What Is the Lenormand?
Mademoiselle Marie-Anne Lenormand was a French fortune-teller who lived during the reign of Napoleon. With her card readings—and a wide range of other divinatory arts—she worked her way into the parties and gatherings of high society, and eventually into their money as well. She came to be known as the “Sibyl of the Salons,” because she was a prophet like the ancient Roman sibyls who compiled their prophesies into the sibylline books. She died wealthy, despite her humble beginnings, but not before being imprisoned several times, either on charges of fortune-telling or, as she claims, because of the startling accuracy of her prediction of Napoleon’s divorce.
She read her apparently dangerously accurate fortunes with various decks, mostly—it appears—playing cards, although on some of them she had drawn images and keywords. What we know of those images and keywords is limited to a sketchy eyewitness account. But when she died, several people came forward as her former apprentices, despite her insisting while she was alive that she never had taken a pupil.
The claim of being Mlle. Lenormand’s apprentice no doubt gained a handful of card shufflers a free reputation, but we have to regard these claims with doubt. What we don’t need to doubt is that Mlle. Lenormand cast a life-giving ray of light on the field of European cartomancy. Soon, many competing schools sprang up and spread from France to the rest of Europe, and beyond. Mlle. Lenormand gave birth to a new archetype.
Previously, the card reader was a shady character, often ethnically (and with a large dollop of racism) associated with the Gypsy or Roma people. In the nineteenth century, Charlotte Brontë describes such a traveling psychic, whom she even calls a sibyl, in Jane Eyre (although it turns out to be Mr. Rochester in disguise):
The library looked tranquil enough as I entered it, and the Sibyl—if Sibyl she were—was seated snugly enough in an easy-chair at the chimney-corner. She had on a red cloak and a black bonnet: or rather, a broad- brimmed gipsy hat, tied down with a striped handkerchief under her chin. An extinguished candle stood on the table; she was bending over the fire, and seemed reading in a little black book, like a prayer-book, by the light of the blaze: she muttered the words to herself, as most old women do, while she read; she did not desist immediately on my entrance: it appeared she wished to finish a paragraph.
I stood on the rug and warmed my hands, which were rather cold with sitting at a distance from the drawing-room fire. I felt now as composed as ever I did in my life: there was nothing indeed in the gipsy’s appearance to trouble one’s calm. She shut her book and slowly looked up; her hat-brim partially shaded her face, yet I could see, as she raised it, that it was a strange one. It looked all brown and black: elf-locks bristled out from beneath a white band which passed under her chin, and came half over her cheeks, or rather jaws: her eye confronted me at once, with a bold and direct gaze.2
This passage describes a person of doubtful character and is meant to imply ethnic origins. It’s actually a man in disguise, but Jane does not know this at this point. The other women at the party find themselves disturbed and excited by the “gipsy,” but Jane, being a practical nineteenth-century woman, faces the stranger with equanimity born of a modern skepticism (although later, when the “gipsy” offers to read her head bumps, Jane regards this as a scientific method of fortune-telling).
Unlike this kind of traveling fortune-teller, who often as not found herself tossed out of the house from worries of theft and fraud, Mlle. Lenormand was a commanding yet thoroughly genteel presence. Captain R. H. Gronow describes her salon as being rather ordinary:
I was first admitted into a good-sized drawing-room, plainly but comfortably furnished, with books and newspapers about, as one sees them at a dentist’s. Two or three ladies were already there, who, from their quiet dress and the haste with which they drew down their veils, or got up and looked out of the window, evidently belonged to the upper ten thousand.3
Later, however, Gronow describes her reading chamber as “covered with huge bats, nailed by their wings to the ceiling, stuffed owls, cabalistic signs, skeletons—in short, everything that was likely to impress a weak or superstitious mind.”4
Gronow also makes an effort to describe the cards themselves, but all he can say is that they are covered “with all kinds of strange figures and ciphers depicted on them.” 5 We also discover that she used two decks: the grand and the petit jeu. This, at least, is not much of a mystery: we know that cartomancers in the eighteenth century mostly used abbreviated decks. Rarely did they use a full deck of fifty-two cards. Other accounts describe her mixing cards from various kinds of decks, adding tarot cards to decks of what we would regard as playing cards, and so on.6
The meanings she gave each of the cards are lost; in her own writings, she rarely gives specific insight into how she reads the cards. A deck of thirty-six cards was published in 1845, after her death, each with an image supposedly attributed to a playing card by Mlle. Lenormand. This deck derived from a game, much as the tarot did. The original game—Das Spiel der Hofnung [sic]—also contained instructions for how to use the deck to tell fortunes. The images were only later repurposed solely to divination, and Mlle. Lenormand’s name was affixed as a marketing strategy. This deck of thirty-six cards, now called the Petit Lenormand, quickly became popular due to its evocative yet everyday images.7
This deck became one of the most popular divination decks in Europe. I am told that even today, the Petit Lenormand is more commonly used for divination than the tarot in some places in Germany. While the tarot is the most popular divination deck in America, the Petit Lenormand is not completely unknown here. Yet resources on the Lenormand in the United States are few and far between, and vary in quality. We know, though, that this was not the deck that Mlle. Lenormand herself used, which does not erode its efficacy or its value.
