I had stopped on the old bridge in the twilight to look upon the glories of a dreamy afterglow, and the gnarled tree forms that were etched against its symphony of color far away down the river. Just above the bands of purple and orange the evening star was coming out of a sea of turquoise, and its radiance was creeping into the waters below the trees. I heard a light foot fall behind me. “Excuse me, mister, have you got a match?”
I turned and saw an odd looking little man, of perhaps fifty, with a squirrel skin cap and ginger colored hair and beard, who laid down a burden contained in a gunny sack, and approached deferentially.
As I produced the match he brought forth a virulent looking pipe that seemed to consist mostly of solidified nicotine.
“I don’t seem to have no tobacco neither,” he continued ruefully, as he fumbled in his pockets.
I gave him a cigar, a portion of which he broke up and stuffed into his pipe. He carefully stowed the remainder in his vest pocket and began to smoke composedly.
246I asked him if he lived in the neighborhood.
“No, my place is about two miles from here. I’ve ben up the river after some snake root that’s wanted right away by the man I do business with. My name’s Erastus Wattles an’ I get all kinds of herbs around ’ere fer a man that sells ’em to the medicine makers somewheres down east.”
We sat on the bridge rail and talked for some time, and I became much interested in my new acquaintance. He spoke in a low voice, and his manner seemed rather furtive. He told me much of the herbs and rare plants that grew in the river country, and of his attempts to cultivate ginseng. “Certain influences” had repeatedly caused failures of his crop.
“That’s a fine scene out yonder,” he remarked, and the splendid glow of Jupiter in the western sky led to a subject that I found had enthralled his life, and his eyes quickened with a new light as he told me his story.
When he was a young man he had studied for the stage, but had made a failure of this, and had gone to work on an Ohio river steamboat as a clerk. A very old man, with long white whiskers and green spectacles came on board at Louisville late one night. He wanted to go to Cairo, but lacked a dollar of the amount necessary for his boat fare. He stated that he was a professor of astrology, and offered to cast the horoscope of anybody on the boat who would supply the deficiency. After an eloquent exposition of the wonders of astrology by the professor, 247Wattles furnished the dollar and the date and hour of his birth.
Amid the jibes of the other employees on the boat he received his horoscope just before the landing was made at Cairo. The aged seer departed down the gang plank and disappeared.
This was the turning point in the life of Erastus Wattles.
He sought a secluded place on the boat and studied the several closely written pages of foolscap, that were pinned together and numbered, and found that the old man had done a conscientious and thorough job.
Wattles extracted a large worn envelope from an inside pocket. It contained the document, which he said he always carried with him, and he asked me to read it.
On the first page was the circle of the horoscope, divided into its twelve “houses,” and above it was the “nativity” with the “sidereal variation” noted.
In the “delineation,” which occupied the remaining pages, were black clouds of misfortune. If Wattles had selected his hour of birth he could not have found one in the whole gamut of heavenly chords when his entrance into the world would have been more inopportune.
Mars was “on the ascendant in Taurus” and was his “significator” and “ruling planet.” Its position in relation to the other “malefics”—Saturn, Uranus and Neptune—all of which were above the horizon, was most disastrous. Two malefics were 248“poised upon the cusp of the House of Money,” indicating that Wattles “would go broke, and remain so during life.” The moon was also in a hostile square at the time.
The hoary headed astrologer had “dived into the Abyss of Futurity, and through a glass darkly” he had seen “a pale light.” It illumined a life of hopeless sorrow and futility. Ever and anon the blood red eye of Mars gleamed with a baleful glow upon the destiny under consideration. When Mars was off duty Saturn took up the malign rod, which was yielded to Uranus and Neptune when he passed temporarily into other fields of astral activity to indicate misfortunes of other people.
Periods of deep perplexities were apparent—when Wattles must not engage in new ventures, or talk with men over sixty, or with women under forty—when he must not deal with farmers, or have anything to do with people with red hair or bushy eyebrows. He was not to ask favors, travel, trade, write letters or marry, when the moon was in its first or last quarter, or have anything to do with surgeons or tradesmen when the moon was in conjunction with Saturn. Flying pains in limbs and joints, warts, boils, and accidents to the head were indicated at these periods. New enterprises might be undertaken when the sun was in Leo, but not if Neptune was stationary in Aries at that time, or if Venus was retrogressing in Cancer or Capricorn.
