Wherein
the month, and day of the month are set down, the persons named, and
the great
actions and events of next year particularly related, as will come to
pass.
being
an account of the death of Mr Partridge, the almanack–maker, upon the
29th
instant, in a letter to a person of honour.
By
John Partridge
Written
above a thousand years ago, and relating to the year 1709, with
explanatory
notes, by T. N. Philomath
I
have long considered the gross abuse of astrology in this kingdom, and
upon
debating the matter with myself, I could not possibly lay the fault
upon the
art, but upon those gross impostors, who set up to be the artists. I
know
several learned men have contended that the whole is a cheat; that it
is absurd
and ridiculous to imagine, the stars can have any influence at all upon
human
actions, thoughts, or inclinations: And whoever has not bent his
studies that
way, may be excused for thinking so, when he sees in how wretched a
manner that
noble art is treated by a few mean illiterate traders between us and
the stars;
who import a yearly stock of nonsense, lyes, folly, and impertinence,
which they
offer to the world as genuine from the planets, tho’ they descend from
no
greater a height than their own brains.
I
intend in a short time to publish a large and rational defence of this
art, and
therefore shall say no more in its justification at present, than that
it hath
been in all ages defended by many learned men, and among the rest by
Socrates
himself, whom I look upon as undoubtedly the wisest of uninspir’d
mortals: To
which if we add, that those who have condemned this art, though
otherwise
learned, having been such as either did not apply their studies this
way, or at
least did not succeed in their applications; their testimony will not
be of much
weight to its disadvantage, since they are liable to the common
objection of
condemning what they did not understand.
Nor
am I at all offended, or think it an injury to the art, when I see the
common
dealers in it, the students in astrology, the philomaths, and the rest
of that
tribe, treated by wise men with the utmost scorn and contempt; but
rather
wonder, when I observe gentlemen in the country, rich enough to serve
the nation
in parliament, poring in Partridge’s almanack, to find out the events
of the
year at home and abroad; not daring to propose a hunting–match, till
Gadbury
or he have fixed the weather.
I
will allow either of the two I have mentioned, or any other of the
fraternity,
to be not only astrologers, but conjurers too, if I do not produce a
hundred
instances in all their almanacks, to convince any reasonable man, that
they do
not so much as understand common grammar and syntax; that they are not
able to
spell any word out of the usual road, nor even in their prefaces write
common
sense or intelligible English. Then for their observations and
predictions, they
are such as will equally suit any age or country in the world. “This
month a
certain great person will be threatened with death or sickness.” This
the
news–papers will tell them; for there we find at the end of the year,
that no
month passes without the death of some person of note; and it would be
hard if
it should be otherwise, when there are at least two thousand persons of
not in
this kingdom, many of them old, and the almanack–maker has the liberty
of
chusing the sickliest season of the year where he may fix his
prediction. Again,
“This month an eminent clergyman will be preferr’d;” of which there may
be
some hundreds half of them with one foot in the grave. Then “such a
planet in
such a house shews great machinations, plots and conspiracies, that may
in time
be brought to light:” After which, if we hear of any discovery, the
astrologer
gets the honour; if not, his prediction still stands good. And at
last, “God
preserve King William from all his open and secret enemies, Amen.” When
if the
King should happen to have died, the astrologer plainly foretold it;
otherwise
it passes but for the pious ejaculation of a loyal subject: Though it
unluckily
happen’d in some of their almanacks, that poor King William was pray’d
for
many months after he was dead, because it fell out that he died about
the
beginning of the year.
To
mention no more of their impertinent predictions: What have we to do
with their
advertisements about pills and drink for the venereal disease? Or their
mutual
quarrels in verse and prose of Whig and Tory, wherewith the stars have
little to
do?
Having
long observed and lamented these, and a hundred other abuses of this
art, too
tedious to repeat, I resolved to proceed in a new way, which I doubt
not will be
to the general satisfaction of the kingdom: I can this year produce but
a
specimen of what I design for the future; having employ’d most part of
my time
in adjusting and correcting the calculations I made some years past,
because I
would offer nothing to the world of which I am not as fully satisfied,
as that I
am now alive. For these two last years I have not failed in above one
or two
particulars, and those of no very great moment. I exactly foretold the
miscarriage at Toulon, with all its particulars; and the loss of
Admiral Shovel,
tho’ I was mistaken as to the day, placing that accident about thirty–
six
hours sooner than it happen’d; but upon reviewing my schemes, I quickly
found
the cause of that error. I likewise foretold the Battle of Almanza to
the very
day and hour, with the loss on both sides, and the consequences
thereof. All
which I shewed to some friends many months before they happened, that
is, I gave
them papers sealed up, to open at such a time, after which they were at
liberty
to read them; and there they found my predictions true in every
article, except
one or two, very minute.
As
for the few following predictions I now offer the world, I forbore to
publish
them till I had perused the several almanacks for the year we are now
enter’d
on. I find them in all the usual strain, and I beg the reader will
compare their
manner with mine: And here I make bold to tell the world, that I lay
the whole
credit of my art upon the truth of these predictions; and I will be
content,
that Partridge, and the rest of his clan, may hoot me for a cheat and
impostor,
if I fail in any singular particular of moment. I believe, any man who
reads
this paper, will look upon me to be at least a person of as much
honesty and
understanding, as a common maker of almanacks. I do not lurk in the
dark; I am
not wholly unknown in the world; I have set my name at length, to be a
mark of
infamy to mankind, if they shall find I deceive them.
In
one thing I must desire to be forgiven, that I talk more sparingly of
home–affairs: As it will be imprudence to discover secrets of state, so
it
would be dangerous to my person; but in smaller matters, and that are
not of
publick consequence, I shall be very free; and the truth of my
conjectures will
as much appear from those as the other. As for the most signal events
abroad in
France, Flanders, Italy and Spain, I shall make no scruple to predict
them in
plain terms: Some of them are of importance, and I hope I shall seldom
mistake
the day they will happen; therefore, I think good to inform the reader,
that I
all along make use of the Old Style observed in England, which I desire
he will
compare with that of the news–papers, at the time they relate the
actions I
mention.
I
must add one word more: I know it hath been the opinion of several of
the
learned, who think well enough of the true art of astrology, That the
stars do
only incline, and not force the actions or wills of men: And therefore,
however
I may proceed by right rules, yet I cannot in prudence so confidently
assure the
events will follow exactly as I predict them.
