Here five foot deep, lies on his back,
A Cobbler, 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 this grave, but once a week!
This earth which bears his body's print
You'll find has so much virtue in it;
That I durst pawn my ears, 'twill tell
Whate'er concerns you, full as well
(In physic, stolen goods, or love)
As he himself could, when above!

LONDON: Printed in the Year 1708.

Squire BICKERSTAFF detected;
OR THE Astrological Impostor convicted.

BY JOHN PARTRIDGE,

Student in Physic and Astrology.

[This was written for PARTRIDGE, either by NICHOLAS ROWE or Dr. YALDEN, and put forth by him, in good faith, in proof of his continued existence.]

It is hard, my dear countrymen of these United Nations! it is very hard, that a Britain 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, and an illiterate pretender to Science, that would blast my reputation, most inhumanly bury me alive, and defraud my native country of those services which, in my double capacity [Physician and Astrologer], I daily offer the public.

What great provocations I have received, 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 lurketh, to detect him by the light of those stars he hath so impudently traduced, and to shew there is not a Monster in the skies so pernicious and malevolent to mankind as an ignorant pretender to Physic and Astrology.

I shall not directly fall on the many gross errors, nor expose the notorious absurdities of this prostituted libeller, until I have let the Learned World fairly into the controversy depending; and then leave the unprejudiced to judge of the merits and justice of my cause.

It was towards the conclusion of the year 1707 [according to the old way of reckoning the year from March 25th. The precise date is February, 1708, see p. 469], when an impudent Pamphlet crept into the world, intituled Predictions &c. by ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esquire. Among the many arrogant assertions laid down by that lying Spirit of Divination; he was pleased to pitch on the Cardinal DE NOAILLES and myself, among many other eminent and illustrious persons that were to die within the confines of the ensuing year, and peremptorily fixed the month, day, and hours of our deaths.

This, I think, is sporting with Great Men, and Public Spirits, to the scandal of Religion, and reproach of Power: and if Sovereign Princes and Astrologers must make diversion for the vulgar, why then, Farewell, 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 hath no reason to rely on me for his justification. I shall only assure the World that 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 meantime, I shall present the Public 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.

A true and impartial ACCOUNT OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF ISAAC BICKERSTAFF,
Esq., against Me.

The 29th of March, Anno Dom., 1708, being the night this Sham Prophet had so impudently fixed 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 8 and 9, to go to bed.

The maid as she was warming my bed, with the curiosity natural to young women, runs to the window, and asks of one passing the street, "Who the bell tolled for?"

"Dr. PARTRIDGE," says he, "the famous Almanack maker, who died suddenly this evening."

The poor girl provoked, told him, "He lied like a rascal!"

The other very sedately replied, "The sexton had so informed him; and if false, he was to blame for imposing on 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 were accomplices to a certain astrological Squire, and that one BICKERSTAFF might be sauntering 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 meantime, one knocks at the door. BETTY runneth down and opening, finds a sober grave person, who modestly inquires "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 surprised 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, "to order the girl to bring me a better light: for this is but a dim one."

"Sir," sayeth I, "my name is PARTRIDGE!"

"Oh! the Doctor's brother, belike," cries he. "The staircase, I believe, and these two apartments hung in close mourning will be sufficient; and only a strip of Bays [cloth] 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 [of arms], you had as good use the scutcheons of the Company. They are as showish and will look as magnificent as if he were descended from the Blood-Royal."

With that, I assumed a greater air of authority, and demanded, "Who employed him? and how he came there?"

"Why, I was sent, Sir, by the Company of Undertakers," saith he, "and they were employed by the honest gentleman who is the 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 advised by a friend, and make the best of your speed out of my doors; for I hear my wife's voice," which, by the way, is pretty distinguishable! "and in that corner of the room stands a good cudgel which somebody [i.e., himself] has felt ere now. If that light in her hands, and she knew the business you came 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 a playing my executor before his time: but I leave the
World to judge, and if it puts things to things fairly together, it won't
be much wide of the mark.

Well, once more I get my doors closed, and prepare 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 bounceth as hard as he can knock.

I open the window and ask, "Who is 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 after this manner!"

"Alack a day, Sir," replies the fellow, "why it is 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!" saith I, "you shall know to-morrow 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 who has lived so long by the heavens, that is unhandsomely done!"

