music; and Providence would never have bestowed on me two such gifts, without designing them for the noblest ends. I visit, indeed, all the flowers and blossoms of the field and garden; but whatever I collect thence, enriches myself, without the least injury to their beauty, their smell, or their taste. Now, for you and your skill in architecture and other mathematics, I have little to say: in that building of yours there might, for aught I know, have been labor and method enough; but, by woful experience for us both, it is too plain the materials are naught; and I hope you will henceforth take warning, and consider duration and matter, as well as method and art. You boast, indeed, of being obliged to no other creature, but of drawing and spinning out all from yourself; that is to say, if we may judge of the liquor in the vessel by what issues out, you possess a good plentiful store of dirt and poison in your breast; and, though I would by no means lessen or disparage your genuine stock of either, yet I doubt you are somewhat obliged, for an increase of both, to a little foreign assistance. Your inherent portion of dirt does not fail of acquisitions, by sweepings exhaled from below; and one insect furnishes you with a share of poison to destroy another. So that, in short, the question comes all to this: whether is the nobler being of the two, that which, by a lazy contemplation of four inches round, by an overweening pride, feeding and engendering on itself, turns all into excrement and venom, producing nothing at all but flybane and a cobweb; or that which, by a universal range, with long search, much study, true judgment, and distinction of things, brings home honey and wax ?""" One of the most amusing of the papers of Swift is entitled "Predictions for the year 1708; 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 they will come to pass. Written to prevent the people of England from being further imposed on by vulgar almanac-makers. By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq." The chief object of this was to hold up to deserved ridicule one John Partridge, a very celebrated almanac-maker of those times, who pretended to predict the events of each ensuing year; and it is astonishing what confidence the public placed in his prognostications. The prediction of "Isaac Bickerstaff," relative to the great astrologer, is as follows: PARTRIDGE'S DEATH FORETOLD. 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 almanac-maker; I have consulted the star 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. This was followed up by "An Answer to Bickerstaff," and another pan. phlet called "The Accomplishment of the First of Mr. Bickerstaff's Predictions, being an Account of the Death of Mr. Partridge, the Almanac-maker, upon the 29th instant, in a Letter to a Person of Honor," both written by Swift, with his usual exquisite humor. The following is the latter piece: PARTRIDGE'S DEATH REALIZED. 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 almanac-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 almanac, 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, though 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. Kirleus1 were sent for to visit, and to prescribe to him. Upon this intelligence, I sent thrice every day one 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 for some time 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 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 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 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 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 1 Two famous quacks of that day. 441 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 the 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 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 almanacs, were mere impositions on 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 takes it out of any old almanac, as he thinks fit; the rest was my own invention to make my almanac 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 my astrology; though 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 fanatic 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 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 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 endeavor to account for it by chance, or the effect of imagination: for my own part, though I believe no man hath 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 surprised, and at a loss, and should infallibly expect the accomplishment of all the rest. It is amusing to think what a large number of persons at the time actually believed the accomplishment had taken place in all respects according to the relation. The wits of the time, too, among whom were Steele and Addison, supported Swift, and uniformly affirmed that Partridge had died on the day and hour predicted. The distress and vexation of Partridge himself were beyond all measure ridiculous, and he absolutely had the folly to insert the following advertisement at the close of his next year's almanac:— "Whereas it has been industriously given out by Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., and others, to prevent the sale of this year's almanac, that John Partridge is dead: this may inform all his loving countrymen, that he is still living, in health; and they are knaves that reported it otherwise."1 The most interesting account, however, of the singularly comic consequences of this prediction was drawn up by the Rev. Dr. Yalden, Mr. Partridge's neighbor, of whom, as connected with this humorous affair, I will give a short account, succeeding Swift, though it be not in exact chronological order. Though Swift wrote much that ranks under poetry, yet he had none of the characteristics of a true poet-nothing of the sublime or the tender; nothing, in short, that reaches or affects the heart. "It could scarcely be expected," says a critic, "that an irreligious divine, a heartless politician, and a selfish lover, could possess the elements of true poetry; and, therefore, Swift may be considered rather as a rhymer than a poet." This is true; as he himself says in the "Verses on his own Death:" "The Dean was famous in his time, And had a kind of knack at rhyme This "knack” he had in a very eminent degree-the "knack" of writing easy, natural rhymes-of using just the very words in verse that any one would select as the best in prose. In proof of which, take the following selection: BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. In ancient times, as story tells, The saints would often leave their cells, 1 Drake's Essays, vol. i. p. 64. Having through all the village pass'd, They scarce had spoke, when fair and soft The roof began to mount aloft; Aloft rose every beam and rafter; The heavy wall climb'd slowly after. The chimney widen'd, and grew higher; Became a steeple with a spire. The kettle to the top was hoist, And there stood fastened to a joist, In vain; for a superior force, A wooden Jack, which had almost |
