MY LORD,
In obedience to your Lordship's commands, as well as to satisfy my own curiosity; I have, for some days past, inquired constantly after PARTRIDGE the Almanack maker: of whom, it was foretold in Mr. BICKERSTAFF's Predictions, published about a month ago, that he should die, the 29th instant, about eleven at night, of a raging fever.
I had some sort of knowledge of him, when I was employed 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; although I hear his friends did not seem to apprehend him in any danger.
About two or three days ago, he grew ill; was confined first to his chamber, and in a few hours after, to his bed: where Dr. CASE and Mrs. KIRLEUS [two London quacks] were sent for, to visit, and to prescribe to him.
Upon this intelligence, I sent thrice every day a servant or other, to inquire 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, seemed surprised 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 delirious: but, when I saw him, he had his understanding as well as ever I knew, and spoke strong and hearty, without any seeming uneasiness or constraint.
After I had told him, I was sorry to see him in those melancholy circumstances, and said some other civilities suitable to the occasion; I desired him to tell me freely and ingenuously, whether the Predictions, Mr. BICKERSTAFF had published relating to his death, had not too much affected and worked on his imagination?
He confessed he 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 surprised 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 convinced of Mr. BICKERSTAFF's ignorance."
He replied, "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 learned (who can only judge 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 Predictions?"
At which, he shook his head, and said, "O, 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 upon the people."
He replied, "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 taketh it out of any old Almanack, as he thinketh 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 physic than by astrology! although 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 deathbed, he declared himself a Nonconformist, and had a Fanatic [the political designation of Dissenters] preacher to be his spiritual guide.
After half an hour's conversation, I took my leave; being almost stifled by the closeness of the room.
I imagined 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 PARTRIGE 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 [see p. 173]. In the other circumstances he was exact enough.
But whether he hath not been the cause of this poor man's death as well as the Predictor may be very reasonably disputed. However, it must be confessed the matter is odd enough, whether we should endeavour to account for it by chance or the effect of imagination.
For my own part, although I believe no man has less faith in these matters, yet I shall wait with some impatience, and not without expectation, the fulfilling of Mr. BICKERSTAFF's second prediction, that the Cardinal De NOAILLES is to die upon the 4th of April [1708]; and if that should be verified as exactly as this of poor PARTRIDGE, I must own I shall be wholly surprised, and at a loss, and infallibly expect the accomplishment of all the rest.
[In the original broadside, there are Deaths with darts, winged hour-glasses, crossed marrow-bones, &c.]
[JONATHAN SWIFT.]
An Elegy on Mr. PATRIGE, the Almanack maker, who died on the 29th of this instant March, 1708.
[Original broadside in the British Museum, C. 39. k./74.]
Well, 'tis as BICKERSTAFF has guest;
Though we all took it for a jest;
PATRIGE is dead! nay more, he died
Ere he could prove the good Squire lied!
Strange, an Astrologer should die
Without one wonder in the sky
Not one of all his crony stars
To pay their duty at his hearse!
No meteor, no eclipse appeared,
No comet with a flaming beard!
The sun has rose and gone to bed
Just as if PATRIGE 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 wondered what analogy
There is 'twixt[11] Cobbling and Astrology?
How PATRIGE made his optics rise
From a shoe-sole, to reach the skies?
A list, the cobblers' 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
Adorned with golden stars and rays;
Which plainly shews the near alliance
'Twixt Cobbling and the Planet science.
Besides, that slow-paced sign Bo-otes
As 'tis miscalled; we know not who 'tis?
But PATRIGE ended all disputes;
He knew his trade! and called it Boots![12]
The Horned Moon which heretofore
Upon their shoes, the Romans wore,
Whose wideness kept their toes from corns,
And whence we claim our Shoeing Horns,
Shews how the art of Cobbling bears
A near resemblance to the Spheres.
A scrap of parchment hung by Geometry,
A great refinement in Barometry,
Can, like the stars, foretell the weather:
And what is parchment else, but leather?
Which an Astrologer might use
Either for Almanacks or shoes.
Thus PATRIGE, by his Wit and parts,
At once, did practise both these Arts;
And as the boding 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 PATRIGE could as well
Creep in the dark, from leathern cell;
And in his fancy, fly as far,
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 would join
To Venus, in aspect malign,
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 different side:
One rose a Star; the other fell
Beneath, and mended shoes in hell.
Thus PATRIGE still shines in each Art,
The Cobbling, and Star-gazing Part;
And is installed as good a star
As any of the CAESARS are.
Thou, high exalted in thy sphere,
May'st follow still thy calling there!
To thee, the Bull will lend his hide,
By Phoebus newly tanned and dried!
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 heavenly art!
And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife,
Will forge for thee, a paring-knife!
Triumphant Star! some pity shew
On Cobblers militant below!
[13] But do not shed thy influence down
Upon St. James's end o' the Town!
Consider where the moon and stars
Have their devoutest worshippers!
Astrologers and lunatics
Have in Moorfields their stations fixt:
Hither, thy gentle aspect bend,
[14] Nor look asquint on an old friend!
[11] PATRIGE was a cobbler.
[12] See his Almanack.
[13] Sed nec in Arctoo sede tibi legeris Orbe, &c.
[14] Neve tuam videas obliquo idere Romam.