated on this point, ninety-five will assert that they hold no such superstition, and that they have never even thought of the direction in which they first saw the new moon of any particular month. And yet of that ninety-five, the chances are that ninety are in the habit of taking precautions to meet the young crescent in the proper or lucky manner, or of indulging in a slight shudder or feeling of unpleasantness when they realize that they have accidentally blundered into the opposite.

Next in prevalence to this, may be cited the superstition that any pointed article, as a knife, a pin, or a pair of scissors, falling accidentally from the hand and sticking direct in the floor or the carpet, indicates the coming of visitors during the same day, to the house in which the omen occurred. Hundreds and even thousands of housewives, not only the ignorant but the more intelligent, immediately upon witnessing or being informed of such an important event, make preparation, on the part of themselves and their households, if any are felt to be necessary, for the reception of the visitors who are sure to arrive within the time indicated by the omen. Some, but not so many, add to this the superstition that the involuntary twitching of the eye-lid or itching of the eyebrow indicates the coming of visitors in the same manner; and many a projected absence from the house is deferred by our good ladies, from one or another of these omens and the impression that by absence at that particular time they may lose the opportunity of seeing valued friends.

Next in generality, if not even entitled to precedence of the last, is the superstition that the gift of a knife or any sharp article of cutlery, is almost certain to produce estrangement between the giver and the receiver in other words, to “cut friendship.” Ridiculous as the superstition may appear, there is scarcely one of either sex who does not pay some respect to it; and of one thousand knives that may happen to be transferred between intimate friends (and lovers) it is safe to say that not less than nine hundred and ninety have the omen guarded against by a half playful demand and acceptance of some small coin in return, giving the transfer some slight fiction of being a mercantile transaction. The statistics of how many loves or friendships have really been severed by non-attention to this important precaution, might be somewhat difficult to compile, and the attempt need not be made in this connection.

Thousands of musically inclined young ladies have serious objections to singing before breakfast, quoting, not altogether jocularly, the proverb that “one who sings before breakfast will cry [weep] before night,” which no doubt had its origin in a proverb derived from the Orientals, that that

“The bird which singeth in the early morn,
Ere night by cruel talons will be torn.”

Not less unaccountable, and yet impressive, are some of the superstitions connected with marriage, death, and the departure of friends. A belief very generally prevails that when a couple enter a church to be married, if the bride steps at all in advance of the bridegroom, he will be found an unwilling and unfaithful husband; while if the opposite should happen to be the order of precedence, even by a few inches, the marriage tie will prove a happy and long-enduring one. The belief that the bridal hour should occur during clear weather, is perhaps a natural one, and derived from well-understood natural laws affecting the physical systems of those entering into such intimate relations; but the superstition goes further and considers sunshine on the bridal day a specific against all the possible ills of matrimonial life. This feeling supplies half of a doggrel couplet which came to us from the Saxons, and which blends marriage and burial somewhat singularly:

“Happy is the bride that the sun shines on;
And blessed is the corpse that the rain rains on.”

There are thousands of persons who have objections to counting the number of carriages at a funeral, from the superstition that the one who does so will very soon be called to attend a funeral at home; and the same objection exists to putting on, even for a moment, any portion of a mourning garb worn by another, under the impression that the temporary wearer will in some way be influenced to wear mourning very soon for some lost relative. No doubt fifty other and similar superstitions connected with death and burial might be adduced, even without alluding to those of more frightful import and now very little regarded, which belong more peculiarly to the Eastern world, and which inculcate the leaving open of a window at the moment of death, to allow the unrestrained flight of the passing soul, and reprobate the leaving of any open vessel of water in the vicinity of the death-chamber, in the fear that the disembodied spirit, yet weak and untried of wing, may fall therein and perish!

