The celebrated almanac of “Francis Moore, physician,” to whose
predictions thousands are accustomed to look with implicit confidence
and veneration, is rivalled, on the continent, by the almanac of Liège,
by “Matthew Laensberg,” who there enjoys an equal degree of celebrity.
Whether the name of Laensberg is a real or an assumed name is a matter
of great doubt. A tradition, preserved in the family of the first
printers of the work, ascribes it to a canon of St. Bartholomew, at
Liège, who lived about the conclusion of the sixteenth century, or at
the beginning of the seventeenth. This is further corroborated, by a
picture of a canon of that church which still exists, and which is
conjectured by many to represent the inventor of the celebrated almanac
of Liège. Figure to yourself an old man, seated in an arm chair, his
left hand resting on a globe, and his right holding a telescope. At his
feet are seen different mathematical instruments, several volumes and
sheets of paper, with circles and triangles drawn upon them. His eyes
are large and prominent; he has a dull, heavy look, a nose in the form
of a shell, and large ears, which are left uncovered by a greasy cap.
His large mouth, half open, announces surliness and pedantry; frightful
wrinkles furrow his face, and his long bushy beard covers an enormous
band. This man is, besides, muffled up in an old cassock, patched in
several places. Under his hideous portrait is the inscription “D. T. V.
Bartholomæi Canonicus et Philosophiæ Professor.”
Such is the picture given by a person who examined this portrait, and
who, though he was at the pains to search the registers of the chapter
of Liège, was unable to find any name that at all corresponded with the
above designation. Hence it may be fairly concluded, that the canon,
whose portrait has just been exhibited, assumed the name of Matthew
Laensbert, or Laensberg, as well as the title of professor of
philosophy, for the purpose of publishing his almanac, with the
prognostications, which have rendered it so celebrated.
The earliest of these almanacs known to exist is of the year 1636. It
bears the name of Matthew Lansbert, mathematician, and not Laensberg, as
it is now written. In the middle of the title is seen the portrait of an
astronomer, nearly resembling that which is still placed there. After
the printer’s name, are the words, “with permission of the superior
powers.” This is repeated in the eleven first almanacs, but in that for
1647, we find, “with the favour and privilege of his highness.” This
privilege, granted by Ferdinand of Bavaria, prince of Liège, is actually
inserted. It gives permission to Leonard Streete to print Matthew
Laensberg’s almanac, and forbids other printers to make copies of it,
upon pain of confiscation, and other penalties.
The name of this prophet, spelt Lansbert in the first almanacs, has
since been regularly written Laensberg. It is to this privilege of the
prince bishop of Liège that Voltaire alludes in these lines of his
Epistle to the king of Denmark:--
Et quand vous écrirez sur l’almanac de Liège,
Ne parlez des saisons qu’avec un privilège.
The four first pages of the Liège almanac for 1636, are occupied by a
piece entitled “The Twelve Celestial Signs governing the Human Body.”
Cancer, for instance, governs the breast, the belly, and the lungs, with
all their diseases. This was at that time the fashionable system of
astrology, which was succeeded by many others, equally ill-founded, and
equally popular. Yet it is a fact, that could scarcely be believed, were
it not stated in an advertisement prefixed, that the physicians
manifested a jealousy lest the prophet of Liège should extend his
dominion over the healing art. They obtained an order that every thing
relating to the influence of the celestial signs on diseases should be
suppressed, and this retrenchment took place, for the first time, in
1679. The principal part, however, was preserved, and still ensures the
success of this wonderful performance. It consists of general
predictions concerning the variations of the seasons, and the
occurrences of the year. In each month are marked the days when there
will be rain, and those that will be dry; whether there will be snow or
hail, high winds, storms, &c. Sterne alludes to this in his Tristram
Shandy, when he says, “I have observed this 26th of March, 1759, a rainy
day, notwithstanding the almanac of Liège.”
The general predictions mention the occurrences that are to take place
in every month. Accident has frequently been wonderfully favourable to
the prophet; and he owes all his reputation and celebrity to the luck of
having announced the gaining of a battle, or the death of some
distinguished person. An anecdote of Madame Du-barri, at that time
all-powerful at the court of Louis XIV., is not a little singular.
When the king was attacked with the malady which put an end to his life,
that lady was obliged to leave Versailles. She then had occasion, says
the author of her life, to recollect the almanac of Liège, which had
given her great uneasiness, and of which she had suppressed all the
copies she was able. Amongst the predictions for the month of April, in
that almanac, was the following: “A lady, in the highest favour, will
act her last part.” She frequently said, “I wish this odious month of
April were over.” According to the prediction, she had really acted “her
last part,” for the king died in the following month, May 1774.[76]
[76] Repository of Arts.
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