I
hope I have maturely considered this objection, which in some cases is
of no
little weight. For example: A man may, by the influence of an over–
ruling
planet, be disposed or inclined to lust, rage, or avarice, and yet by
the force
of reason overcome that bad influence; and this was the case of
Socrates: But as
the great events of the world usually depend upon numbers of men, it
cannot be
expected they should all unite to cross their inclinations, from
pursuing a
general design, wherein they unanimously agree. Besides the influence
of the
stars reaches to many actions and events which are not any way in the
power of
reason; as sickness, death, and what we commonly call accidents, with
many more,
needless to repeat.
But
now it is time to proceed to my predictions, which I have begun to
calculate
from the time that the Sun enters into Aries. And this I take to be
properly the
beginning of the natural year. I pursue them to the time that he enters
Libra,
or somewhat more, which is the busy period of the year. The remainder I
have not
yet adjusted, upon account of several impediments needless here to
mention:
Besides, I must remind the reader again, that this is but a specimen of
what I
design in succeeding years to treat more at large, if I may have
liberty and
encouragement.
My
first prediction is but a trifle, yet I will mention it, to show how
ignorant
those sottish pretenders to astrology are in their own concerns: It
relates to
Partridge the almanack–maker; I have consulted the stars of his
nativity by my
own rules, and find he will infallibly die upon the 29th of March next,
about
eleven at night, of a raging fever; therefore I advise him to consider
of it,
and settle his affairs in time.
The
month of April will be observable for the death of many great persons.
On the
4th will die the Cardinal de Noailles, Archbishop of Paris: On the 11th
the
young Prince of Asturias, son to the Duke of Anjou: On the 14th a great
peer of
this realm will die at his country–house: On the 19th an old layman of
great
fame for learning: and on the 23rd an eminent goldsmith in Lombard–
Street. I
could mention others, both at home and abroad, if I did not consider it
is of
very little use or instruction to the reader, or to the world.
As
to publick affairs: On the 7th of this month there will be an
insurrection in
Dauphine, occasion’d by the oppressions of the people, which will not be
quieted in some months.
On
the 15th will be a violent storm on the south–east coast of France,
which will
destroy many of their ships, and some in the very harbour.
The
19th will be famous for the revolt of a whole province or kingdom,
excepting one
city, by which the affairs of a certain prince in the alliance will
take a
better face.
May,
against common conjectures, will be no very busy month in Europe, but
very
signal for the death of the Dauphin, which will happen on the 7th,
after a short
fit of sickness, and grievous torments with the strangury. He dies less
lamented
by the court than the kingdom.
On
the 9th a Mareschal of France will break his leg by a fall from his
horse. I
have not been able to discover whether he will then die or not.
On
the 11th will begin a most important siege, which the eyes of all
Europe will be
upon: I cannot be more particular: for in relating affairs that so
nearly
concern the Confederates, and consequently this Kingdom, I am forced to
confine
myself, for several reasons very obvious to the reader.
On
the 15th news will arrive of a very surprizing event, than which
nothing could
be more unexpected.
On
the 19th three noble ladies of this Kingdom will, against all
expectation, prove
with child, to the great joy of their husbands.
On
the 23rd a famous buffoon of the play–house will die a ridiculous death,
suitable to his vocation.
June.
This month will be distinguish’d at home, by the utter dispersing of
those
ridiculous deluded enthusiasts, commonly call’d the Prophets; occasion’d
chiefly by seeing the time come that many of their prophecies should be
fulfill’d, and then finding themselves deceiv’d by contrary events. It
is
indeed to be admir’d how any deceiver can be so weak, to foretel things
near
at hand, when a very few months must of necessity discover the impostor
to all
the world; in this point less prudent than common almanack–makers, who
are so
wise to wonder in generals, and talk dubiously, and leave to the reader
the
business of interpreting.
On
the 1st of this month a French general will be killed by a random shot
of a
cannon–ball.
On
the 6th a fire will break out in the suburbs of Paris, which will
destroy above
a thousand houses; and seems to be the foreboding of what will happen,
to the
surprize of all Europe, about the end of the following month.
On
the 10th a great battle will be fought, which will begin at four of the
clock in
the afternoon; and last till nine at night with great obstinacy, but no
very
decisive event. I shall not name the place, for the reasons aforesaid;
but the
commanders on each left wing will be killed. — I see bonfires, and hear
the
noise of guns for a victory.
On
the 14th there will be a false report of the French king’s death.
On
the 20th Cardinal Portocarero will die of a dysentery, with great
suspicion of
poison; but the report of his intention to revolt to King Charles, will
prove
false.
July.
The 6th of this month a certain general will, by a glorious action,
recover the
reputation he lost by former misfortunes.
On
the 12th a great commander will die a prisoner in the hands of his
enemies.
On
the 14th a shameful discovery will be made of a French Jesuit, giving
poison to
a great foreign general; and when he is put to the torture, will make
wonderful
discoveries.
In
short this will prove a month of great action, if I might have liberty
to relate
the particulars.
At
home, the death of an old famous senator will happen on the 15th at his
country–house, worn with age and diseases.
But
that which will make this month memorable to all posterity, is the
death of the
French King, Lewis the fourteenth, after a week’s sickness at Marli,
which
will happen on the 29th, about six o’clock in the evening. It seems to
be an
effect of the gout in his stomach, followed by a flux. And in three
days after
Monsieur Chamillard will follow his master, dying suddenly of an
appoplexy.
In
this month likewise an ambassador will die in London; but I cannot
assign the
day.
August.
The affairs of France will seem to suffer no change for a while under
the Duke
of Burgundy’s administration; but the genius that animated the whole
machine
being gone, will be the cause of mighty turns and revolutions in the
following
year. The new King makes yet little change either in the army or the
ministry;
but the libels against his grandfather, that fly about his very court,
give him
uneasiness.
I
see an express in mighty haste, with joy and wonder in his looks,
arriving by
break of day on the 26th of this month, having travell’d in three days a
prodigious journey by land and sea. In the evening I hear bells and
guns, and
see the blazing of a thousand bonfires.
A
young admiral of noble birth, does likewise this month gain immortal
honour by a
great achievement.
The
affairs of Poland are this month entirely settled: Augustus resigns his
pretensions which he had again taken up for some time: Stanislaus is
peaceably
possess’d of the throne; and the King of Sweden declares for the
Emperor.
I
cannot omit one particular accident here at home; that near the end of
this
month much mischief will be done at Bartholomew Fair, by the fall of a
booth.
September.
This month begins with a very surprizing fit of frosty weather, which
will last
near twelve days.
The
Pope having long languish’d last month, the swellings in his legs
breaking,
and the flesh mortifying, will die on the 11th instant; and in three
weeks time,
after a mighty contest, be succeeded by a cardinal of the imperial
faction, but
native of Tuscany, who is now about sixty–one years old.
