I. The Juggler (or Magician). A man in a wide-brimmed hat, or above whose head is suspended the sign for infinity; on the table in front of him, a collection of magical paraphernalia, including coins, a knife, a tumbler, and juggling balls. In the opinion of de Gébelin, this card signifies the haphazard and illusory nature of all existence; man is like a little ball, who may disappear from the magician’s hand in the batting of an eye. The lesson? Don’t delay—put your abilities to constructive use; the attainment of your aims will depend on your own determination and initiative.
II. The High Priestess (or Female Pope). A woman in papal robes and three-tiered headdress, seated on a throne and holding a scroll or book in her hands. The perplexing iconography is based on a thirteenth-century rumor, which suggested that a woman named Joan, disguised as a man, had actually succeeded to the papal throne. Once the ruse was uncovered, she was promptly stoned to death. The card itself suggests that the whole truth is never revealed to anyone but the select and initiated; its message seems to be that you should resist being ruled by a member of the opposite sex and use the full measure of your intellect to seek the truth.
III. The Empress. A regal woman with flowing hair, holding a scepter and shield, which symbolize her dominion over all things of this earth. Sometimes she is pictured with a red rose at the neckline of her long gown, to suggest her warmth and kindness. The Empress stands for such things as fruitfulness, pleasure, and comfort, and her message is that you should show generosity, even munificence, toward those around you.
IV. The Emperor (or King). Think Charlton Heston for this one—a mature man with an imposing demeanor, commanding the throne with casual assurance. Not surprisingly, the card suggests such things as power, wealth, and patriarchy. The advice it conveys to you is twofold: stick to the higher principles, those that would be handed down by a wise and powerful leader, but at the same time avoid the curse of inflexibility.
V. The Hierophant (or Pope). An elderly man, often depicted with a long beard and full mustache; his right hand is raised, with two upright fingers making the ancient sign that was meant to convey both a blessing and the universality of dualism. This card represents spirituality and tradition, and its message is to embrace the new and forgo the useless relics of the past. It also suggests that you should be generous but careful in bestowing your largesse—make sure you know where it’s going.
VI. The Lovers. Sometimes they’re shown as Adam and Eve, naked in the Garden of Eden; sometimes there’s one man, shown making a choice between two women (one of which is virtue, the other vice); sometimes several couples are seen dancing. The card speaks to the choices that have to be made between body and mind, good and evil, and of course, the choices that have to be made when choosing a mate. If the card could speak, it would say, guard yourself against immoral influences and make your choice wisely; be decisive, but do remember, no choice ever gets you everything you want.
VII. The Chariot. An armored warrior, godlike in his powers, steers a chariot drawn by a team of horses, or, in many decks, by a white sphinx and a black sphinx. The charioteer has conquered the elemental forces, and his card signifies triumph and conflict, success in overcoming adversity. To you, it might warn against acting rashly or rejoicing in a triumph too soon (sometimes defeat can still be snatched from the jaws of victory). Yes, success should be relished, but not so much that you lose sight of how things really stand.
VIII. Justice. A serene and clear-eyed woman, in a long robe, holding a scale or, in some instances, a double-edged sword. In some depictions, her hair is braided around her neck, as if it were a hangman’s noose; this may imply that humans are responsible for their own fates and sometimes act unwisely in that regard. The woman represents such virtues as righteousness, balance, and purity, and her card is a warning to resist impure temptations, restore balance to your life, and make your own decisions. (In some tarot decks, this card and card XI, Strength, change places.)
IX. The Hermit. An old man in a hooded robe, carrying a staff and a lantern; the staff represents knowledge, mankind’s most enduring support, and the lantern refers to illumination and contemplation. (The hermit is also tied to Diogenes, who carried a lamp in his search for an honest man.) The hermit signifies a life of introspection and secret wisdom, hard-won and all the more valuable for it. His message is to seek out and to share that wisdom and to use it in making future plans.