"Hist! hist!" says another rogue that stood by him, "away, Doctor! into your flannel gear as fast as you can! for here is a whole pack of dismals coming to you with their black equipage; how indecent will it look for you to stand frightening folks at your window, when you should have been in your coffin this three hours!"

In short, what with Undertakers, Embalmers, Joiners, Sextons, and your Elegy hawkers upon a late practitioner in Physic 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 villanous Squire has the impudence to assert that these are entirely strangers to him; he, good man! knoweth 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 Grub street, although he lies in the most exalted garret, and writeth himself "Squire"! But I will 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 were last buried in, I have not yet been paid for."

"Doctor!" cries another dog, "How do you think people can live by making graves for nothing? Next time you die, you may even 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 expenses."

"Lord!" says one, "I durst have sworn 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 is gone the way of all flesh."

"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 another peep at the stars in this world, and shew how much he is improved 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: or if I have been interred 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 it's false: and once a Term, she is cited into the Court, to take out Letters of Administration.

But the greatest grievance is a paltry Quack that takes up my calling just under my nose; and in his printed directions with a, N.B., says: He lives in the house of the late ingenious Mr. JOHN PARTRIDGE, an eminent Practitioner in Leather, Physic, and Astrology.

But to shew how far the wicked spirit of envy, malice, and resentment can hurry some men, my nameless old persecutor had provided a monument at the stone-cutter's, and would have it erected in the parish church: and this piece of notorious and expensive villany had actually succeeded, if I had not used my utmost interest with the Vestry; where it was carried at last but by two voices, that I am alive.

That stratagem failing, out cometh a long sable Elegy bedecked with hour-glasses, mattocks, skulls, spades, and skeletons, with an Epitaph [see p. 486] 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 [WILLIAM III.] came over to assert? We have driven 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 the public. Was it ever heard, even in Turkey or Algiers, that a State Astrologer was bantered out of his life, by an ignorant impostor? or bawled out of the world, by a pack of villanous deep-mouthed hawkers?

Though I print Almanacks, and publish Advertisements; although I produce certificates under the Minister's and Churchwardens' hands, that 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 borne 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 Doctor 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 Parl[ia]m[en]t, in their great wisdom, cast but an eye towards the deplorable case of their old Philomath that annually bestoweth his poetical good wishes on them: I am sure there is one ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esquire, would soon be trussed up! for his bloody persecution, 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 robbed on the highway, or cut your throat in bed.

Advertisement.

N.B.: There is now in the Press, my Appeal to the Learned; Or my general Invitation to all Astrologers, Divines, Physicians, Lawyers, Mathematicians, Philologers, and to the Literati of the whole World, to come and take their Places in the Common Court of Knowledge, and receive the Charge given in by me, against ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq., that most notorious Impostor in Science and illiterate Pretender to the Stars; where I shall openly convict him of ignorance in his profession, impudence and falsehood in every assertion, to the great detriment and scandal of Astrology. I shall further demonstrate to the Judicious, that France and Rome are at the bottom of this horrid conspiracy against me; and that the 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!

Not satisfied with this Impartial Account, when next Almanack time came (in the following November, 1708), PARTRIDGE's Almanack for 1709 [P.P. 2465/8] contained the following:

You may remember that there was a Paper published predicting my death upon the 29th March at night, 1708, and after the day was past, the same villain told the World I was dead, and how I died, and that he was with me at the time of my death.

I thank GOD, by whose mercy I have my Being, that I am still alive, and (excepting my age) as well as ever I was in my life: as I was also at that 29th of March. And that Paper was said to be done by one BICKERSTAFF, Esq. But that was a sham name, it was done by an impudent lying fellow.

But his Prediction did not prove true! What will he say to that? For the fool had considered the "Star of my Nativity" as he said. Why the truth is, he will be hard put to it to find a salvo for his Honour. It was a bold touch! and he did not know but it might prove true.

One hardly knows whether to wonder most at the self-delusion or credulity of this last paragraph by the old quack.

This called forth from SWIFT:

A VINDICATION OF ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq., &c.