The
French army acts now wholly on the defensive, strongly fortify’d in
their
trenches; and the young French King sends overtures for a treaty of
peace by the
Duke of Mantua; which, because it is a matter of state that concerns us
here at
home, I shall speak no farther of it.
I
shall add but one prediction more, and that in mystical terms, which
shall be
included in a verse out of Virgil,
Alter
erit jam Tethys, & altera quae vehat Argo.
Delectos
heroas.
Upon
the 25th day of this month, the fulfilling of this prediction will be
manifest
to every body.
This
is the farthest I have proceeded in my calculations for the present
year. I do
not pretend, that these are all the great events which will happen in
this
period, but that those I have set down will infallibly come to pass. It
will
perhaps still be objected, why I have not spoke more particularly of
affairs at
home, or of the success of our armies abroad, which I might, and could
very
largely have done; but those in power have wisely discouraged men from
meddling
in publick concerns, and I was resolv’d by no means to give the least
offence.
This I will venture to say, That it will be a glorious campaign for the
allies,
wherein the English forces, both by sea and land, will have their full
share of
honour: That her Majesty Queen Anne will continue in health and
prosperity: And
that no ill accident will arrive to any of the chief ministry.
As
to the particular events I have mention’d, the readers may judge by the
fulfilling of ’em, whether I am on the level with common astrologers;
who,
with an old paultry cant, and a few pothook for planets, to amuse the
vulgar,
have, in my opinion, too long been suffer’d to abuse the world: But an
honest
physician ought not to be despis’d, because there are such things as
mountebanks. I hope I have some share of reputation, which I would not
willingly
forfeit for a frolick or humour: And I believe no gentleman, who reads
this
paper, will look upon it to be of the same cast or mould with the common
scribblers that are every day hawk’d about. My fortune has placed me
above the
little regard of scribbling for a few pence, which I neither value or
want:
Therefore let no wise men too hastily condemn this essay, intended for
a good
design, to cultivate and improve an ancient art, long in disgrace, by
having
fallen into mean and unskilful hands. A little time will determine
whether I
have deceived others or myself: and I think it is no very unreasonable
request,
that men would please to suspend their judgments till then. I was once
of the
opinion with those who despise all predictions from the stars, till the
year
1686, a man of quality she’d me, written in his album, That the most
learned
astronomer, Captain H. assured him, he would never believe any thing of
the
stars’ influence, if there were not a great revolution in England in
the year
1688. Since that time I began to have other thoughts, and after
eighteen years
diligent study and application, I think I have no reason to repent of
my pains.
I shall detain the reader no longer, than to let him know, that the
account I
design to give of next year’s events, shall take in the principal
affairs that
happen in Europe; and if I be denied the liberty of offering it to my
own
country, I shall appeal to the learned world, by publishing it in
Latin, and
giving order to have it printed in Holland.
My
Lord,
In
obedience to your Lordship’s commands, as well as to satisfy my own
curiosity,
I have for some days past enquired constantly after Partridge the
almanack–maker, of whom it was foretold in Mr. Bickerstaff’s
predictions,
publish’d about a month ago, that he should die on the 29th instant
about
eleven at night of a raging fever. I had some sort of knowledge of him
when I
was employ’d in the Revenue, because he used every year to present me
with his
almanack, as he did other gentlemen, upon the score of some little
gratuity we
gave him. I saw him accidentally once or twice about ten days before he
died,
and observed he began very much to droop and languish, tho’ I hear his
friends
did not seem to apprehend him in any danger. About two or three days
ago he grew
ill, and was confin’d first to his chamber, and in a few hours after to
his
bed, where Dr. Case and Mrs. Kirleus were sent for to visit, and to
prescribe to
him. Upon this intelligence I sent thrice every day one servant or
other to
enquire after his health; and yesterday, about four in the afternoon,
word was
brought me that he was past hopes: Upon which, I prevailed with myself
to go and
see him, partly out of commiseration, and I confess, partly out of
curiosity. He
knew me very well, seem’d surpriz’d at my condescension, and made me
compliments upon it as well as he could, in the condition he was. The
people
about him said, he had been for some time delirious; but when I saw
him, he had
his understanding as well as ever I knew, and spake strong and hearty,
without
any seeming uneasiness or constraint. After I told him how sorry I was
to see
him in those melancholy circumstances, and said some other civilities,
suitable
to the occasion, I desired him to tell me freely and ingeniously,
whether the
predictions Mr. Bickerstaff had publish’d relating to his death, had
not too
much affected and worked on his imagination. He confess’d he had often
had it
in his head, but never with much apprehension, till about a fortnight
before;
since which time it had the perpetual possession of his mind and
thoughts, and
he did verily believe was the true natural cause of his present
distemper: For,
said he, I am thoroughly persuaded, and I think I have very good
reasons, that
Mr. Bickerstaff spoke altogether by guess, and knew no more what will
happen
this year than I did myself. I told him his discourse surprized me; and
I would
be glad he were in a state of health to be able to tell me what reason
he had to
be convinc’d of Mr. Bickerstaff’s ignorance. He reply’d, I am a poor
ignorant fellow, bred to a mean trade, yet I have sense enough to know
that all
pretences of foretelling by astrology are deceits, for this manifest
reason,
because the wise and the learned, who can only know whether there be
any truth
in this science, do all unanimously agree to laugh at and despise it;
and none
but the poor ignorant vulgar give it any credit, and that only upon the
word of
such silly wretches as I and my fellows, who can hardly write or read.
I then
asked him why he had not calculated his own nativity, to see whether it
agreed
with Bickerstaff’s prediction? at which he shook his head, and said,
Oh! sir,
this is no time for jesting, but for repenting those fooleries, as I do
now from
the very bottom of my heart. By what I can gather from you, said I, the
observations and predictions you printed, with your almanacks, were mere
impositions on the people. He reply’d, if it were otherwise I should
have the
less to answer for. We have a common form for all those things, as to
foretelling the weather, we never meddle with that, but leave it to the
printer,
who takes it out of any old almanack, as he thinks fit; the rest was my
own
invention, to make my almanack sell, having a wife to maintain, and no
other way
to get my bread; for mending old shoes is a poor livelihood; and,
(added he,
sighing) I wish I may not have done more mischief by my physick than my
astrology; tho’ I had some good receipts from my grandmother, and my own
compositions were such as I thought could at least do no hurt.