X. The Wheel of Fortune. An eight-spoked wheel, often seen with the sphinx sitting atop it. Life, the wheel suggests, is a cycle, and things are constantly going around and around, changing as they do. On some cards, a young man is seen ascending, a grown man descending, and an old man crawling on all fours. Be patient, the card suggests, because bad luck now will change to good, and opportunities will present themselves. By the same token, don’t gloat when things start going your way; that, too, will pass.
XI. Strength (or Fortitude). A young girl bending down, her hands on the open mouth of a lion. It’s not entirely clear, however, whether she’s prying the jaws of the lion open or trying to clamp them shut. Still, the picture is generally thought to represent the triumph of love over brute strength, not to mention the power of conviction and courage. Its message? You should confront dangers and obstacles with a firm sense of purpose and seek reconciliation with a foe.
XII. The Hanged Man. A man hanging upside down, from a gallows or tree, with one leg crossed behind the other. Sometimes he’s holding a sack of coins, which are spilling out; sometimes the money is just pouring from his open pockets. In the Middle Ages, debtors were occasionally punished by being hung upside down, so that’s what this probably signifies. A connection has also been drawn to Judas Iscariot, who hanged himself from a tree after collecting his thirty pieces of silver. The message of the card is sacrifice and renunciation, and it suggests you should right any wrongs you may have committed, and think about living your life differently (and better) than you have been.
XIII. Death. A skeleton in armor, armed with a scythe, and sometimes riding a white horse. With the blade of his weapon, he has cut down all the life around him, so zealously that on some cards the reaper appears to have cut off his own foot, too; in the background, fields are littered with the bodies and body parts of kings, popes, and peasants—though new plants can also be seen springing forth from the ground. Strangely enough, most tarotists give this card a more upbeat reading than you’d think—the card is thought to suggest regeneration and the transitory nature of the material world. Its advice to you? Break free from the shackles that bind you and set off in a new direction.
XIV. Temperance (or Balance). An angel carrying two urns, with one foot in a stream and the other still on the bank. The water or wine contained in the pair of urns is continually poured from one into the other, signifying the essence of life and its passage from the invisible to the visible, then back again to the invisible. The meaning of the card is moderation and self-restraint, compromise and peaceful accommodation. For you, it might also suggest keeping balance in your life by avoiding taking on too many things at once.
XV. The Devil. A satyrlike and winged demon, with the hindquarters of a goat, holding a lighted torch. The torch may represent the fire of destruction, though on some cards (where the torch is unlit) it may represent the absence of spiritual enlightenment. Either way, the card overall is jam-packed with negative energies, implying everything from self-indulgence and immoral conduct to violence, mockery, and fits of temper. To you, it might suggest overcoming the primitive forces of the id and exercising some caution and self-restraint. Allowing the Devil to take precedence in your life would be to concede the victory of matter over spirit.
XVI. The Tower. A crown-topped battlement, its roof being split by a bolt of lightning emanating from the sun. Sometimes the Tower is thought to be the Tower of Babel, while at other times it’s considered a representation of the divine nature of man; when the top is blown off, man falls into the material world below, as is shown by the two figures of a man an
d a woman hurtling to the ground. Although being thrown from the top of a tower might seem a bit drastic, it is also used as a way to show the importance of breaking with the past and taking a new direction in life. For you, the card might mean it’s time to think things through in a new fashion, or take up a challenge, like a new job in a distant city. It’s also a warning not to let pride and conceit blind you, for those qualities eventually lead to a downfall.
XVII. The Stars. A young girl kneels, naked, by a pool of water under eight stars—one large one and seven smaller. In keeping with the ancient astrological view, the central star is earth, with seven others—the planets then known—revolving around it. Sometimes the star is tied to the Star of Bethlehem, which guided the magi to the birthplace of Christ. The pool may represent the waters of life, and the urns which the maiden uses suggest the pouring forth of new ideas and rejuvenating energy. Full of hope and optimism and fulfillment, the card advises you to feel confidence in your future and be emotionally expressive to others.