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 merely 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 Republic of Letters; which Mr. PARTRIDGE hath endeavoured to wound through my sides. If men of public 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 proceeding 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 Geniuses 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 received nearly a hundred Honorary Letters from several part of Europe, some as far as Muscovey, in praise of my performance: besides several others, which (as I have been credibly informed) were opened in the P[ost] Office, and never sent me.

It is true, the Inquisition in P[ortuga]l was pleased to burn my Predictions [A fact, as Sir PAUL METHUEN, the English Ambassador there, informed SWIFT], and condemned the Author and the readers of them: but, I hope at the same time, it will be considered in how deplorable a state Learning lieth at present in that Kingdom. And, with the profoundest reverence for crowned 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 candour 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 P[ortuga]l Inquisition, will be ever 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 for transcribing a passage or two, in my own vindication.

[15]The most learned Monsieur LEIBNITZ thus addresseth to me his third Letter, Illustrissimo BICKERSTAFFIO Astrologico Instauratori, &c. Monsieur LE CLERC, quoting my Predictions in a treatise he published last year, is pleased to say, Ita, nuperrime BICKERSTAFFIUS, magnum illud Angliae sidus. Another great Professor writing of me, has these words, BICKERSTAFFIUS nobilis Anglus, Astrologarum hujusce seculi facile Princeps. Signior MAGLIABECCHI, the Great Duke's famous Library Keeper, spendeth almost his whole Letter in compliments and praises. It is true the renowned Professor of Astronomy at Utrecht seemeth to differ from me in one article; but it is after the modest manner that becometh a Philosopher, as Pace tanti viri dixerim: and, page 55, he seemeth to lay the error upon the printer, as, indeed it ought, and sayeth, vel forsan error typographi, cum alioquin BICKERSTAFFIUS vir doctissimus, &c.

If Mr. PARTRIDGE had followed these examples in the controversy between us, he might have spared me the trouble of justifying myself in so public a manner. I believe few men are readier to own their error than I, or more thankful to those who will please to inform him of them. But it seems this Gentleman, instead of encouraging the progress of his own Art, is pleased to look upon all Attempts of this kind as an invasion of his Province.

He has been indeed so wise, as 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 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 Frenchman, 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 cause, against an English Protestant, who is true to the Government, I shall leave to the candid and impartial reader!

The other objection is the unhappy occasion of this Discourse, and relateth 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 Gentlemen having bought his Almanack 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, between rage and laughter, They were sure, no man alive ever wrote such stuff as this! Neither did I ever hear that opinion disputed. So that Mr. PARTRIDGE lieth under a dilemma, either of disowning his Almanack, or allowing himself to be no man alive.

Death is defined by all Philosophers [as] a separation of the soul and body. Now it is certain that the poor woman [Mrs. PARTRIDGE] who has best reason to know, has gone about, for some time, to every alley in the neighbourhood, and swore to her gossips that her husband had neither life nor soul in him. Therefore, if an uninformed Carcass walks still about and is pleased to call itself PARTRIDGE; Mr. BICKERSTAFF doth not think himself any way answerable for that! Neither had the said Carcass any right to beat the poor boy, who happened to pass by it in the street, crying A full and true Account of Dr. PARTRIDGE's death, &c.

SECONDLY. Mr. PARTRIDGE pretendeth 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, until 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 produceth to make us think him alive. He there sayeth, He is not only now alive, but was also alive upon that very 29th of March, which I foretold he should die on. By this, he declareth his opinion that a man may be alive now, who was not alive a twelve month ago. And, indeed, here lies the sophistry of his argument. He dareth not assert he was alive ever since the 29th of March! but that he is now alive, and was so on that day. I grant the latter, for he did not die until night, as appeareth in a printed account of his death, in a Letter to a Lord; and whether he be 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 as 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-mentioned Writer [i.e., SWIFT himself, see p. 482] 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 though I was at that time out of Town, yet several of my friends, whose curiosity had led them to be exactly informed (as for my own part; having no doubt at all of 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 clamour about it!

I shall only say, it would not be amiss, if that Author would henceforth be more tender of other men's reputation, as well as of his own! It is well there were no more mistakes of that kind: if there had been, 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, although indeed very slightly offered, That he still continueth to write Almanacks. But this is no more than what is common to all of 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 only 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. Or, perhaps, a Name can make an Almanack as well as sell one. And to strengthen this conjecture, I have heard the booksellers affirm, that they have desired Mr. PARTRIDGE to spare himself further trouble, and only to lend his Name; which could make Almanacks much better than himself.

