Curry attributes the decline in astrology, at least in part, to religious, political and scientific ridicule. As in previous centuries, attacks from church leaders and loyal rulers continued to plague astrologers. Also, new scientific discoveries brought about a belief in and reliance upon modern empirical science as absolute truth, and scientists in general criticized astrology. In addition to religion and science, British astrologers also had to contend with threats from the legal system:

When astrology fell from grace in the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the words most often used to describe it were "superstition," "enthusiasm" and "ignorance." Such words reflected its stigmatization by the religious, political and scientific authorities respectively. In the nineteenth century, this process acquired a new legal dimension. Coincident with the rise of its new urban incarnation, astrology became criminalized through the use of an obscure part of a Georgian Act "for the Punishment of Idle and Disorderly Persons, and Rogues and Vagabonds …" Section 4 of the Vagrancy Act of 1824 … specifies that the statute applies to "every Person pretending or professing to tell Fortunes, or using any subtle Craft, Means or Device, by Palmistry or otherwise, to deceive and impose on any of His Majesty’s Subjects …" From the middle of the nineteenth century until the early twentieth, astrologers stood in real danger of prosecution and imprisonment.(2)

* * *

[T]hese prosecutions were actively sought by the constabulary and judiciary, using paid informers to entrap the astrologer, and the penalty was usually severe: a prison sentence of up to three months, accompanied or followed by hard labour. Nor was an appeal usually permitted.(3)

As a result of the legal prohibition against astrology, eighteenth century astrologers kept their identities secret and often wrote under assumed names:

One of the unspoken rules during this period was that astrologers wrote under almost any name but their own. Alan Leo was an exception, but even he had legally changed his name before he began to publish. Many of them had quite respectable careers, outside their astrological practices, and the threat of legal action was much stronger then than it is today. To reveal an astrologer’s real name to the world at large was one of the worst insults to be paid, though of course that did not mean it wasn’t going to happen.(4)

In his book, Prophecy and Power, Curry states that the only form of astrology that was generally accepted during the early eighteenth century was "popular astrology," which was contained in annual almanacs. Also known as "low astrology," it included only the most basic information, such as the basic positions of the Sun and Moon, as well as good days for planting. "Judicial astrology," which interpreted character traits and predicted events using a person’s natal chart, was practiced by only a few astrologers during that time.(5) A similar situation existed in the new land known as the United States of America:

Astrology in eighteenth century America was clearly a subject in a state of decline. It did not have the prestige or importance it had had in Renaissance Europe. Its primary vehicle was the lowly almanac, the literature of the semi-literate. No learned tracts were written about it in the colonies, and those which mentioned it in passing are found only early in the century.

Almanacs, which varied from the "lowly" to the base, were indeed almost the only instrument of survival for astrology through the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries…(6)

Raphael’s New Almanac

Robert Cross Smith was born near Bristol, England, in 1795. "Astrology was the young Smith’s longest love, and it seems to have had an immediate and powerful appeal for him." Although the current atmosphere in London, where Smith later lived, was not welcoming toward astrologers, he was determined to practice his trade openly:

Smith's discovery of astrology and the occult was not only against the odds--for in London of the 1820s they had nowhere near their later Victorian popularity--but he also pursued his chosen career tenaciously, despite the obstacles that lack of public recognition caused him.  One reason was that unlike Varley, but like every other major astrologer in this period (and this was a crucial difference), Smith had no alternative source of income.  He was therefore obliged to make astrology pay and, to a considerable extent from this time on, astrology can be seen as a strange amalgam resulting from the collision of ancient astrological tradition with the demands of modern market forces.(7)