One more superstition, connected with the departure of friends, must be noted the more peculiarly as there is a sad beauty in the thought. Very many nervous and excitable people fear to look after those who are going away on long journeys or dangerous enterprises, under the fear that such a look after them may prevent their return. One peculiar instance of the indulgence of this superstition, and its apparent fulfilment, happens to have fallen under notice, during the present struggle. When the President’s first call for volunteers was made, among those who responded was one young lad of eighteen, a mere handsome boy in appearance and altogether delicate in constitution, who left a comfortable position to fulfil what he believed to be a stern duty. He had two female cousins, of nearly his own age, and with whom he had been in close intimacy. Going away hurriedly, with little time to bestow on farewells, he called to bid them good-bye one dark and threatening night. Some tears of emotion were shed, and the sad farewell was spoken. When he passed down the walk, both the cousins stood without the door and watched his figure as it grew dimmer and disappeared in the dusk of the distant street. When they returned to the cheerfulness of the lighted room, the younger burst into tears.

“We have doomed him,” she said. “We watched him when he went away, and looked after him as long as he could be seen. He will never come back. His young life will fade out and disappear, just as we saw him fading away in the darkness.”

A month later the young soldier was dead; and something more than ordinary reasoning will be necessary to persuade the two cousins the younger and more impressive, especially that their gazing after him did not cast an evil omen on his fate and a blight upon his life. Another near relative has since gone away on the same patriotic errand; but when the farewells were spoken in the lighted room, the two girls escaped at once and hid themselves in another apartment, so that they should not even see him disappear through the door. When last heard from, fever and bullet had yet spared him; and what more is needed to make the two young girls hopelessly superstitious for life, at least in this one regard? They are not the only persons who have seen and felt that fading out in the darkness as an omen; for the same observer who once stood on the bluff at Long Branch, as a heavy night of storm was closing, and saw the “Star of the West” gradually fade away and disappear into that threatening storm and darkness unconscious that she was to emerge again to play so important a part in the drama of the nation’s degradation, the same observer saw the same omen at Niblo’s not long ago, when the poor Jewess of Miss Bateman’s wonderful “Leah” fell back step by step into the crowd, as the curtain was dropping, her last hope withered and her last duty done, and nothing remaining but to “follow on with my people.”

And at all such times Proserpine comes back, as she may have cast wistful glances towards the vanishing home of her childhood, when the rude hands of the ravishers were bearing her away from the spot where she was gathering flowers in the vale of Enna; and we think of Orpheus taking that fatal, wistful last look back at Eurydice, with the thought in his eyes that could not give her up even for a moment, when emerging to the outer air from the flames and smoke of Tartarus. Wistful glances back at all we have lost are embodied; and all these long, agonizing appeals of the eye against that fate of separation which cannot be longer combated with tongue or hand, are made over again for our torture.

It has been said that some persons endeavor to deceive themselves with reference to their holding any belief in omens and auguries. And some of those who by position and education should be lifted above gross errors, are quite as liable as others to this self-deception. Quite a large circle of prominent persons may remember an instance in which a leading Doctor of Divinity, renowned for his strong common-sense as well as beloved for his goodness, was joining in a general conversation on human traits and oddities, when one of the company alluded to popular superstitions and acknowledged that he had one, though only one that of the “moon over the shoulder.” Another confessed to another, and still another to another, while the Doctor “pished” and “pshawed” at each until he made him heartily ashamed of his confession. The man of the lunar tendencies, however, had a habit of bearding lions, clerical as well as other, and he at last turned on the Doctor.

“Do you mean to say that you have no superstitions whatever, Doctor?” he asked.

“None whatever,” said the Doctor, confidently.

“You have no confidence in supernatural revelations in any relation of life?” pursued the questioner.

“None whatever,” repeated the Doctor.

“And you never act try, now, if you please, to remember you never act under impression from any omen that does not appeal to reason, or are made more or less comfortable by the existence of one? In other words, is there no occurrence that ever induces you to alter your course of action, when that occurrence has nothing whatever to do with the object in view, and when you can give no such explanation to yourself as you would like to give to the outside world, for the feeling or the change?”