Each region has its own method of reading the cards, so that one might speak of a French method, a German method, a South American method, and so on. An American method has yet to arise, however, although there are hints of a developing system, outlined in publications like Sylvie Steinbach’s The Secrets of the Lenormand Oracle. Ms. Steinbach, a French immigrant who now makes her home in Los Angeles and her living by reading cards for the wealthy of the West Coast, describes a system she herself invented for the cards after years of reading. As one of the few books on the Lenormand in English, this text has had a large influence on the small community of American Lenormand readers.
This lack of resources is, in some ways, good news. After all, if one wishes to learn the tarot, one can plunge into infinite complexity immediately. Just earlier today, I browsed the tarot section at an occult bookstore. I could have filled my arms with books I had not read … although it would have emptied my pockets. But if I wish to dip my toe into the Lenormand, I must begin with the cards themselves.
And that’s as it should be. The Lenormand speaks in plain language, and its symbols are the everyday archetypes of our lives. The two systems of symbols can be extremely productive together, not just for fortune-telling, but for divination, contemplation, creativity, and magic.
Fortunately, Lenormand decks are inexpensive. One can get several decks of Petit Lenormand for the price of a single tarot deck. And the images on the Lenormand are so simple that one can make an attractive deck oneself even with limited artistic talent. In a pinch, you can even make your own Lenormand out of a deck of playing cards. I will describe such a method in the next chapter so that you can begin to explore the Lenormand yourself.
I also assume that you have some knowledge of the tarot. In case you don’t, I will include a basic description and meaning of the twenty-two major arcana cards. As I said, the tarot’s depth is limitless. So if you wish to go more in-depth, I’d recommend picking up Rachel Pollack’s Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom, a classic text on the tarot. If you’re already familiar with the tarot, it may be helpful to look over my description of the twenty-two major arcana, simply to see where I’m coming from.
To get the most out of this book, you’ll need a deck of tarot cards and a deck of the Petit Jeu of Lenormand. For beginners, I recommend a tarot deck using the Rider-Waite imagery, such as the Lo Scarabeo Universal Tarot, used in this book. That covers a large number of decks indeed, so I’d suggest finding one that seems to appeal to you. However, extremely innovative decks (as if the Rider-Waite wasn’t itself innovative!) might not work as well in terms of the symbolic synergy I’ll discuss later. As for Lenormand decks, any of the thirty-six-card Petit Jeu will do. Selecting a deck is a matter of taste. The only warning I can offer in selecting a Lenormand deck is to avoid Gypsy Witch-style decks, which are related but not the subject of this book. Also avoid the Grand Jeu—a fifty-four-card fortune-telling deck. It’s fine in its own regard as a divination deck, and is interesting itself, but not the subject of this book. If there are more or fewer than thirty-six cards, and the first card does not depict a man on horseback, you probably do not have the right kind of Lenormand deck for this book.
The Lo Scarabeo Petit Lenormand is attractive and popular, but unfortunately currently out of print. Do not mistake it for the Lo Scarabeo Lenormand Tarot, which is interesting but not a Petit Jeu. You can also find a deck like the Mystical Lenormand, painted by Urban Trösch, which has evocative and interesting images. Many people like the Piatnik deck with its soft images and playing card insets. The Lo Scarabeo French Cartomancy deck is also a suitable deck for beginners, and is the deck used in the illustrations in this book.
In general, Petit Lenormand decks come in three flavors. The first and simplest are simply images and, often, numbers. So the first card, the Rider, is just the number 1 and a picture of a man on a horse. The second, Clover, is a picture of a clover and the number 2, and so on. Some decks, like the Mystical Lenormand might include other symbols and images. The second kind of deck is the inset deck, which contains an inset or “medallion” of a playing card. The very popular Piatnik deck is one of these, as is the French Cartomancy deck. These are often good decks for beginners because court cards are sometimes regarded as representative not only of ideas but of people. So one might look at 4–House and notice that it has the King of Hearts. It might represent your house, then, but also your landlord, a person connected with houses. The third type of Lenormand contains an interpretive poem instead of a playing card inset. These can be found in English, but are particularly common in German. Such poems might help you remember meanings, but you’ll find that the memory load with the Lenormand is much less than that required to read tarot effectively. I personally find such poems distracting, not to mention aesthetically unpleasant (at least, the ones in English tend not to be high literature). I usually use two decks, the Mystical for reading for others, and the Piatnik for reading for myself. The Mystical, for reasons having to do more with the sturdiness of the box than anything else, is also my traveling deck. Lenormand decks are inexpensive. Snap up what you can while you can; they go in and out of print unpredictably.
Another option is to make your own Lenormand out of playing cards. This is actually how I began with the Lenormand. If you have artistic skill, you can get blank cards and sketch your own cards. You can also use a regular deck of playing cards and write the titles on each card. You may also wish to create a small, simple drawing of the card’s image. If you go this route, I find a Sharpie to work well on marking most cards. This option is economical if you are unsure you’ll want to incorporate the Lenormand into your regular divination and contemplative practice and just want to try it out.
But after reading this book, and more importantly, after playing with the Petit Jeu, I know that you will find it as evocative as I have.
2. Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre (New York: Random House, 2000), 291.
3. R. H. Gronow, Celebrities of London and Paris (London: Smith, Elder & Co., 1865), 66.
4. Ibid., 67.
5. Ibid., 67
6. Ronald Decker, Thierry Depaulis, and Michael Dummett, A Wicked Pack of Cards: The Origins of the Occult Tarot (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996), 138.
7. Ibid., 141.