Smith explored occult sciences as well and incorporated them into his astrological writing. Because of his contributions in this area, Smith has been described as "the man who more than any other was responsible for the occult revival of the early nineteenth century." In 1822 Smith published his first pamphlet on geomancy, entitled The Philosophical Merlin, which "showed how to predict one’s future geomantically with the minimum of knowledge and complication."(8) Unfortunately, it was not well received by the public. In 1824 Smith became editor of a weekly periodical called The Straggling Astrologer, which was later renamed The Astrologer of the Nineteenth Century, but it soon collapsed. Smith’s publisher rebound and reissued the remaining copies as a book of the same title in 1825. "Here, for the first time, Smith makes his appearance as ‘Raphael, the Metropolitan Astrologer,’"(9) a name "adopted from that of the mystical Hebrew angel of Mercury."(10)

In 1826, feeling discouraged and considering abandoning astrology,

Smith decided on perhaps a final attempt to succeed at what he knew best. This time the plan was for an annual periodical entitled The Prophetic Messenger. The content was to be entirely astrological and/or occult, spiced with not only supernatural sensationalism but also a great deal of prediction, some of it daringly precise. Above all, it contained the innovation of astrological forecasts for every day of the coming year. The Messenger thus differed significantly from both its ancestors … and its possible competitors, such as the hoary and more down-market Moore’s Vox Stellarum.

Smith (now known as Raphael) had found his niche. "The Prophetic Messenger was an instant success: the first run sold out immediately." Smith’s daring approach to the occult sciences in his almanac struck a chord with its new readers:

It seems that Smith’s most adventurous new readers came from the increasingly prosperous and powerful middle classes, people once aptly described as "semi-erudite"—in other words, those sufficiently educated to hunger for quite complex ways in which to understand or enrich their lives, but not so learned that they were willing to confine themselves to the customary sustenance of religion, natural philosophy and polite literature. Indeed, there is a case for saying that those traditional guides had largely failed Smith’s readers, who were therefore ready to seek out stronger meat in their search for instruction in life’s mysteries.(11)

In 1828 Smith published a serious textbook entitled A Manual of Astrology,(12); his Raphael’s Ephemeris has been published since 1832 and is still available today.(13)

Smith died in 1832. Although he was not considered the best astrologer of his day, and indeed other astrologers criticized his sensational approach,(14) he nevertheless helped to restore astrology’s popularity at a crucial point in history. As Curry described him: "[T]he self-invented Raphael, in all his artful unauthenticity, was the genuine modern. As such, it was he who set the future course of modern astrology."(15)

Zadkiel Puts Astrology on Trial

Richard James Morrison was born in 1795, in North London. Soon after retiring from a distinguishing military career, he took up the study of astronomy and astrology. Morrison was a friend of Smith’s, and "by 1824 he was a member of Raphael’s occult group the Mercurii."(16) Inspired by Smith’s success, Morrison began to publish his own almanac in 1830:

Writing under the name of Zadkiel (the Hebrew name for the angel of Jupiter), Morrison started publishing an annual almanac in 1830 (for the year 1831), at first called The Herald of Astrology, later Zadkiel’s Almanac, which followed Smith’s example in varying the technical part (astrological tables and pedagogy) with an attractive icing of marvels and occultism.

Morrison "became the foremost authority on astrology after the death of Robert Cross Smith in 1832" and produced his almanac for over 40 years.(17) He also published several astrological texts, including The Grammar of Astrology (1833) and An Introduction to Astrology (1835), both of which were frequently reprinted.(18)

Throughout his career, Zadkiel was under constant attack from members of the press. "As the foremost representative of his art, … he also became an object of scorn and derision in the pages of the Athenaeum, The Times and other leading organs of the establishment."(19) Curry describes one such exchange:

In 1851, the Athenaeum spluttered, ‘Raphael and Zadkiel continue their trade in the credulity of mankind: growing more and more boastful, vulgar, illogical, and mendacious year by year.’ And from the opposite perspective, though in equally inflated rhetoric, Zadkiel maintained the same thing. As he wrote in The Voice of the Stars, one of his short-lived attempts at a regular astrological publication other than his almanac, astrology ‘has been sick, but not dying; silent, but not destroyed. Struck down by foul calumny, fettered by ignorance, slandered by falsehood, pressed to the earth by prejudice; yet lo! It lives, moves and rises again …’(20)