“There is nothing of the kind,” replied the Doctor to this long question. Then he suddenly seemed to remember paused, and colored a little as he went on. “I acknowledge my error, gentlemen,” he said. “I have a superstition, though I never before thought of it in the light of one. I am rendered exceedingly uncomfortable, and almost ready to turn back, if a cat, dog or other animal chances to run across the way before me, at the moment when I am starting upon any journey.”

The laugh which began to run round the company was politely smothered in compliment to the good Doctor’s candor; but the fact of a universal superstition of some description or other was considered to be very prettily established.

But the conversation did not end here; and one who had before borne little part in it a man of some distinction in literary as well as political life, was drawn out by what had occurred, to make a statement with reference to himself which exhibited another phenomenon in supernaturalist belief a man who not only had a superstition and acknowledged it, but could give a reason for holding it.

“Humph!” he said, “some of you have superstitions and acknowledge them without showing that you have any grounds for your belief; and the Doctor, who has also a superstition, does not seem to have been aware of it before. Now I am a believer in the supernatural, and I have had cause to be so.”

“Indeed I and how?” asked some member of the company.

“As thus,” answered the believer. “And I will tell you the story as briefly as I can and still make it intelligible, from the fact that a severe head-ache is the inevitable penalty of telling it at all. I resided in a country section of a neighboring State, some twenty years-ago; and about three miles distant, in another little hamlet of a dozen or two houses, lived the young lady to whom I was engaged to be married. My Sundays were idle ones, and as I was busy most of the week, I generally spent the afternoon of each Sunday, and sometimes the whole of the day, at the house of my expectant bride, whom I will call Gertrude for the occasion. I kept no horse, and habitually walked over to the village. I had never ridden over, let it be borne in mind, as that is a point of interest. I very seldom rode anywhere, and Gertrude had never seen me on horseback.

“It happened, as I came out from my place of boarding, one fine Sunday afternoon in mid-winter, that one of the neighbors, who kept a number of fine horses, was bringing a couple of them out for exercise. They were very restive, and he complained that they stood still too much and needed to have the spirit taken out of them a little. I laughingly replied that if he would saddle one, I would do him that favor; and he threw the saddle on a very fast running-mare, and mounted me. Accordingly, and of course from what appeared a mere accident, I rode over to the place of my destination.

“There was a small stable behind the house occupied by the family of my betrothed, across a little garden-lot, and I rode round the house without dismounting, to care for my horse. As I passed the house, I saw Gertrude standing at the door, and looking frightfully ill and pale. I hurried to the stables, threw the saddle from my horse, and returned instantly to the house. Gertrude met me at the door, threw herself into my arms (a demonstration not habitual) and sobbed herself almost into hysterics and insensibility. I succeeded in calming her a little, and she then informed me of the cause of her behavior. She was frightened to death at seeing me come on horseback; and the reason she gave for this was that the night before she had dreamed that I came on horseback that her brother, a young man in mercantile business a few miles away, also came on horseback (his usual habit) and that while her brother and myself were riding rapidly together, I was thrown and his horse dashed out my brains with his hoofs!

“Here was a pleasant omen, or would have been to a believer in the supernatural; but I belonged to the opposite extreme. I laughed at Gertrude’s fears, and finally succeeded in driving them away, though with great difficulty, by the information that her brother had gone West the day before and could not possibly be riding around in this section, seeking my life with a horse-shoe. She was staggered but not satisfied I could see that fact in her eye. Still she shook off the apparent feeling, and we joined the family. Half an hour after, her brother rode up and stabled his horse he having been accidentally prevented leaving for the West as arranged. At this new confirmation of her fears, very flattering to me but very inconvenient, Gertrude fell into another fit of frightened hysterics; nothing being said to any of the members of the family, however. I succeeded in chasing away this second attack, with a few more kisses and a little less scolding than before. With the lady again apparently pacified, we rejoined the company, and the evening passed in music and conversation. The shadow did not entirely leave the face of Gertrude, and she watched me continually. For myself, I had no thought whatever on the subject, except sorrow for her painful hallucination.