I
had some other discourse with him, which now I cannot call to mind; and
I fear I
have already tired your Lordship. I shall only add one circumstance,
That on his
death–bed he declared himself a Nonconformist, and had a fanatick
preacher to
be his spiritual guide. After half an hour’s conversation I took my
leave,
being half stifled by the closeness of the room. I imagine he could not
hold out
long, and therefore withdrew to a little coffee–house hard by, leaving a
servant at the house with orders to come immediately, and tell me, as
near as he
could, the minute when Partridge should expire, which was not above two
hours
after; when, looking upon my watch, I found it to be above five minutes
after
seven; by which it is clear that Mr. Bickerstaff was mistaken almost
four hours
in his calculation. In the other circumstances he was exact enough. But
whether
he has not been the cause of this poor man’s death, as well as the
predictor,
may be very reasonably disputed. However, it must be confess’d the
matter is
odd enough, whether we should endeavour to account for it by chance, or
the
effect of imagination: For my own part, tho’ I believe no man has less
faith
in these matters, yet I shall wait with some impatience, and not
without some
expectation, the fulfilling of Mr. Bickerstaff’s second prediction,
that the
Cardinal de Noailles is to die upon the fourth of April, and if that
should be
verified as exactly as this of poor Partridge, I must own I should be
wholly
surprized, and at a loss, and should infallibly expect the
accomplishment of all
the rest.
An Elegy on the supposed Death of Partridge, the Almanack–Maker.
Well, ’tis as Bickerstaff has guess’d,
Tho’ we all took it for a jest;
Partridge is dead, nay more, he dy’d
E’re he could prove the good ’Squire ly’d.
Strange, an Astrologer shou’d die,
Without one Wonder in the Sky!
Not one of all his Crony Stars
To pay their Duty at his Herse?
No Meteor, no Eclipse appear’d?
No Comet with a flaming Beard?
The Sun has rose, and gone to Bed,
Just as if partridge were not dead:
Nor hid himself behind the Moon,
To make a dreadful Night at Noon.
He at fit Periods walks through Aries,
Howe’er our earthly Motion varies;
And twice a Year he’ll cut th’ Equator,
As if there had been no such Matter.
Some Wits have wonder’d what Analogy
There is ’twixt Cobbling and Astrology:
How Partridge made his Optics rise,
From a Shoe–Sole, to reach the Skies.
A List of Coblers Temples Ties,
To keep the Hair out of their Eyes;
From whence ’tis plain the Diadem
That Princes wear, derives from them.
And therefore Crowns are now–a–days
Adorn’d with Golden Stars and Rays,
Which plainly shews the near Alliance
’Twixt cobling and the Planets Science.
Besides, that slow–pac’d Sign Bootes,
As ’tis miscall’d, we know not who ’tis?
But Partridge ended all Disputes,
He knew his Trade, and call’d it Boots.
The Horned Moon, which heretofore
Upon their Shoes the Romans wore,
Whose Wideness kept their Toes from Corns,
And whence we claim our Shooing–Horns;
Shows how the Art of Cobling bears
A near Resemblance to the Spheres.
A Scrap of Parchment hung by Geometry
(A great Refinement in Barometry)
Can, like the Stars, foretel the Weather;
And what is Parchment else but Leather?
Which an Astrologer might use,
Either for Almanacks or Shoes.
Thus Partridge, by his Wit and Parts,
At once did practise both these Arts;
And as the boading Owl (or rather
The Bat, because her Wings are Leather)
Steals from her private Cell by Night,
And flies about the Candle–Light;
So learned Partridge could as well
Creep in the Dark from Leathern Cell,
And, in his Fancy, fly as fair,
To peep upon a twinkling Star.
Besides, he could confound the Spheres,
And set the Planets by the Ears;
To shew his Skill, he Mars could join
To Venus in Aspect Mali’n;
Then call in Mercury for Aid,
And cure the Wounds that Venus made.
Great Scholars have in Lucian read,
When Philip, King of Greece was dead,
His Soul and Spirit did divide,
And each Part took a diff’rent Side;
One rose a Star, the other fell
Beneath, and mended Shoes in Hell.
Thus Partridge still shines in each Art,
The Cobling and Star–gazing Part,
And is install’d as good a Star
As any of the Caesars are.
Triumphant Star! some Pity shew
On Coblers militant below,
Whom roguish Boys in stormy Nights
Torment, by pissing out their Lights;
Or thro’ a Chink convey their Smoke;
Inclos’d Artificers to choke.
Thou, high exalted in thy Sphere,
May’st follow still thy Calling there.
To thee the Bull will lend his hide,
By Phoebus newly tann’d and dry’d.
For thee they Argo’s Hulk will tax,
And scrape her pitchy Sides for Wax.
Then Ariadne kindly lends
Her braided Hair to make thee Ends.
The Point of Sagittarius’ Dart
Turns to an awl, by heav’nly Art;
And Vulcan, wheedled by his Wife,
Will forge for thee a Paring–Knife.
For want of Room, by Virgo’s Side,
She’ll strain a Point, and sit astride,
To take thee kindly in between,
And then the Sign An Epitaph on Partridge.
Here, five Foot deep, lies on his Back,
A Cobler, Starmonger, and Quack;
Who to the Stars in pure Good–will,
Does to his best look upward still.
Weep all you Customers that use
His Pills, his Almanacks, or Shoes;
And you that did your Fortunes seek,
Step to his Grave but once a Week:
This Earth which bears his Body’s Print,
You’ll find has so much Vertue in’t,
That I durst pawn my Ears ’twill tell
Whate’er concerns you full as well,
In Physick, Stolen Goods, or Love,
As he himself could, when above.s will be Thirteen.
It
is hard, my dear countrymen of these united nations, it is very hard
that a
Briton born, a Protestant astrologer, a man of revolution principles, an
assertor of the liberty and property of the people, should cry out, in
vain, for
justice against a Frenchman, a Papist, an illiterate pretender to
science; that
would blast my reputation, most inhumanly bury me alive, and defraud my
native
country of those services, that, in my double capacity, I daily offer
to the
publick.
What
great provocations I have receiv’d, let the impartial reader judge, and
how
unwillingly, even in my own defence, I now enter the lists against
falsehood,
ignorance and envy: But I am exasperated, at length, to drag out this
cacus from
the den of obscurity where he lurks, detect him by the light of those
stars he
has so impudently traduced, and shew there’s not a monster in the skies
so
pernicious and malevolent to mankind, as an ignorant pretender to
physick and
astrology. I shall not directly fall on the many gross errors, nor
expose the
notorious absurdities of this prostituted libeller, till I have let the
learned
world fairly into the controversy depending, and then leave the
unprejudiced to
judge of the merits and justice of the cause.