When Jupiter and Venus were together in Libra there would be particularly distressing periods for 249Wattles. When Jupiter passed into Sagittarius there might be temptation to make merry, but in the midst of mirth he must remember death, for almost fatal accidents, and possibly severe illness were indicated for these times, which were pregnant with calamity.
A certain retrogression of Uranus in Leo in the fifth year after the casting, with the sun hyleg, Mars in Aquarius, and the moon in Capricorn, indicated a liver complaint, with pains in the back and head, an almost fatal accident from an explosive compound, and interference in his affairs by a fat person—probably a female with a retreating chin, whose significator would be the malefic Neptune. A minor sub-related transit “might change this female to a dark haired woman with pointed features, who would spread strange reports with a bitter tongue, but in an unknown language.”
No illnesses, accidents or women materialized in that year, and Wattles thought they were all side tracked by a retrogression of Mercury in Virgo.
The influence of an evil minded woman, whose ruling planet was Saturn, was indicated during the eleventh year. Long arms, freckles and a high instep were suggested, as Antares would be in Gemini when she came into the sketch. Wattles had assumed that this peril had been fended off by an unsuspected transit. He had stayed in the woods as much as possible while Antares was in Gemini, and had spoken to no female during the eleventh year, but afterwards learned that the postmistress, who 250answered the description, had told an inquirer that no such man as Wattles lived in that part of the country. Somebody had tried to find him with a view of making a large herb contract, which had been thereby lost, so, after all, the indication was correct.
Under the heads of “Heredity,” “Mental Faculties,” “Moral Qualities,” and “Disposition,” it appeared that Wattles possessed most of the characteristics of a goat. The “cause” was “obscure” but assiduous effort might gradually overcome some of the tendencies.
In the twenty-second year, which was yet to come, the two malefics, Saturn and Neptune, would retrograde in Taurus. Mars and the Moon would be in Aquarius, and this would probably mean that Wattles would have an affliction of the stomach, and would lose one or both legs if he waded in unclear waters.
There were so many things to look out for that he was dazed with their complexity. He was horrified by the “variations” and “transits of evil omen” that were possible in unexpected quarters when the rest of the sky was apparently free. Temporizing signs and harmless transits were rare. Malign conjunctions and oppositions were leading features of every month in the calendar.
At one of the periods, when the moon and Ceres would be in opposition, and Venus “in trine” with Neptune, Wattles would die of an unindicated disorder.
251He had certainly got his dollar’s worth. With Mars careering continually through the Zodiac, and all the other malefics falling into conjunction and opposition at the most fateful times, he saw little prospect of escaping an astrological coil that reeked with woe. For him there was no balm in Gilead, or anywhere else in the universe. Like many others he let the blessings of existence take care of themselves, and was concerned solely with its ills. Apparently he was hopelessly enmeshed, but instinctively he struggled on.
The far seeing sage delineated a collateral variation indicating that the subject of the horoscope would, within a year after its casting, become a disciple, and possibly a practitioner, of a certain ancient science that had to do with the heavenly bodies, but the indication was not quite clear as to its name.
Impelled by this covert and ingeniously mystic suggestion, Wattles had procured all the literature he could find on the subject of astrology, and had studied it carefully. He hoped that he might find error in his horoscope, but the more he studied the more he believed. He had been touched with a hypnotic wand and had drifted into the toils of a remorseless power.
The opinion expressed by one of his friends on the steamboat that “the old party who cast the horoscope was probably drunk” had no weight with Wattles. There were too many confirmations of planet positions and significations in the astrological 252almanacs and related literature that he had succeeded in accumulating.
There was a postscript at the end of the delineation. Somewhere in the realms of infinite space the white bearded prophet felt the presence of a strange and malign star, that, for lack of data at hand, could not be named. Its unknown orbit dimly intersected the fate lines of Wattles. At some crisis in his affairs it would unexpectedly become manifest and would have a woeful significance.
Wattles pondered long upon the missing star in his horoscope, and had vainly sought it in his studies. There appeared to be nothing in his books that could lead to a solution, and the unknown malefic besieged his soul with a haunting fear.