Morrison witnessed other astrologers being prosecuted under the Vagrancy Act and was determined to petition Parliament to amend the Act and change its language, "excluding enfranchised householders from its terms." He and his attorney friend, Christopher Cooke, drew up such a petition and submitted it to Parliament in 1852. However "it apparently fell victim to the Parliamentary timetable, for it failed to appear in the business of that or any succeeding day. And there, for the time being, the matter rested."(21) Eight years later, Zadkiel faced his greatest challenge:

In 1860 began the most dramatic episode in Zadkiel’s life. Unsurprisingly, given the nature of the man and the subject-matter, it culminated in a public sensation in mid-Victorian society. The tiny stone which triggered the avalanche was a prediction by Zadkiel in his Alamanc for 1861, published in the autumn of 1860. Discussing the full moon in March 1861, Zadkiel wrote,

the stationary position of Saturn in the third degree of Virgo in May, following upon this lunation, will be very evil for all persons born on or near the 26^th August; among the sufferers I regret to see the worthy Prince Consort of these realms. Let such persons pay scrupulous attention to health.

There matters might have rested, had not Prince Albert apparently obliged ‘The Voice of the Stars’ by suddenly dying on 14 December 1861.(22)

Following Prince Albert’s death, a Judge, Alderman Humphrey, "publicly remarked in court on Zadkiel’s apparent accuracy." The Daily Telegraph responded by vehemently attacking Zadkiel’s Alamanac for 1862:

We might pass this rubbishing pamphlet by with contempt; but the publicity it has recently attained demands that it and its author, whoever he may be, should be exposed and denounced. The one is a sham, the other is a swindler. The Alamanc is no mere harmless catchpenny; its contents are calculated to alarm the timid and to mislead the credulous … Who is this Zadkiel, and are there no means of ferreting him out, and hauling him up to Bow Street under the statute as a rogue and a vagabond?(23)

Subsequently, a letter signed "Anti-Humbug" appeared in the Daily Telegraph:

Sir—In your impression of this day you ask who is this Zadkiel, and are there no means of ferreting him out and handing him up to Bow Street under the statute as a rogue and vagabond. I will aid you on the scent by first informing you that he stands as a lieutenant on the Navy List, seniority 1815. … More, I think he gave his name not long since as president of some peculiar society connected with astrology (R.J. Morrison).

Anti-Humbug’s letter accused Zadkiel of fraudulently taking money for his services as a "crystal globe seer" and of having "gulled many of our nobility" by pretending to use a crystal ball to "hold converse with the spirits of the Apostles, even our Saviour, with all the angels of light as well as darkness, and to tell what was going on in any part of the world." Under pressure from Zadkiel, the Daily Telegraph finally revealed the real name of Anti-Humbug: Sir Edward Belcher. "Upon learning Belcher’s identity, Zadkiel demanded a public apology and retraction of the obvious slander. The former refused, so Zadkiel initiated a libel suit."(24)

During the trial in 1863, many distinguished witnesses from the upper crust of society appeared in court to testify on Zadkiel’s behalf, insisting that they had not been deceived by him and had paid no money to him for his crystal ball gazing.(25)

In his instructions to the jury at the conclusion of the trial, the judge stated:

Sir Edward has taken it upon himself to say that the plaintiff, in his past life, has been guilty of wilful imposture, and for the purpose of profit. Therefore you must be satisfied, in order to find for him, not only that he honestly believed that the plaintiff had taken money for a fraudulent exhibition, but that he had such fair grounds for his imputation that his inference was not so unfair as to be reckless. It was true that the exhibition of the crystal ball had been so general as to be public; still, the personal character of the plaintiff was involved in the imputations made upon him, and unless they can be defended, either upon the grounds just stated or upon the plea of justification, then you must find for the plaintiff.