It
was towards the conclusion of the year 1707, when an impudent pamphlet
crept
into the world, intituled, ‘Predictions, etc.’ by Isaac Bickerstaff,
Esq;
— Amongst the many arrogant assertions laid down by that lying spirit of
divination, he was pleas’d to pitch on the Cardinal de Noailles and
myself,
among many other eminent and illustrious persons, that were to die
within the
compass of the ensuing year; and peremptorily fixes the month, day, and
hour of
our deaths: This, I think, is sporting with great men, and publick
spirits, to
the scandal of religion, and reproach of power; and if sovereign
princes and
astrologers must make diversion for the vulgar —— why then farewel, say
I,
to all governments, ecclesiastical and civil. But, I thank my better
stars, I am
alive to confront this false and audacious predictor, and to make him
rue the
hour he ever affronted a man of science and resentment. The Cardinal
may take
what measures he pleases with him; as his excellency is a foreigner,
and a
papist, he has no reason to rely on me for his justification; I shall
only
assure the world he is alive —— but as he was bred to letters, and is
master
of a pen, let him use it in his own defence. In the mean time I shall
present
the publick with a faithful narrative of the ungenerous treatment and
hard usage
I have received from the virulent papers and malicious practices of this
pretended astrologer.
The
28th of March, Anno Dom. 1708, being the night this sham–prophet had so
impudently fix’d for my last, which made little impression on myself;
but I
cannot answer for my whole family; for my wife, with a concern more
than usual,
prevailed on me to take somewhat to sweat for a cold; and, between the
hours of
eight and nine, to go to bed: The maid, as she was warming my bed, with
a
curiosity natural to young wenches, runs to the window, and asks of one
passing
the street, who the bell toll’d for? Dr. Partridge, says he, that famous
almanack–maker, who died suddenly this evening: The poor girl provoked,
told
him he ly’d like a rascal; the other very sedately reply’d, the sexton
had
so informed him, and if false, he was to blame for imposing upon a
stranger. She
asked a second, and a third, as they passed, and every one was in the
same tone.
Now I don’t say these are accomplices to a certain
astrological ’squire, and
that one Bickerstaff might be sauntring thereabouts; because I will
assert
nothing here but what I dare attest, and plain matter of fact. My wife
at this
fell into a violent disorder; and I must own I was a little discomposed
at the
oddness of the accident. In the mean time one knocks at my door, Betty
runs
down, and opening, finds a sober grave person, who modestly enquires if
this was
Dr. Partridge’s? She taking him for some cautious city–patient, that
came at
that time for privacy, shews him into the dining room. As soon as I
could
compose myself, I went to him, and was surprized to find my gentleman
mounted on
a table with a two–foot rule in his hand, measuring my walls, and
taking the
dimensions of the room. Pray sir, says I, not to interrupt you, have
you any
business with me? Only, sir, replies he, order the girl to bring me a
better
light, for this is but a very dim one. Sir, says I, my name is
Partridge: Oh!
the Doctor’s brother, belike, cries he; the stair–case, I believe, and
these
two apartments hung in close mourning, will be sufficient, and only a
strip of
bays round the other rooms. The Doctor must needs die rich, he had great
dealings in his way for many years; if he had no family coat, you had
as good
use the escutcheons of the company, they are as showish, and will look
as
magnificent as if he was descended from the blood royal. With that I
assumed a
great air of authority, and demanded who employ’d him, or how he came
there?
Why, I was sent, sir, by the Company of Undertakers, says he, and they
were
employed by the honest gentleman, who is executor to the good Doctor
departed;
and our rascally porter, I believe, is fallen fast asleep with the
black cloth
and sconces, or he had been here, and we might have been tacking up by
this
time. Sir, says I, pray be advis’d by a friend, and make the best of
your
speed out of my doors, for I hear my wife’s voice, (which by the by, is
pretty
distinguishable) and in that corner of the room stands a good cudgel,
which
somebody has felt e’re now; if that light in her hands, and she know the
business you come about, without consulting the stars, I can assure you
it will
be employed very much to the detriment of your person. Sir, cries he,
bowing
with great civility, I perceive extreme grief for the loss of the Doctor
disorders you a little at present, but early in the morning I’ll wait
on you
with all necessary materials. Now I mention no Mr. Bickerstaff, nor do
I say,
that a certain star–gazing ’squire has been playing my executor before
his
time; but I leave the world to judge, and if he puts things and things
fairly
together, it won’t be much wide of the mark.
Well,
once more I got my doors clos’d, and prepar’d for bed, in hopes of a
little
repose after so many ruffling adventures; just as I was putting out my
light in
order to it, another bounces as hard as he can knock; I open the
window, and ask
who’s there, and what he wants? I am Ned the sexton, replies he, and
come to
know whether the Doctor left any orders for a funeral sermon, and where
he is to
be laid, and whether his grave is to be plain or bricked? Why, sirrah,
says I,
you know me well enough; you know I am not dead, and how dare you
affront me in
this manner? Alack–a–day, replies the fellow, why ’tis in print, and the
whole town knows you are dead; why, there’s Mr. White the joiner is but
fitting screws to your coffin, he’ll be here with it in an instant: he
was
afraid you would have wanted it before this time. Sirrah, Sirrah, says
I, you
shall know tomorrow to your cost, that I am alive, and alive like to
be. Why,
’tis strange, sir, says he, you should make such a secret of your death
to us
that are your neighbours; it looks as if you had a design to defraud
the church
of its dues; and let me tell you, for one that has lived so long by the
heavens,
that’s unhandsomely done. Hist, Hist, says another rogue that stood by
him,
away Doctor, in your flannel gear as fast as you can, for here’s a
whole pack
of dismals coming to you with their black equipage, and how indecent
will it
look for you to stand fright’ning folks at your window, when you should
have
been in your coffin this three hours? In short, what with undertakers,
imbalmers, joiners, sextons, and your damn’d elegy hawkers, upon a late
practitioner in physick and astrology, I got not one wink of sleep that
night,
nor scarce a moment’s rest ever since. Now I doubt not but this
villainous
’squire has the impudence to assert, that these are entirely strangers
to him;
he, good man, knows nothing of the matter, and honest Isaac
Bickerstaff, I
warrant you, is more a man of honour, than to be an accomplice with a
pack of
rascals, that walk the streets on nights, and disturb good people in
their beds;
but he is out, if he thinks the whole world is blind; for there is one
John
Partridge can smell a knave as far as Grubstreet, — tho’ he lies in the
most
exalted garret, and writes himself ’Squire: — But I’ll keep my temper,
and
proceed in the narration.