“I got to keep track of all them heavenly bodies, and if that damn star ever shows up I must get a line on it,” he declared, as he folded up his horoscope. “I’ve got all the almanacs, and I know where ev’rything is all the time. I’ve studied astrology ’till I’ve ben black in the face, and I’m an expert caster. I’m goin’ to cast horoscopes right along now. There’s my significator comin’ up, an’ its in Aquarius now,” he remarked, and he pointed to Mars that had just scaled the tree tops in the east.
He offered, “for the small sum of fifty cents,” to sell me an unlabelled bottle of brown liquid, which he said was “an excellent tonic” that he made himself. He called it “Wahoo Bitters.” I made the purchase and placed the precious compound on the bridge rail.
253He took a small book from his pocket, which he consulted for a moment, and then invited me to visit him if I would come at a particular hour on Thursday of the following week. This I promised to do if possible. He told me how to find his house, gratefully accepted another cigar, and bade me good night. He then softly mingled with the shadows of the woods with his bag of roots. I pushed the Wahoo Bitters gently over into the river and continued my walk.
He was a strange and pathetic figure. Naturally superstitious, he had become imbued with illusions, that for ages have lured the imaginations of those who have reached blindly into the unknowable and found only the Ego—the “ruling star” in all horoscopes. Verily, to man, the luminary of the greatest magnitude in the universe is himself. Not content to be silly over little things, he must needs prowl among the constellations and there spin the web of his puny personal affairs, as in theology he assumes the particular concern of the Almighty with his daily doings.
Ancient as astrology is, it is not as old as conceit.
I was curious to know more of Wattles. At heart I scoffed, but concluded to keep my engagement and ask him to cast my horoscope. On the appointed day I made the little journey. The road led through the woods for a mile or so to a big oak tree that Wattles had described. Here a narrow path left it and followed the course of the river to 254a long bayou. Beyond the end of the bayou I found some high ground on which perhaps an acre had been cleared. Near the farther edge of the clearing was an unpainted single story house with low eaves. There was some queer looking frame work, and a small platform on the roof.
As I approached the door I was confronted with cabalistic characters—painted in black on the wood work. The signs of the Zodiac appeared around the rim of a roughly drawn circle. On a blue background at the top of the door were four stars and a crescent moon in yellow. I assumed that the stars represented the malefics in Wattles’ horoscope.
In response to my knock, he opened the door.
“Well, I’m glad to see you!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t think you’d come. I thought mebbe you might size me up for a queer bird after all that talk we had on the bridge. Set down an’ make yourself comfortable.”
He flung a villainous looking maltese tom cat, that he addressed as “Scorpio,” out of a crippled rocking chair, and I occupied the vacated space.
As Scorpio fled through a hole in the bottom of the door, that apparently had been cut for his benefit, I noticed that he was much scarred. One ear was gone, his left eyelid was missing, there were bare places on him where the fur had been removed, evidently with violence, and his tail was not complete. These things imparted a sinister aspect, and I did not like him. He looked like a thoroughly bad cat, and was probably a malefic.
255It would seem fit that a cat found amid such uncanny surroundings should be black instead of maltese, but as this is a veracious chronicle it is necessary to adhere to facts.
We spent some time in desultory conversation before I mentioned the ostensible object of my visit.
“Now,” said Wattles, “before I do anything about your horoscope, I want to show some I’ve ben casting,” and he began pulling over some papers on his shelves.
While he was doing this I looked around the strange room.
A row of bottles on one of the shelves contained various small reptiles with filmy orbs that peered out through alcohol. From the end of the shelf a stuffed badger stared fixedly and disdainfully, with dull glass eyes, at a moth eaten coon that returned the gaze from a pedestal in a darkened corner. A dismal and tattered owl occupied a perch above the coon. One of his glass eyes had dropped out, but with the other he regarded the offending badger sadly.
A dried snake skin, with several dangling rattles, was tacked on the wall back of the stove, with a few Indian relics—bows, arrows, and a spear head—that were arranged on each side of it. Some butterflies with broken wings, and beetles, impaled on pins, were scattered through the spaces around the relics. A number of colored botanical prints and astronomical charts were pinned on the walls, and there were 256cobwebs in the upper corners that appeared to be inhabited.
Some bunches of withered herbs and a broken violin hung above the window. On a table near it was a vi............