I should not have given the Public 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 these 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, bawled about by the common hawkers of Grub street, 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 will 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 cometh 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! But that doth not, in the least, contradict my veracity! For 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 a design to blast my credit, by charging me with so gross a mistake].

FINIS.

Under the combined assault of the Wits, PARTRIDGE ceased to publish his Almanack for a while; but afterwards took heart again, publishing his "Merlinus Redivivus, being an Almanack for the year 1714, by JOHN PARTRIDGE, a Lover of Truth [P.P. 2465/6];" at p. 2 of which is the following epistle.

To ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.

SIR,

There seems to be a kind of fantastical propriety in a dead man's addressing himself to a person not in Being. ISAAC BICKERSTAFF [i.e., RICHARD STEELE] is no more [the Tatler having come to an end], and I have now nothing to dispute with on the subject of his fictions concerning me, sed magni nominis umbra, "a shadow only, and a mighty name."

I have indeed been for some years silent, or, in the language of Mr. BICKERSTAFF, "dead"; yet like many an old man that is reported so by his heirs, I have lived long enough to bury my successor [the Tatler having been discontinued]. In short, I am returned to Being after you have left it; and since you were once pleased to call yourself my brother-astrologer, the world may be apt to compare our story to that of the twin-stars CASTOR and POLLUX, and say it was our destiny, not to appear together, but according to the fable, to live and die by turns.

Now, Sir, my intention in this Epistle is to let you know that I shall behave myself in my new Being with as much moderation as possible, and that I have no longer any quarrel with you [i.e., STEELE], for the accounts you inserted in your writings [the joke was continued in the Tatler] concerning my death, being sensible that you were no less abused in that particular than myself.

The person from whom you took up that report, I know, was your namesake, the author of BICKERSTAFF's Predictions, a notorious cheat.[16] And if you had been indeed as much an Astrologer as you pretended, you might have known that his word was no more to be taken than that of an Irish evidence [SWIFT was now Dean of St. Patrick's]: that not being the only Tale of a Tub he had vented. The only satisfaction therefore, I expect is, that your bookseller in the next edition of your Works [The Tatler], do strike out my name and insert his in the room of it. I have some thoughts of obliging the World with his nativity, but shall defer that till another opportunity.

I have nothing to add further, but only that when you think fit to return to life again in whatever shape, of Censor [the designation of the supposed Writer of the Tatler], a Guardian, an Englishman, or any other figure, I shall hope you will do justice to

Your revived friend and servant,

JOHN PARTRIDGE.

On the last leaf of this Almanack is the following notice:—

This is to give notice to all people, that all those Prophecies, Predictions, Almanacks, and other pamphlets, that had my name either true, or shammed with the want of a Letter [i.e., spelling his name PARTRIGE instead of PARTRIDGE]: I say, they are all impudent forgeries, by a breed of villains, and wholly without my knowledge or consent. And I doubt not but those beggarly villains that have scarce bread to eat without being rogues, two or three poor printers and a bookbinder, with honest BEN, will be at their old Trade again of Prophesying in my name. This is therefore to give notice, that if there is anything in print in my name beside this Almanack, you may depend on it that it is a lie, and he is a villain that writes and prints it.

In his Almanack for 1715 [P.P. 2465/7], PARTRIDGE says—

It is very probable, that the beggarly knavish Crew will be this year also printing Prophecies and Predictions in my name, to cheat the country as they used to do. This is therefore to give notice, that if there is anything of that kind done in my name besides this Almanack printed by the Company of Stationers, you may be certain it is not mine, but a cheat, and therefore refuse it.

[15] The quotations here, are said to be a parody of those of BENTLEY in his controversy with BOYLE.

[16] Vide Dr. S[WI]FT.

THE PRESENT STATE OF WIT,
IN A LETTER TO A
Friend in the Country.

LONDON:

Printed in the Year, MDCCXI.
(Price 3_d_.)

THE Present State OF WIT, &c.

