A Manx Wizard in Victorian Liverpool June 30, 2020
Author: Beach Combing | in : Modern , trackback
Introducing the Magic Mersey
Between 9 March 1857 and 22 June of the same year the Liverpool Mercury ran a series of thirteen articles on ‘fortune-tellers and their dupes’. I’ve just published these articles (about 30,000 words) in a pamphlet entitled: The Wizards, Astrologers, Fairy Seers and Witches of Victorian Liverpool.* Taken together they are an extraordinary record of folk magic in Victorian Liverpool with illegal abortion, seduction, prostitution and appalling acts of animal cruelty thrown in for good measure. I can’t think of any other British urban centre with a similar written record from the nineteenth century. Now let me introduce you to the Manx Wizard…
Enter the Manx Wizard
The anonyomous author of the articles was a magical Mayhew who professed not to like his anthropological trips into the sub-Christian underbelly of the city. But he had a certain gift for infiltrating magical circles and astrologists’ offices. The Manx Wizard was one of his contacts. We learn that the Wizard had, some seventeen years before, been a porter in a ‘respectable establishment’, but that he had subsequently turned to magic to make his living, a talent he had learnt from his mom.
His mother, according to his own account, was possessed of extraordinary prescient powers, and of secrets in the black art known but to few. For hours he had watched her working to spell-bind her enemies, and he had never known her curse another without mischief to the cursed one following. He professed to know most of her secrets.
He had ruined his boss, where he had portered, through magic and had then killed another by a curse. On religious matters he was what we might call a ‘free thinker’.
He laboured under the impression that evil was all powerful, and that mankind was governed, and could only be governed, by trickery, falsehood, and villany. He contended stoutly against the existence of God, and founded his unbelief on his knowledge of human nature.
He had then become a ‘card prophet’ and the author takes us into his sanctum:
An old bedstead, without roof or curtains, occupied one side of the room, and a few ricketty chairs stood here and there. On the window ledge a large oval crystal generally lay on Barrett’s Magus, a book he professed to value highly.
He was one of these sorry souls who makes lots of money but seems unable to keep any of it. The anonymous journalist gives us, then, some remarkable scenes of his banter with clients from all social classes. Again I can’t think of anything like this written account from any other British city in Victorian times. You can almost smell the whisky breath and his irritable fury was evidently what keeps the moths coming back to the flame.
Case Study One
One of his customers was ‘a young girl, neatly attired, and of pleasing exterior’.
‘Thee’s mighty modest tonight,’ he said, looking savagely at her; ‘what dost thee want to know?’
‘My fortune, sir,’ she said, tremblingly.
‘Cut,’ said he, handing her the cards.
She did so, and he spread them out on the table.
‘Ay, a pretty fortune thee’s likely to make of it; who’s this?’ showing her a queen of clubs.
‘My aunt, sir.’
‘What is she cross wi’ thee for?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Thee doesn’t know!’ and out he poured some horrid epithets. ‘Don’t come here to lie,’ and he let his hand fall heavily on the table, swearing fearfully. ‘Thee knows who that is, then?’ throwing down the king of hearts.
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, and who’s that?’ pointing to the king of spades.
‘My cousin.’
‘And thee doesn’t know what thy aunt’s cross about?’ he said, and again heaped upon her the vilest of epithets. ‘Isn’t one enough for thee? Mischief will come to thee, and then thee’ll be put out of the house. I see what thee wants to know’, said he, shuffling the cards again; ‘cut’.
The girl again cut the cards, and when they were spread out he said, ‘Thee’s all right yet; but who’s this dark man that carries a whip?’
‘A sweetheart,’ she said, with a forced laugh.
‘A sweetheart! He’ll be a sour heart to thee. Thee had better take care. What age is thee?’
‘Seventeen.’
‘Is he a bus driver?’
‘He’s a carman.’
‘He won’t marry thee, that I tell thee; and if thee keeps company with him thee’lt make the parish a present afore thee’s nineteen. [i.e. she’ll get pregnant] There’s thy fortune,’ said he, putting aside the cards.
Case Study Two
The second customer is ‘a slatternly woman about thirty years of age’.
‘Well, what’s thee been after? Thee’s not been here these five weeks.’
‘I’ve been to the country’; and when she had sat down she said, ‘I want to know when my man’ll be at home?’
‘A deal thee cares about thy man.’
She cut the cards, and he laid them out with his usual dexterity.
‘Thee’s had a letter from him?’
‘No.’
‘There’s one on the way, then. Thee’ll get it in two or three days. He’s gone to Australia?’
‘Nay, America,’ she said.
‘Didst ever know me tell lies?’
This question seemed to puzzle her.
‘He sailed from here to America.’
‘That I know as well as thee, but he has sailed from America to Australia, and it’s a good job for thee he didn’t come home; but thee’lt get into trouble yet with this fair man.’
‘What fair man?’ asked she.
‘What fair man! I’ll tell thee what fair man. Who was in the house with thee last night?’
‘You are the very devil,’ said the woman; ‘one can’t deceive you.’
‘It’s no use for the like of thee to try it,’ said he; ‘a pretty life thee’s leading, and a pretty thing thy husband will find thee when he does come home.’
‘But when will he come?’ she asked. The cards were shuffled, and she again cut them.
‘I see no signs of his coming; but here’s a loss for thee thee’lt be glad of. One of thy children will die soon.’
‘Well, Heaven take it,’ said she; ‘it will be better off than stopping here.’
‘Ay, than in thy keeping,’ said he. ‘Here’s the letter,’ referring to the cards; ‘it has money in it. The great fool for sending it thee!’
‘Will the fair man be true;’ asked the woman.
‘As true as thee is to thy husband.’
More of the Same?
Manx Wizard has two other clients after this who are dealt with in a similarly gentle fashion. I’m curious whether other ‘transcripts’ of this type survive from the nineteenth century. I certainly don’t know any that go into this detail: drbeachcombing AT gmail DOT com
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