“At about ten o’clock, the brother rose to go for his horse, and I accompanied him to look after mine but not to go home, for the “courting” hours the dearest of all were yet to come. At the stable, as he was mounting, we talked of the speed of his horse and of the one I rode; and he bantered me to mount and ride with him a mile. There was a splendid stretch of smooth road for a couple of miles on his way, and without a moment’s thought of Gertrude I threw the saddle on my horse and rode away with him, the people at the house being altogether unaware that I had gone farther than to the stables.

“I have no idea what set us to horse-racing on that Sunday night; but race we did. Both horses had good foot and the road was excellent, though the night was dusky. Before we had gone half a mile we were going at top speed. When we reached the end of the hard road he was a little ahead, and I banteringly called to him to ‘repeat.’ He wheeled at once, and away we went like the wind. From turning behind, I had a little the start, and kept it. Perhaps we were fifty yards from the house, when my mare stepped on a stone, as I suppose, and went down, throwing me clear of the stirrups, up in the air like a rocket, and down on my head like a spile-driver. I of course lay insensible with a crushed skull; and the brother was so near behind and going at such speed that he could not have stopped, even if he had known what was the matter.

“Noise lights confusion. Gertrude bending over me in hysteric screams so they told me afterwards. Part of the hair was gone from one side of my head, dashed off by the foot of the brother’s horse, that had just thus narrowly missed dashing out my few brains. That is all, gentlemen. The dream-prophecy was fulfilled within that hair’s-breadth (excuse the bad pun), by a succession of circumstances that were not arranged by human motion and could not have been expected from anything in the past; and until some one can explain or reason away the coincidence, I shall not give up my belief that dreams are sometimes revelations.”

Perhaps it is idle to enter upon any speculations as to the origin of these superstitions in the human mind; as they may almost be held to be a part of nature, having a corresponding development in all countries and all ages. Some of the worst and most injurious of superstitions those which involve the supposed presence of the dead, of haunting spectres and evil spirits, destroying the nerves and paralyzing the whole system unquestionably have much of their origin in the “bug-a-boo” falsehoods told to children by foolish mothers and careless nurses, to frighten them into “being good.” Thousands of men as well as women never recover from the effects of these crimes against the credulous faith of childhood for they are no less. Then there are particular passages in our literature, sacred and profane, which do their share at-upholding the belief in the supernatural, especially as connected with the uninspired foretelling of future events “fortune-telling.” The case of the Witch of Endor and her invocation of the spirit of Samuel, which is given in Holy Writ as an actual occurrence and no fable, of course takes precedence of all others in influence; and the superstitious man who is also a religionist, always has the one unanswerable reply ready for any one who attempts to reason away the idea of occult knowledge: “Ah, but the Witch of Endor: what will you do with her? If the Bible is true and you would not like to doubt that she was a wicked woman, not susceptible to prophetic influences, and yet she did foretell the future and bring up the spirits of the dead. If this was possible then, why not now?”

From the church we pass to the theatre, and from the Book of all Books to that which nearest follows it in the sublimity of its wisdom Shakspeare. No one doubts “Hamlet” much more than the First Book of Samuel, and yet the play is altogether a falsehood if there is no revelation made to the Prince of the guilt of his Uncle; and the spiritual character of the revelation is not at all affected by the question whether Hamlet saw or thought he saw the ghost of his murdered father. Again comes “Macbeth,” and though we may allow Banquo’s ghost to be altogether a diseased fancy of the guilty man’s brain, yet the whole story of the temptation is destroyed unless the witches on the blasted heath really make him true prophecies for false purposes. These sublime fancies appeal to our eyes, and through the eyes to our beliefs, night after night and year after year; and if they do not create a superstition in any mind previously clear of the influence, they at least prevent the disabuse of many a mind and preserve from ridicule what would else be contemptible.