I
could not stir out of doors for the space of three months after this,
but
presently one comes up to me in the street; Mr Partridge, that coffin
you was
last buried in I have not been yet paid for: Doctor, cries another dog,
How
d’ye think people can live by making of graves for nothing? Next time
you die,
you may e’en toll out the bell yourself for Ned. A third rogue tips me
by the
elbow, and wonders how I have the conscience to sneak abroad without
paying my
funeral expences. Lord, says one, I durst have swore that was honest Dr.
Partridge, my old friend; but poor man, he is gone. I beg your pardon,
says
another, you look so like my old acquaintance that I used to consult on
some
private occasions; but, alack, he’s gone the way of all flesh —— Look,
look, look, cries a third, after a competent space of staring at me,
would not
one think our neighbour the almanack–maker, was crept out of his grave
to take
t’other peep at the stars in this world, and shew how much he is
improv’d in
fortune–telling by having taken a journey to the other?
Nay,
the very reader, of our parish, a good sober, discreet person, has sent
two or
three times for me to come and be buried decently, or send him
sufficient
reasons to the contrary, if I have been interr’d in any other parish, to
produce my certificate, as the act requires. My poor wife is almost run
distracted with being called Widow Partridge, when she knows its false;
and once
a term she is cited into the court, to take out letters of
administration. But
the greatest grievance is, a paultry quack, that takes up my calling
just under
my nose, and in his printed directions with N.B. says, He lives in the
house of
the late ingenious Mr. John Partridge, an eminent practitioner in
leather,
physick and astrology.
But
to show how far the wicked spirit of envy, malice and resentment can
hurry some
men, my nameless old persecutor had provided me a monument at the
stone–cutter’s and would have erected it in the parish–church; and this
piece of notorious and expensive villany had actually succeeded, had I
not used
my utmost interest with the vestry, where it was carried at last but by
two
voices, that I am still alive. That stratagem failing, out comes a long
sable
elegy, bedeck’d with hour–glasses, mattocks, sculls, spades, and
skeletons,
with an epitaph as confidently written to abuse me, and my profession,
as if I
had been under ground these twenty years.
And,
after such barbarous treatment as this, can the world blame me, when I
ask, What
is become of the freedom of an Englishman? And where is the liberty and
property
that my old glorious friend came over to assert? We have drove popery
out of the
nation, and sent slavery to foreign climes. The arts only remain in
bondage,
when a man of science and character shall be openly insulted in the
midst of the
many useful services he is daily paying to the publick. Was it ever
heard, even
in Turkey or Algiers, that a state–astrologer was banter’d out of his
life
by an ignorant impostor, or bawl’d out of the world by a pack of
villanous,
deep–mouth’d hawkers? Though I print almanacks, and publish
advertisements;
though I produce certificates under the ministers and church–wardens
hands I
am alive, and attest the same on oath at quarter–sessions, out comes a
full
and true relation of the death and interment of John Partridge; Truth
is bore
down, attestations neglected, the testimony of sober persons despised,
and a man
is looked upon by his neighbours as if he had been seven years dead,
and is
buried alive in the midst of his friends and acquaintance.
Now
can any man of common sense think it consistent with the honour of my
profession, and not much beneath the dignity of a philosopher, to stand
bawling
before his own door? —— Alive! Alive ho! The famous Dr. Partridge! No
counterfeit, but all alive! —— As if I had the twelve celestial
monsters of
the zodiac to shew within, or was forced for a livelihood to turn
retailer to
May and Bartholomew Fairs. Therefore, if Her Majesty would but
graciously be
pleased to think a hardship of this nature worthy her royal
consideration, and
the next parliament, in their great wisdom cast but an eye towards the
deplorable case of their old philomath, that annually bestows his
poetical good
wishes on them, I am sure there is one Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq; would
soon be
truss’d up for his bloody predictions, and putting good subjects in
terror of
their lives: And that henceforward to murder a man by way of prophecy,
and bury
him in a printed letter, either to a lord or commoner, shall as legally
entitle
him to the present possession of Tyburn, as if he robb’d on the
highway, or
cut your throat in bed.
I
shall demonstrate to the judicious, that France and Rome are at the
bottom of
this horrid conspiracy against me; and that culprit aforesaid is a
popish
emissary, has paid his visits to St. Germains, and is now in the
measures of
Lewis XIV. That in attempting my reputation, there is a general
massacre of
learning designed in these realms; and through my sides there is a
wound given
to all the Protestant almanack–makers in the universe.
Vivat
Regina.
Mr.
Partridge hath been lately pleased to treat me after a very rough
manner, in
that which is called, his almanack for the present year: Such usage is
very
undecent from one gentleman to another, and does not at all contribute
to the
discovery of truth, which ought to be the great end in all disputes of
the
learned. To call a man fool and villain, and impudent fellow, only for
differing
from him in a point meer speculative, is, in my humble opinion, a very
improper
style for a person of his education. I appeal to the learned world,
whether in
my last year’s predictions I gave him the least provocation for such
unworthy
treatment. Philosophers have differed in all ages; but the discreetest
among
them have always differed as became philosophers. Scurrility and
passion, in a
controversy among scholars, is just so much of nothing to the purpose,
and at
best, a tacit confession of a weak cause: My concern is not so much for
my own
reputation, as that of the Republick of Letters, which Mr. Partridge
hath
endeavoured to wound through my sides. If men of publick spirit must be
superciliously treated for their ingenious attempts, how will true
useful
knowledge be ever advanced? I wish Mr. Partridge knew the thoughts
which foreign
universities have conceived of his ungenerous proceedings with me; but
I am too
tender of his reputation to publish them to the world. That spirit of
envy and
pride, which blasts so many rising genius’s in our nation, is yet
unknown
among professors abroad: The necessity of justifying myself will excuse
my
vanity, when I tell the reader that I have near a hundred honorary
letters from
several parts of Europe (some as far as Muscovy) in praise of my
performance.