SIR,

You acquaint me in your last, that you are still so busy building at ——, that your friends must not hope to see you in Town this year: at the same time, you desire me, that you may not be quite at a loss in conversation among the beau monde next winter, to send you an account of the present State of Wit in Town: which, without further preface, I shall endeavour to perform; and give you the histories and characters of all our Periodical Papers, whether monthly, weekly, or diurnal, with the same freedom I used to send you our other Town news.

I shall only premise, that, as you know, I never cared one farthing, either for Whig or Tory: so I shall consider our Writers purely as they are such, without any respect to which Party they belong.

Dr. KING has, for some time, lain down his monthly Philosophical Transactions, which the title-page informed us at first, were only to be continued as they sold; and though that gentleman has a world of Wit, yet as it lies in one particular way of raillery, the Town soon grew weary of his Writings: though I cannot but think that their author deserves a much better fate than to languish out the small remainder of his life in the Fleet prison.

About the same time that the Doctor left off writing, one Mr. OZELL put out his Monthly Amusement; which is still continued: and as it is generally some French novel or play indifferently translated, it is more or less taken notice of, as the original piece is more or less agreeable.

As to our Weekly Papers, the poor Review [by DANIEL DEFOE] is quite exhausted, and grown so very contemptible, that though he has provoked all his Brothers of the Quill round, none of them will enter into a controversy with him. This fellow, who had excellent natural parts, but wanted a small foundation of learning, is a lively instance of those Wits who, as an ingenious author says, "will endure but one skimming"[!].

The Observator was almost in the same condition; but since our party struggles have run so high, he is much mended for the better: which is imputed to the charitable assistance of some outlying friends.

These two authors might however have flourished some time longer, had not the controversy been taken up by abler hands.

The Examiner is a paper which all men, who speak without prejudice, allow to be well written. Though his subject will admit of no great variety; he is continually placing it in so many different lights, and endeavouring to inculcate the same thing by so many beautiful changes of expression, that men who are concerned in no Party, may read him with pleasure. His way of assuming the Question in debate is extremely artful; and his Letter to Crassus is, I think, a masterpiece. As these Papers are supposed to have been written by several hands, the critics will tell you that they can discern a difference in their styles and beauties; and pretend to observe that the first Examiners abound chiefly in Wit, the last in Humour.

Soon after their first appearance, came out a Paper from the other side, called the Whig Examiner, written with so much fire, and in so excellent a style, as put the Tories in no small pain for their favourite hero. Every one cried, "BICKERSTAFF must be the author!" and people were the more confirmed in this opinion, upon its being so soon laid down: which seemed to shew that it was only written to bind the Examiners to their good behaviour, and was never designed to be a Weekly Paper.

The Examiners, therefore, have no one to combat with, at present, but their friend the Medley: the author of which Paper, though he seems to be a man of good sense, and expresses it luckily now and then, is, I think, for the most part, perfectly a stranger to fine writing.

I presume I need not tell you that the Examiner carries much the more sail, as it is supposed to be written by the direction, and under the eye of some Great Persons who sit at the helm of affairs, and is consequently looked on as a sort of Public Notice which way they are steering us.

The reputed author is Dr. S[WIF]T, with the assistance, sometimes, of Dr.
ATT[ERBUR]Y and Mr. P[RIO]R.

The Medley is said to be written by Mr. OLD[MIXO]N; and supervised by Mr. MAYN[WARIN]G, who perhaps might entirely write those few Papers which are so much better than the rest.

Before I proceed further in the account of our Weekly Papers, it will be necessary to inform you that at the beginning of the winter [on Jan. 2, 1711], to the infinite surprise of all men, Mr. STEELE flang up his Tatler; and instead of ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esquire, subscribed himself RICHARD STEELE to the last of those Papers, after a handsome compliment to the Town for their kind acceptance of his endeavours to divert them.

The chief reason he thought fit to give for his leaving off writing was, that having been so long looked on in all public places and companies as the Author of those papers, he found that his most intimate friends and acquaintance were in pain to speak or act before him.

The Town was very far from being satisfied with this reason, and most people judged the true cause to be, either

That he was quite spent, and wanted matter to continue his
undertaking any longer; or

That he laid it down as a sort of submission to, and composition
with, the Government, for some past offences;

or, lastly,

That he had a mind to vary his Shape, and appear again in some new light.

