The Square of Sevens
The Square of Sevens PrefaceTHE SQUARE OF SEVENSTHE TAVOLA OF SIGNIFICANCIES AND INFLUENCES, PROPERTO THE TRUE READING OF THE PARALLELOGRAM; ADJUSTED IN A SYSTEM OF ALTERNATIVESCopyright
The Square of Sevens
Edward Prime Stevenson
Preface
"'Tis easy as lying."—HamletIt is safe to presume that even the most inquisitive
book-hunters of the present day, and few of the fellowship during
two or three generations past, have encountered the scarce and
curious little volume here presented, as in a friendly literary
resurrection—Robert Antrobus's "The Square of Sevens, and the
Parallelogram." Its mathematical title hardly hints at the
amusement that the book affords. With its solemn faith in the
gravity of its mysteries, with its uncertain spellings and
capital-icings such as belong to even the Eighteenth Century's
early part, with its quaint phrases and sly observations (all the
time sticking strictly close to business), it has a literary
character, as well as me occult, that is quite its
own.Fortune-telling with cards and belief in fortune-telling
with cards—like a hundred greater and lesser follies of the
mind—were straws floating along the current of British life,
intellectual and social, during the reign of George the Second.
This was the case, in spite of the enlightening influences of
religion, science, and philosophy. Modish society was addicted to
matters over which argument was hardly worth while—in which respect
we find modish society the same in all epochs. Our ancestresses
particularly were often charming women, and almost as often
sensible women; but, like the men of Athens, they were too
superstitious. Often were they such in a fond and amusing degree.
Lady Betty or Lady Selina—for that matter, even Sir Tompkin and my
lord Puce—might be spirited men and women of the world. But they
did not repudiate the idea of ghosts. They abhorred a mirror's
breakage. They disliked a Friday's errand. They shuddered over a
seven-times sneeze or at a howling dog at midnight. And the gentle
sex, especially, would and did tell fortunes almost as jealously as
play quadrille and piquet. Let us be courteous to them. Let us
remember that Esoteric Buddhism, Faith Healing, and Psychic
Phenomena were not yet enjoying systematic cultivation and solemn
propagandism; and that relatively few dying folk were allowed to
"go on with their dying" as part of a process of healing which
excludes medicine and insists on the conviction that the invalids
are not ill!But to our "Square of Sevens"—with which even a Gallio
may deign to be diverted—especially if in using it the air is found
to be full of coincidences. The story of the book is already
alluded to, as odd. The inquisitive reader may be referred to
"certain copies only." Therein, "inserted by Afterthought on the
Author's part" (and therefore in a mere fraction of whatever
represented the extremely small edition of the work), may be sought
the "Prefatory Explication, made for the Benefit of My Friends,
Male and Female." In recounting the origin of the manual, its
author is candid, but at the same time too long-winded for quoting
entire. Enough to say, as the substitute for a lengthy tale of
facts, that prior to the year 1731 the author of "The Square of
Sevens," Mr. Robert Antrobus, "a Gentleman of Bath," was called in
the month of November to pass sundry months in Tretelly, that
antique but still lively little town of Cornwall. He describes
himself as "exceedingly vexed and inconvenienced by Summons on my
Affairs connected with the Parcelling of a piece of Property,
unexpectedly acquired." Mr. Antrobus—who, by-the-bye, may perhaps
be associated in the memories of readers of minor
Eighteenth-Century correspondence with such notables of the day as
William Pitt, Dr. Johnson, Admiral Byng, Mark Akenside, William
Pulteney, the Duke of Cumberland, and many others of the time—was a
shy, silent man of wealth. Also was he one of considerable
learning, out of the way and other, including an interest in
gypsies and gypsy language remarkable for the
period.He lodged at "the only Inn of any suitability" in the
place. Thereby be made an unexpected acquaintance. Before a week
had elapsed, he became much interested in the fact that under the
same roof, but in more bumble quarters than his own, was lying and
dying another stranger in the place. This was a man of some forty
years, known only as "Mr. George." His home is not a clear matter,
nor that he had any relatives except a little girl of six or seven
years old, his child. It is likely that in alluding to him in the
"Prefatory Explication" mentioned, Mr. Antrobus disguised what was
already obscure, and that "Mr. George" of the "troublesome Talk of
the Inn-people" is an abbreviated pseudonyme.