Besides several others, which, as I have been credibly informed, were
open’d
in the post–office and never sent me. ’Tis true the Inquisition in
Portugal
was pleased to burn my predictions, and condem the author and readers
of them;
but I hope at the same time, it will be consider’d in how deplorable a
state
learning lies at present in that kingdom: And with the profoundest
veneration
for crown’d heads, I will presume to add, that it a little concerned His
Majesty of Portugal, to interpose his authority in behalf of a scholar
and a
gentleman, the subject of a nation with which he is now in so strict an
alliance. But the other kingdoms and states of Europe have treated me
with more
candor and generosity. If I had leave to print the Latin letters
transmitted to
me from foreign parts, they would fill a volume, and be a full defence
against
all that Mr. Partridge, or his accomplices of the Portugal Inquisition,
will be
able to object; who, by the way, are the only enemies my predictions
have ever
met with at home or abroad. But I hope I know better what is due to the
honour
of a learned correspondence in so tender a point. Yet some of those
illustrious
persons will perhaps excuse me from transcribing a passage or two in my
own
vindication. The most learned Monsieur Leibnits thus addresses to me his third
letter:
Illustrissimo Bickerstaffio Astrologiae instauratori, etc. Monsieur le
Clerc,
quoting my predictions in a treatise he published last year, is pleased
to say,
Ita nuperrime Bickerstaffius magnum illud Angliae fidus. Another great
professor
writing of me, has these words: Bickerstaffius, nobilis Anglus,
Astrologorum
hujusce Saeculi facile Princeps. Signior Magliabecchi, the Great Duke’s
famous
library–keeper, spends almost his whole letter in compliments and
praises.
’Tis true, the renowned Professor of Astronomy at Utrecht, seems to
differ
from me in one article; but it is in a modest manner, that becomes a
philosopher; as, Pace tanti viri dixerim: And pag.55, he seems to lay
the error
upon the printer (as indeed it ought) and says, vel forsan error
typographi, cum
alioquin Bickerstaffius ver doctissimus, etc.
If
Mr. Partridge had followed this example in the controversy between us,
he might
have spared me the trouble of justifying myself in so publick a manner.
I
believe few men are readier to own their errors than I, or more
thankful to
those who will please to inform me of them. But it seems this
gentleman, instead
of encouraging the progress of his own art, is pleased to look upon all
attempts
of that kind as an invasion of his province. He has been indeed so wise
to make
no objection against the truth of my predictions, except in one single
point,
relating to himself: And to demonstrate how much men are blinded by
their own
partiality, I do solemnly assure the reader, that he is the only person
from
whom I ever heard that objection offered; which consideration alone, I
think,
will take off all its weight.
With
my utmost endeavours, I have not been able to trace above two
objections ever
made against the truth of my last year’s prophecies: The first was of a
French
man, who was pleased to publish to the world, that the Cardinal de
Noailles was
still alive, notwithstanding the pretended prophecy of Monsieur
Biquerstaffe:
But how far a Frenchman, a papist, and an enemy is to be believed in
his own
case against an English Protestant, who is true to his government, I
shall leave
to the candid and impartial reader.
The
other objection is the unhappy occasion of this discourse, and relates
to an
article in my predictions, which foretold the death of Mr. Partridge,
to happen
on March 29, 1708. This he is pleased to contradict absolutely in the
almanack
he has published for the present year, and in that ungentlemanly manner
(pardon
the expression) as I have above related. In that work he very roundly
asserts,
That he is not only now alive, but was likewise alive upon that very
29th of
March, when I had foretold he should die. This is the subject of the
present
controversy between us; which I design to handle with all brevity,
perspicuity,
and calmness: In this dispute, I am sensible the eyes not only of
England, but
of all Europe, will be upon us; and the learned in every country will,
I doubt
not, take part on that side, where they find most appearance of reason
and
truth.
Without
entering into criticisms of chronology about the hour of his death, I
shall only
prove that Mr. Partridge is not alive. And my first argument is thus:
Above a
thousand gentelmen having bought his almanacks for this year, merely to
find
what he said against me; at every line they read, they would lift up
their eyes,
and cry out, betwixt rage and laughter, “They were sure no man alive
ever writ
such damn’d stuff as this.” Neither did I ever hear that opinion
disputed:
So that Mr. Partridge lies under a dilemma, either of disowning his
almanack, or
allowing himself to be “no man alive”. But now if an uninformed carcase
walks still about, and is pleased to call itself Partridge, Mr.
Bickerstaff does
not think himself any way answerable for that. Neither had the said
carcase any
right to beat the poor boy who happen’d to pass by it in the street,
crying,
“A full and true account of Dr. Partridge’s death, etc.”
Secondly,
Mr. Partridge pretends to tell fortunes, and recover stolen goods;
which all the
parish says he must do by conversing with the devil and other evil
spirits: And
no wise man will ever allow he could converse personally with either,
till after
he was dead.
Thirdly,
I will plainly prove him to be dead out of his own almanack for this
year, and
from the very passage which he produces to make us think him alive. He
there
says, “He is not only now alive, but was also alive on the very 29th of
March,
which I foretold he should die on”: By this, he declares his opinion,
that a
man may be alive now, who was not alive a twelvemonth ago. And indeed,
there
lies the sophistry of this argument. He dares not assert, he was alive
ever
since that 29th of March, but that he is now alive, and was so on that
day: I
grant the latter; for he did not die till night, as appears by the
printed
account of his death, in a letter to a lord; and whether he is since
revived I
leave the world to judge. This indeed is perfect cavilling, and I am
ashamed to
dwell any longer upon it.
Fourthly,
I will appeal to Mr. Partridge himself, whether it be probable I could
have been
so indiscreet, to begin my predictions with the only falsehood that
ever was
pretended to be in them; and this in an affair at home, where I had so
many
opportunities to be exact; and must have given such advantages against
me to a
person of Mr. Partridge’s wit and learning, who, if he could possibly
have
raised one single objection more against the truth of my prophecies,
would
hardly have spared me.
And
here I must take occasion to reprove the above mention’d writer of the
relation of Mr. Partridge’s death, in a letter to a lord; who was
pleased to
tax me with a mistake of four whole hours in my calculation of that
event. I
must confess, this censure pronounced with an air of certainty, in a
matter that
so nearly concerned me, and by a grave judicious author, moved me not a
little.
But tho’ I was at that time out of town, yet several of my friends,
whose
curiosity had led them to be exactly informed (for as to my own part,
having no
doubt at all in the matter, I never once thought of it) assured me, I
computed
to something under half an hour: which (I speak my private opinion) is
an error
of no very great magnitude, that men should raise a clamour about it. I
shall
only say, it would not be amiss, if that author would henceforth be
more tender
of other men’s reputations as well as his own. It is well there were no
more
mistakes of that kind; if there had, I presume he would have told me of
them
with as little ceremony.
There
is one objection against Mr. Partridge’s death, which I have sometimes
met
with, though indeed very slightly offered, That he still continues to
write
almanacks. But this is no more than what is common to all that
profession;
Gadbury, Poor Robin, Dove, Wing, and several others, do yearly publish
their
almanacks, though several of them have been dead since before the
Revolution.