However that were, his disappearance seemed to be bewailed as some general calamity. Every one wanted so agreeable an amusement, and the Coffee-houses began to be sensible that the Esquire's Lucubrations alone had brought them more customers, than all their other News Papers put together.

It must indeed be confessed that never man threw up his pen, under stronger temptations to have employed it longer. His reputation was at a greater height, than I believe ever any living author's was before him. It is reasonable to suppose that his gains were proportionably considerable. Every one read him with pleasure and good-will; and the Tories, in respect to his other good qualities, had almost forgiven his unaccountable imprudence in declaring against them.

Lastly, it was highly improbable that, if he threw off a Character the ideas of which were so strongly impressed in every one's mind, however finely he might write in any new form, that he should meet with the same reception.

To give you my own thoughts of this Gentleman's Writings, I shall, in the first place, observe, that there is a noble difference between him and all the rest of our Polite and Gallant Authors. The latter have endeavoured to please the Age by falling in with them, and encouraging them in their fashionable vices and false notions of things. It would have been a jest, some time since, for a man to have asserted that anything witty could be said in praise of a married state, or that Devotion and Virtue were any way necessary to the character of a Fine Gentleman. BICKERSTAFF ventured to tell the Town that they were a parcel of fops, fools, and coquettes; but in such a manner as even pleased them, and made them more than half inclined to believe that he spoke truth.

Instead of complying with the false sentiments or vicious tastes of the Age—either in morality, criticism, or good breeding—he has boldly assured them, that they were altogether in the wrong; and commanded them, with an authority which perfectly well became him, to surrender themselves to his arguments for Virtue and Good Sense.

It is incredible to conceive the effect his writings have had on the Town; how many thousand follies they have either quite banished or given a very great check to! how much countenance, they have added to Virtue and Religion! how many people they have rendered happy, by shewing them it was their own fault if they were not so! and, lastly, how entirely they have convinced our young fops and young fellows of the value and advantages of Learning!

He has indeed rescued it out of the hands of pedants and fools, and discovered the true method of making it amiable and lovely to all mankind. In the dress he gives it, it is a most welcome guest at tea-tables and assemblies, and is relished and caressed by the merchants on the Change. Accordingly there is not a Lady at Court, nor a Banker in Lombard Street, who is not verily persuaded that Captain STEELE is the greatest Scholar and best Casuist of any man in England.

Lastly, his writings have set all our Wits and Men of Letters on a new way of Thinking, of which they had little or no notion before: and, although we cannot say that any of them have come up to the beauties of the original, I think we may venture to affirm, that every one of them writes and thinks much more justly than they did some time since.

The vast variety of subjects which Mr. STEELE has treated of, in so different manners, and yet ALL so perfectly well, made the World believe that it was impossible they should all come from the same hand. This set every one upon guessing who was the Esquire's friend? and most people at first fancied it must be Doctor SWIFT; but it is now no longer a secret, that his only great and constant assistant was Mr. ADDISON.

This is that excellent friend to whom Mr. STEELE owes so much; and who refuses to have his name set before those Pieces which the greatest pens in England would be proud to own. Indeed, they could hardly add to this Gentleman's reputation: whose works in Latin and English Poetry long since convinced the World, that he was the greatest Master in Europe of those two languages.

I am assured, from good hands, that all the visions, and other tracts of that way of writing, with a very great number of the most exquisite pieces of wit and raillery throughout the Lucubrations are entirely of this Gentleman's composing: which may, in some measure, account for that different Genius, which appears In the winter papers, from those of the summer; at which time, as the Examiner often hinted, this friend of Mr. STEELE was in Ireland.

Mr. STEELE confesses in his last Volume of the Tatlers that he is obliged to Dr. SWIFT for his Town Shower, and the Description of the Morn, with some other hints received from him in private conversation.

I have also heard that several of those Letters, which came as from unknown hands, were written by Mr. HENLEY: which is an answer to your query, "Who those friends are, whom Mr. STEELE speaks of in his last Tatler?"

But to proceed with my account of our other papers. The expiration of BICKERSTAFF's Lucubrations was attended with much the same consequences as the death of MELIBOEUS's Ox in VIRGIL: as the latter engendered swarms of bees, the former immediately produced whole swarms of little satirical scribblers.