XVIII. The Moon. The moon rises between two towers—one dark and one light—and a winding path recedes into the far distance. In the foreground, two dogs bay, and a crawfish clambers onto shore. An eerie scene, it suggests the path of wisdom, which man must follow, by the partial light of the moon (a reference to human, as opposed to divine, reason), after crawling up, like the crawfish, from the pool of illusion. The card calls up envy and deceit, slander and dissimulation. To you, it might be a reminder that all is not as it seems and that aiming at unrealizable goals is futile and fruitless.
XIX. The Sun. The sun shines down upon (and sometimes sheds tears over) a boy and girl, innocent and unclothed within a walled garden. Eliphas Lévi contended that the two children represented Faith and Reason, the two feet upon which every man must stand; that the children were nearly naked was a sign that they had nothing to conceal. The card suggests friendship and affection, riches and health, and to you it might encourage enjoying good fortune to the utmost. It also advises you to share the wealth, to spread goodwill wherever you go.
XX. Judgment. A winged angel, presumably Gabriel, blows the celestial trumpet, and dead men and women rise from their graves. This card represents the freeing of man’s nature from the mortal coil and the material world below, and it offers the same to you—forgiveness and renewal, tempered by accountability for your previous life and actions.
XXI. The World (or Universe). A woman whose body is lightly veiled, enclosed by a green wreath, which suggests nature. In the four corners of the card, the four elements and evangelists are symbolically suggested. In the upper left corner, we see air, and an angel representing Matthew. In the upper right, we see water, and an eagle representing John. In the lower left, earth, along with a bull representing Luke. In the lower right, fire, and a lion symbolizing Mark. As the last of the cards in the Greater Arcana, this one indicates completion and finality, the arrival at your destination after a long trip. To you, it might also indicate that all the wealth in the world is nothing compared to true awareness and mastery over the things around you.
MOTHER SHIPTON AND THE CHESHIRE PROPHET
Although their fame spread less widely than that of Nostradamus—and their very existence has sometimes been called into question—the two English seers known as Mother Shipton and the Cheshire Prophet were known throughout the British isles. Fifteenth-century contemporaries, they were respectively cast as a witch and a fool, but their prophecies nonetheless have been said to predict everything from the Great Plague to the rise of Oliver Cromwell.
In regard to Mother Shipton’s origins, what records exist seem to point toward the town of Dropping Well, in Knaresborough, Yorkshire; there, a reputed witch named Agatha Southill gave birth to a baby daughter, Ursula, in 1486. Some of the townsfolk claimed that the girl’s father was a necromancer; others, insisting that it was Satan himself, called her the Devil’s Child. Her unfortunate appearance seems to have helped that label stick.
According to Richard Head’s Life and Death of Mother Shipton (1684), her “body was of indifferent height, her head was long, with sharp fiery eyes, her nose of an incredible and un-proportionate length, having many crooks and turnings, adorned with many strange pimples of divers colours, as red, blue, and dirt, which like vapours of brimstone gave such a lustre to her affrighted spectators in the dead time of the night, that one of them confessed several times in my hearing that her nurse needed no other light to assist her in her duties.” Given the undoubted hyperbole of this description, and overlooking the question of how the author managed to interview anyone who had known Mother Shipton (who died in 1561) well over 120 years later, it remains a powerful portrait of a witch whose prophecies were closely studied by kings and commoners for many generations.
Despite her frightening countenance, Ursula seems to have snared a husband, one Tobias Shipton, a carpenter in York, by the time she was twenty-four. Her reputation as a seer gradually began to grow, until word of it had actually reached the court of Henry VIII. Many of her predictions related to prominent figures in the king’s court—Cardinal Woolsey, the powerful prelate, for one. Woolsey had openly declared that he planned to move his household to York, and Mother Shipton, by local accounts, had said he would never reach the city. Woolsey sent three noblemen, in disguise, to meet this seer and find out if she truly had the gift of prophecy.