Now the natural reason of this I take to be, that whereas it is the
privilege of
other authors to live after their deaths; almanack–makers are alone
excluded,
because their dissertations treating only upon the minutes as they
pass, become
useless as those go off. In consideration of which, Time, whose
registers they
are, gives them a lease in reversion, to continue their works after
their death.
I
should not have given the publick or myself the trouble of this
vindication, if
my name had not been made use of by several persons, to whom I never
lent it;
one of which, a few days ago, was pleased to father on me a new set of
predictions. But I think those are things too serious to be trifled
with. It
grieved me to the heart, when I saw my labours, which had cost me so
much
thought and watching, bawl’d about by common hawkers, which I only
intended
for the weighty consideration of the gravest persons. This prejudiced
the world
so much at first, that several of my friends had the assurance to ask
me whether
I were in jest? To which I only answered coldly, that the event would
shew. But
it is the talent of our age and nation, to turn things of the greatest
importance into ridicule. When the end of the year had verified all my
predictions, out comes Mr. Partridge’s almanack, disputing the point of
his
death; so that I am employed, like the general who was forced to kill
his
enemies twice over, whom a necromancer had raised to life. If Mr.
Partridge has
practised the same experiment upon himself, and be again alive, long
may he
continue so; that does not in the least contradict my veracity: But I
think I
have clearly proved, by invincible demonstration, that he died at
farthest
within half an hour of the time I foretold, and not four hours sooner,
as the
above–mentioned author, in his letter to a lord, hath maliciously
suggested,
with design to blast my credit, by charging me with so gross a
mistake.
Last
year was publish’d a paper of predictions, pretended to be written by
one
Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq; but the true design of it was to ridicule the
art of
astrology, and expose its professors as ignorant or impostors. Against
this
imputation, Dr. Partridge hath vindicated himself in his almanack for
that year.
For
a farther vindication of this famous art, I have thought fit to present
the
world with the following prophecy. The original is said to be of the
famous
Merlin, who lived about a thousand years ago; and the following
translation is
two hundred years old, for it seems to be written near the end of Henry
the
Seventh’s reign. I found it in an old edition of Merlin’s Prophecies,
imprinted at London by John Hawkins in the year 1530, page 39. I set it
down
word for word in the old orthography, and shall take leave to
subjoin a few explanatory notes.
Seven
and Ten addyd to Nyne,
Of Fraunce her Woe this is the Sygne,
Tamys Rivere twys y–frozen,
Walke sans wetyng Shoes ne Hozen.
Then comyth foorthe, ich understonde,
From Town of Stoffe to farryn Londe,
An herdye Chyftan, woe the Morne
To Fraunce, that evere he was born.
Than shall the fyshe beweyle his Bosse;
Nor shall grin Berrys make up the Losse.
Yonge Symnele shall again miscarrye:
And Norways Pryd again shall marrye.
And from the tree where Blosums feele,
Ripe Fruit shall come, and all is wele,
Reaums shall daunce Honde in Honde,
And it shall be merrye in old Inglonde,
Then old Inglonde shall be no more,
And no man shall be sorre therefore.
Geryon shall have three Hedes agayne,
Till Hapsburge makyth them but twayne.
Seven
and Ten. This line describes the year when these events shall happen.
Seven and
ten makes seventeen, which I explain seventeen hundred, and this number
added to
nine, makes the year we are now in; for it must be understood of the
natural
year, which begins the first of January.
Tamys
Rivere twys, etc. The River Thames, frozen twice in one year, so as men
to walk
on it, is a very signal accident, which perhaps hath not fallen out for
several
hundred years before, and is the reason why some astrologers have
thought that
this prophecy could never be fulfilled, because they imagine such a
thing would
never happen in our climate.
From
Town of Stoffe, etc. This is a plain designation of the Duke of
Marlborough: One
kind of stuff used to fatten land is called marle, and every body knows
that
borough is a name for a town; and this way of expression is after the
usual dark
manner of old astrological predictions.
Then
shall the Fyshe, etc. By the fish, is understood the Dauphin of France,
as their
kings eldest sons are called: ’Tis here said, he shall lament the loss
of the
Duke of Burgundy, called the Bosse, which is an old English word for
hump–shoulder, or crook–back, as that Duke is known to be; and the
prophecy
seems to mean, that he should be overcome or slain. By the green
berrys, in the
next line, is meant the young Duke of Berry, the Dauphin’s third son,
who
shall not have valour or fortune enough to supply the loss of his eldest
brother.
Yonge
Symnele, etc. By Symnele is meant the pretended Prince of Wales, who,
if he
offers to attempt anything against England, shall miscarry as he did
before.
Lambert Symnele is the name of a young man, noted in our histories for
personating the son (as I remember) of Edward the fourth.
And
Norway’s Pryd, etc. I cannot guess who is meant by Norway’s Pride,
perhaps
the reader may, as well as the sense of the two following lines.
Reaums
shall, etc. Reums, or, as the word is now, realms, is the old name for
kingdoms:
And this is a very plain prediction of our happy Union, with the
felicities that
shall attend it. It is added that Old England shall be no more, and yet
no man
shall be sorry for it. And indeed, properly speaking, England is now no
more,
for the whole island is one Kingdom, under the name of Britain.
Geryon
shall, etc. This prediction, tho’ somewhat obscure, is wonderfully
adapt.
Geryon is said to have been a king of Spain, whom Hercules slew. It was
a
fiction of the poets, that he had three heads, which the author says he
shall
have again: That is, Spain shall have three kings; which is now
wonderfully
verified; for besides the King of Portugal, which properly is part of
Spain,
there are now two rivals for Spain, Charles and Philip: But Charles
being
descended fro the Count of Hapsburgh, founder of the Austrian family,
shall soon
make those heads but two; by overturning Philip, and driving him out of
Spain.
Some
of these predictions are already fulfilled; and it is highly probable
the rest
may be in due time; and, I think, I have not forced the words, by my
explication, into any other sense than what they will naturally bear.
If this be
granted, I am sure it must be also allow’d, that the author (whoever he
were)
was a person of extraordinary sagacity; and that astrology brought to
such
perfection as this, is by no means an art to be despised, whatever Mr.
Bickerstaff, or other merry gentlemen are pleased to think. As to the
tradition
of these lines having been writ in the original by Merlin, I confess I
lay not
much weight upon it: But it is enough to justify their authority, that
the book
from whence I have transcrib’d them, was printed 170 years ago, as
appears by
the title–page. For the satisfaction of any gentleman, who may be either
doubtful of the truth, or curious to be inform’d; I shall give order to
have
the very book sent to the printer of this paper, with directions to let
anybody
see it that pleases, because I believe it is pretty scarce.