One of these authors called himself the Growler, and assured us that, to make amends for Mr. STEELE's silence, he was resolved to growl at us weekly, as long as we should think fit to give him any encouragement. Another Gentleman, with more modesty, called his paper, the Whisperer; and a third, to please the Ladies, christened his, the Telltale.

At the same time came out several Tatlers; each of which, with equal truth and wit, assured us that he was the genuine ISAAC BICKERSTAFF.

It may be observed that when the Esquire laid down his pen; though he could not but foresee that several scribblers would soon snatch it up, which he might (one would think) easily have prevented: he scorned to take any further care about it, but left the field fairly open to any worthy successor. Immediately, some of our Wits were for forming themselves into a Club, headed by one Mr. HARRISON, and trying how they could shoot in this BOW of ULYSSES; but soon found that this sort of writing requires so fine and particular a manner of Thinking, with so exact a Knowledge of the World, as must make them utterly despair of success.

They seemed indeed at first to think, that what was only the garnish of the former Tatlers, was that which recommended them; and not those Substantial Entertainments which they everywhere abound in. According they were continually talking of their Maid, Night Cap, Spectacles, and CHARLES LILLIE. However there were, now and then, some faint endeavours at Humour and sparks of Wit: which the Town, for want of better entertainment, was content to hunt after, through a heap of impertinences; but even those are, at present, become wholly invisible and quite swallowed up in the blaze of the Spectator.

You may remember, I told you before, that one cause assigned for the laying down the Tatler was, Want of Matter; and, indeed, this was the prevailing opinion in Town: when we were surprised all at once by a paper called the Spectator, which was promised to be continued every day; and was written in so excellent a style, with so nice a judgment, and such a noble profusion of Wit and Humour, that it was not difficult to determine it could come from no other hands but those which had penned the Lucubrations.

This immediately alarmed these gentlemen, who, as it is said Mr. STEELE phrases it, had "the Censorship in Commission." They found the new Spectator came on like a torrent, and swept away all before him. They despaired ever to equal him in Wit, Humour, or Learning; which had been their true and certain way of opposing him: and therefore rather chose to fall on the Author; and to call out for help to all good Christians, by assuring them again and again that they were the First, Original, True, and Undisputed ISAAC BICKERSTAFF.

Meanwhile, the Spectator, whom we regard as our Shelter from that flood of false wit and impertinence which was breaking in upon us, is in every one's hands; and a constant topic for our morning conversation at tea-tables and coffee-houses. We had at first, indeed, no manner of notion how a diurnal paper could be continued in the spirit and style of our present Spectators: but, to our no small surprise, we find them still rising upon us, and can only wonder from whence so prodigious a run of Wit and Learning can proceed; since some of our best judges seem to think that they have hitherto, in general, outshone even the Esquire's first Tatlers.

Most people fancy, from their frequency, that they must be composed by a
Society: I withal assign the first places to Mr. STEELE and his Friend.

I have often thought that the conjunction of those two great Geniuses, who seem to stand in a class by themselves, so high above all our other Wits, resembled that of two statesmen in a late reign, whose characters are very well expressed in their two mottoes, viz., Prodesse quam conspici [LORD SOMERS], and Otium cum dignitate [CHARLES MONTAGU, Earl of HALIFAX]. Accordingly the first [ADDISON] was continually at work behind the curtain, drew up and prepared all those schemes, which the latter still drove on, and stood out exposed to the World, to receive its praises or censures.

Meantime, all our unbiassed well-wishers to Learning are in hopes that the known Temper and prudence of one of these Gentlemen will hinder the other from ever lashing out into Party, and rendering that Wit, which is at present a common good, odious and ungrateful to the better part of the Nation [by which, of course, GAY meant the Tories].

If this piece of imprudence does not spoil so excellent a Paper, I propose to myself the highest satisfaction in reading it with you, over a dish of tea, every morning next winter.

As we have yet had nothing new since the Spectator, it only remains for me to assure you, that I am

Yours, &c., J[OHN] G[AY].

Westminster, May 3, 1711.

POSTCRIPT.

Upon a review of my letter, I find I have quite forgotten the British Apollo; which might possibly have happened, from its having, of late, retreated out of this end of the Town into the country: where, I am informed however, that it still recommends itself by deciding wagers at cards, and giving good advice to shopkeepers and their apprentices.

FINIS.