No sooner had they knocked on her door than she welcomed them in, greeting each one by his proper name and offering them cakes and ale. Their cover blown, the noblemen told her why they’d really come. Mother Shipton then reiterated her prophecy about the cardinal and the city of York, but reminded them, “I said he might see it, but never come to it.” The noblemen, hearing the words from her own lips, warned her that if the cardinal did come, he’d probably have her declared a witch and burn her at the stake.
Mother Shipton was unfazed. Taking a linen handkerchief off her head, she tossed it into the fire, saying, “If this burn, so shall I.” Fifteen minutes later, when she retrieved it, the handkerchief was intact and undamaged.
A short time later, on his way to York, the cardinal himself climbed to the top of a castle tower and saw, about eight miles in the distance, the city of York. But before he could even climb down again, a messenger from the king arrived, with the news that he was urgently needed at court. Turning around, the Cardinal set out for London but fell ill in Leicester and died there.
Score one more for Mother Shipton.
But famous as she was in life, she became even more so after her death. Her prophecies were collected and reprinted, and sometimes even added to by later astrologers. William Lilly, who published one such almanac of her predictions, began by stating, “All I can say is, that I fear they will prove true, more true than most men imagine, as Mother Shipton’s prophecies were never yet questioned either for their verity or antiquity, so look to them to read the future with a certainty and act accordingly.” Many people did just that.
In an account left by the writer and diarist Samuel Pepys, Prince Rupert was sailing up the Thames on October 20, 1666, when he first heard about the great fire ravaging London. “All he said was,” according to Pepys, “now Shipton’s prophecy was out.” The prophetic lines that Prince Rupert must have had in mind read: “Time shall happen. A ship shall sail upon the River Thames till it reach the City of London; the Master shall weep and cry out: ‘Ah, What a flourishing city was this when I left it, unequalled in the World!’ But now scarce a house is left to entertain us with a flagon.” It’s easy to see why the prince jumped to the conclusion he did.
Others did the same, time and time again. In one of her prophecies, Mother Shipton seemed to imply that the town of Yeovil, Somerset, would be struck by an earthquake and flood in 1879; the locals were so worried about it that many of them deserted their homes on the eve of the presumed destruction, while others, who were anxious to catch a sight of the cataclysm, traveled from all over England to be on hand for the spectacle. Which, as we now know, did no
t come to pass. Nor did the end of the world, which another one of the prophecies (almost undoubtedly a later addition, thrown in by the editor) predicted would occur in 1881; still, the fact that it was included in Mother Shipton’s predictions was enough to send waves of panic throughout the English countryside. Villagers spent the night in open fields or in fervent prayer in their churches.
Legend has it that Mother Shipton lived to a fantastically old age, then died at Clifton in Yorkshire. A headstone marking her grave there reads:
“Here lyes she who never ly’d,
Whose skill often has been try’d,
Her Prophecies shall still survive,
And ever keep her name alive.”
Wise as Mother Shipton was considered to be, her counterpart, known as the Cheshire Prophet, was thought to be a sort of idiot savant—a fool who could occasionally glimpse the future without having any notion of what he’d seen.
His name was Robert Nixon, and by most accounts he was the younger son of a farmer who lived in the Vale Royal, Delamere Forest, Cheshire. Born in or about 1467, Nixon led a life of absolute anonymity, performing various simple chores. But every now and then, he would stop whatever he was doing and suddenly blurt out a cryptic prediction, which would, as his neighbors soon began to notice, come true. Most of what he said had only a local relevance, but one day, while plowing a field, he pulled his team to a sudden stop, then gesturing with his whip, shouted, “Now Richard! Now Harry!” He wiped his brow, then cried, “Now Harry, get over that ditch and you will gain the day!”
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