The judge also spoke at length about how ridiculous it was to believe in astrology and told the jury they could take into account the profit Zadkiel made form his almanac in making their award.(26) The jury found Belcher guilty, but Zadkiel’s victory was bittersweet:

[T]he jury found in favor of Morrison but awarded him only 20 shillings (about $100 in today’s money). The Lord Chief Justice refused to assess costs against Sir Edward, so Morrison was vindicated but at considerable cost and annoyance to himself. It did, however, substantially increase the subsequent sales of his almanac.(27)

Assisted by the publicity of the trial (and the obvious support shown by Zadkiel’s followers), Zadkiel’s Almanac continued to grow in popularity. After Morrison’s death in 1874, A.J. Pearce became Zadkiel II and increased sales of the Almanac to over 100,000 before he died in 1923. The almanac itself survived until 1931.(28)

Summary

Although the techniques used by Raphael and Zadkiel were considered by some to be eccentric and pompous, their efforts kept astrology in the forefront of public attention. They did not shy away from controversy, and in fact at times seemed to seek it out (sometimes at great personal cost to themselves). Without their untiring focus on astrology during the nineteenth century, the art of judicial astrology may have died out altogether. Modern astrologers owe a debt of gratitude to these colorful characters for their persistence and dedication.

Endnotes

(1) Patrick Curry, A Confusion of Prophets: Victorian and Edwardian Astrology (London: Collins & Brown Limited, 1992), pp. 9-10.

(2) Ibid., p. 13.

(3) Ibid., p. 64.

(4) Kim Farnell, The Astral Tramp: A Biography of Sepharial (London: Ascella Publications, 1998), p. 86.

(5) Patrick Curry’s Prophecy and Power: Astrology in Early Modern England (Princeton University Press, 1989), p. 95.

(6) Jim Tester, A History of Western Astrology (Suffolk: The Boydell Press, 1987), p. 241 (quoting Herbert Leventhal’s In the Shadow of the Enlightenment. Occultism and Renaissance Science in Eighteenth-Century America (New York, 1976), p. 64).

(7) Curry, A Confusion of Prophets, pp. 47-48.

(8) Joscelyn Godwin, The Theosophical Enlightenment (New York: State University of New York Press, 1994), p. 143.

(9) Curry, A Confusion of Prophets, p. 50.

(10) Ibid., p. 46-47.

(11) Ibid., pp. 52-53.

(12) Ibid., p. 53.

(13) James Herschel Holden, A History of Horoscopic Astrology (American Federation of Astrologers, Inc., 1996), p. 192.

(14) Curry, A Confusion of Prophets, p. 55.

(15) Ibid., p. 47

(16) Ibid., pp. 61-62.

(17) Godwin, The Theosophical Enlightenment, p. 175.

(18) Holden, A History of Horoscopic Astrology, p. 193.

(19) Curry, A Confusion of Prophets, p. 62.

(20) Ibid., p. 71.

(21) Ibid., pp. 66-67.

(22) Ibid., pp. 76-77.

(23) Ibid., pp. 77-78.

(24) Ibid., pp. 81-82.

(25) Ibid., p. 94.

(26) Ibid., pp. 101-102.

(27) Holden, A History of Horoscopic Astrology, p. 193.

(28) Ibid., p. 108.

Selected Bibliography

Curry, Patrick. A Confusion of Prophets: Victorian and Edwardian Astrology. London: Collins & Brown Limited, 1992.

Curry, Patrick. Prophecy and Power: Astrology in Early Modern England. Princeton University Press, 1989.

Farnell, Kim. The Astral Tramp: A Biography of Sepharial. London: Ascella Publications, 1998.

Godwin, Joscelyn. The Theosophical Enlightenment. New York: State University of New York Press, 1994.

Holden, James Herschel. A History of Horoscopic Astrology. American Federation of Astrologers, Inc., 1996.

Tester, Jim. A History of Western Astrology. Suffolk: The Boydell Press, 1987.