It was with reference to fortune-telling especially that this discussion of our predominant superstitions commenced; and this indefensibly episodical chapter must close with a mere suggestion as to the extent to which that imposition is practised in our leading cities. Very few, it may be suspected, know how prevalent is this superstition among us quite equivalent to the gipsy palmistry of the European countries. Of very late years it has principally become “spiritualism” and the fortune-tellers are oftener known as “mediums” than by the older appellation; and scarcely one of the impostors but pretends to physic the body as well as cure the soul; but the old leaven runs through all, and all classes have some share in the speculation. Sooty negresses, up dingy stairs, are consulted by ragged specimens of their own color, as to the truth of the allegation that too much familiarity has been exercised by an unauthorized “culled pusson” towards a certain wife or husband, or as to the availability of a certain combination of numbers in a fifty cent investment at that exciting game known as “policies” or “4-11-44,” erewhile the peculiar province of that Honorable gentleman who (more or less) wrote “Fort Lafayette.” And, per contra, more pretentious witches (the women have monopolized the trade almost altogether, of late years) are consulted by fair girls who come in their own carriages, as to the truth or availability of a lover or the possibility of recovering lost affections or stolen property. How many of those seeresses are “mediums” for the worst of communications, or how many per centum of the habitues of such places go to eventual ruin, it is not the purpose of this chapter to inquire.

There are three recognized “centres” in the loyal States each a city, and supposed to be an enlightened one. New York, the commercial, monetary and even military centre; Boston, the literary and intellectual; and Washington, the governmental and diplomatic. Taking up at random the first three dailies of a certain date, at hand one from each of the three cities the following regular advertisers are shown, quoting from each of the three “astrology” columns and omitting the directions.

New York: eleven. N. “Madame Wilson, a bona-fide astrologist, that every one can depend on. Tells the object of your visit as soon as you enter; tells of the past, present and future of your life, warns you of danger, and brings success out of the most perilous undertakings. N.B. Celebrated magic charms.” N. “Madame Morrow, seventh daughter, has foresight to tell how soon and how often you marry, and all you wish to know, even your thoughts, or no pay. Lucky charms free. Her magic image is now in full operation.” N. “The Gipsey Woman has just arrived. If you wish to know all the secrets of your past and future life, the knowledge of which will save you years of sorrow and care, don’t fail to consult the palmist.” N. “Cora A. Seaman, independent clairvoyant, consults on all subjects, both medical and business; detects diseases of all kinds and prescribes remedies; gives invaluable advice on all matters of life.” N. “Madame Ray is the best clairvoyant and astrologist in the city. She tells your very thoughts, gives lucky numbers, and causes speedy marriages.” N. “Madame Clifford, the greatest living American clairvoyant. Detects diseases, prescribes remedies, finds absent friends, and communes clairvoyantly with persons in the army.” N. “Madame Estelle, seventh daughter, can be consulted on love, marriage, sickness, losses, business, lucky numbers and charms. Satisfaction guaranteed.” N. “Mrs. Addie Banker, medical and business clairvoyant, successfully treats all diseases, consults on business, and gives invaluable advice on all matters of life.” N. “Who has not heard of the celebrated Madame Prewster, who can be consulted with entire satisfaction? She has no equal. She tells the name of future wife or husband also that of her visitor.” N. “The greatest wonder in the world is the accomplished Madame Byron, from Paris, who can be consulted with the strictest confidence on all affairs of life. Restores drunken and unfaithful husbands; has a secret to make you beloved by your heart’s idol; and brings together those long separated.” N. “Madame Widger, clairvoyant and gifted Spanish lady; unveils the mysteries of futurity, love, marriage, absent friends, sickness; prescribes medicines for all diseases; tells lucky numbers, property lost or stolen, &c.”

Boston: thirteen. N. “The great astrologer.

“The road to wedlock would you know,
Delay not, but to Baron go.
A happy marriage, man or maid,
May be secured by Baron’s aid.

“He will reveal secrets no living mortal ever knew. No charge for causing speedy marriages and showing likenesses of friends.” N. “Astonishing to all I Madame Wright, the celebrated astrologist, born with a natural gift to tell all the events of your life, even your very thoughts and whether you are married or single; how many times you will marry; will show the likeness of your present and future husband and absent friends; will cause speedy marriages; tells the object of your visit. Her equal is not to be found has astonished thousands by her magic power.” N. “Madame F. Gretzburg will ensure to whoever addresses her, giving the year of their birth and their complexion, a correct written delineation of their character, and a statement of their past, present and future lives. All questions regarding love, marriage, absent friends, business, or any subject within the scope of her clear, discerning spiritual vision, will be promptly and definitely answered ... so far as she with her great and wonderful prophetic and perceptive powers, can see them.” N. “Prof. A.F. Huse, seer and magnetic physician. The Professor’s great power of retrovision, his spontaneous and lucid knowledge of one’s present life and affairs, and his keen forecasting of one’s future career,” etc. N. “Mrs. King will reveal the mysteries of the past, present and future, and describe absent friends, and is very successful in business matters. Also has an article that causes you good luck in any undertaking, whether business or love, and can be sent by mail to any address.” N. “Mrs. Frances, clairvoyant, describes past, present and forthcoming events, and all kinds of business and diseases. Has medicines,” etc. N. “Prof. Lyster, astrologer and botanic physician.” N. “Madame Wilder, the world-renowned fortune-teller and independent clairvoyant ... is prepared to reveal the mysteries of the past, present and future.” N. “Madame Roussell, independent clairvoyant, is prepared to reveal the mysteries of the past, present and future.” N. “Madame Jerome Nurtnay, the celebrated Canadian seeress and natural clairvoyant, ... will reveal the present and future.” (This one clairvoyant, it will be observed, has no past.) N. “Mrs. Yah, clairvoyant and healing medium ... will examine and heal the sick, and also reveal business affairs, describe absent friends, and call names. Has been very successful in recovering stolen property.” N. “Madame Cousin Cannon, the only world-renowned fortune-teller and independent clairvoyant,” etc. N. “Madame Mont ... would like to be patronized by her friends and they public, on the past, present and future events.”

Washington: nine. N. “Madame Ross, doctress and astrologist. Was born with a natural gift was never known to fail. She can tell your very thoughts, cause speedy marriages, and bring together those long separated.” N. “Mrs. L. Smith, a most excellent test and healing medium sees your living as well as deceased friends, gets names, reads the future.” N. (Here we have the first male name, as well as apparently the most dangerously powerful of all). “Mons. Herbonne, from Paris. Clairvoyant, seer and fortune-teller. Reads the future as well as the past, and has infallible charms. Can cast the horoscope of any soldier about going into battle, and foretell his fate to a certainty.” N. “Madame Bushe, powerful clairvoyant and influencing medium. Has secrets for the obtaining of places desired under government, and love-philters for those who have been unfortunate in their attachments.” No, 6, 7, 8 and 9 differing not materially from those before cited as able to read the past, present and future, rejoin the parted and influence the whole future life.

And here, as by this time Tom Leslie must certainly have accomplished his business in Broome Street, and Joe Harris and Bell Crawford sipped and eaten themselves into an indigestion at Taylor’s this examination of a subject little understood must cease, to allow the three to carry out their projected folly. But really how much have superior education and increasing intelligence done to clear away the grossest of impositions and to discourage the most audacious experiments upon public patience? And yet what shall be said of the facts uncolored and undeniable facts narrated in a subsequent chapter?