On Divination BOOK II by Cicero
On Divination by Cicero (translated by C.D.Yonge)
BOOK II.
I. When I have been considering, as I frequently have, with deep and prolonged cogitation, by what means I might serve as many persons as possible, so as never to cease from doing service to my country, no better method has occurred to me than that of instructing my fellow-citizens in the noblest arts. And this I flatter myself that I have already in some degree effected in the numerous works which I have written. In the treatise which I have entitled ” Hortensius,” I have earnestly recommended them to the study of philosophy; and in the four books of Academic Questions, I have laid open that species of philosophy which I think the least arrogant, and at the same time the most consistent and elegant.
Again, as the foundation of all philosophy is the knowledge of the chief good and evil which we should seek or shun, I have thoroughly discussed these topics in five books, in order to explain the different arguments and objections of the various schools in relation thereto(1). In five other books of Tusculan Questions, I have explained what most conduces to render life happy. In the first, I treat of the contempt of death; in the second, of the endurance of pain and sorrow; in the third, of mitigating melancholy; in the fourth, of the other perturbations of the mind; and in the fifth, I elaborate that most glorious of all philosophic doctrines— the all-sufficiency of virtue; and prove that virtue can secure our perpetual bliss without foreign appliances and assistances.
(1) He is here referring to the treatise De Finibus.
When these works were completed, I wrote three books on the Nature of the Gods. I have discussed all the different bearings and topics of that subject, and now I proceed in the composition of a treatise on Divination, in order to give that subject the amplest development. And if, when this is finished, I add another on Fate, I shall have abundantly examined the whole of that question.
To this catalogue of my writings, I must likewise add my six books on the Republic, which I composed when I was directing the government of the State. A grand subject, indeed, and peculiarly connected with philosophy, and one which has been richly elaborated by Plato, Aristotle, Theophrastus, and the whole tribe of the Peripatetics.
I must not forget to mention my Essay on Consolation, which afforded me myself no inconsiderable comfort, and will, I trust, be of some benefit to others. Besides this, I lately wrote a work on Old Age, which I addressed to Atticus; and since it is owing to philosophy that our friend Cato is the good and brave man that he is, he is well entitled to an honourable place in the list of my writings.
Moreover, as Aristotle and Theophrastus, two authors eminently distinguished both for the penetration and fertility of their genius, have united with their philosophy precepts likewise for eloquence, so I think that I too may class among my philosophical writings my treatise on the Oratorical Art. So there are three books on Oratory, a fourth Essay entitled Brutus, and a fifth named the Orator.
II. Such are the works I have already written, and I am girding myself up to what remains, with the desire (if I am not hindered by weightier business) of leaving no philosophical topic otherwise than fully explained and illustrated in the Latin language. For what greater or better service can we render to our country, than by thus educating and instructing the rising generation, especially in times like these, and in the present state of morality, when society has fallen into such disorders as to require every one to use his best exertions to check and restrain it?
Not that I expect to succeed (for that, indeed, cannot be even hoped) in winning all the young to the study of philosophy. I shall be glad to gain even a few, the fruits of whoso industry may have an extended effect on the republic.
Indeed, I already begin to gather some fruit of my labour, from those of more advanced years, who are pleased with my various books. By their eagerness for reading what I write, my ambition for writing is from day to day more vehemently excited. And indeed such individuals are far more numerous than I could have imagined. A magnificent thing it will be, and glorious indeed for the Romans, when they shall no longer find it necessary to resort to the Greeks for philosophical literature. And this desideratum I shall certainly effect for them, if I do but succeed in accomplishing my design.
To the undertaking of explaining philosophy I was originally prompted by disastrous circumstances of the state. For during the civil wars I could not defend the commonwealth by professional exertions; while at the same time I could not remain inactive. And yet I could not find anything worthy of myself for me to undertake. My fellow-citizens, therefore, will pardon me, or rather will thank me; because when Rome had become the property of one man, I neither concealed myself, nor deserted them, nor yielded to grief, nor conducted myself like a politician indignant at either an individual or the times,—nor played the part of a flatterer of, or courtier to, the power of another, so as to be ashamed of myself. For from Plato and philosophy I had learnt this lesson, that certain revolutions are natural to all republics, which alternately come under the power of monarchs, and democracies, and aristocracies.
And when this fate had befallen our own Commonwealth, then, being deprived of my customary employments, I applied myself anew to the study of philosophy, doing so both to alleviate my own sorrow for the calamities of the state, and also in the hope of serving my fellow-countrymen by my writings. And thus in my books I continued to plead and to harangue, and took the same care to advance the interests of philosophy as I had before to promote the cause of the Republic. Now, however, since I am again engaged in the affairs of government, I must devote my attention to the state, or I should rather say, all my labours and cares must be occupied about that; and I shall only be able to give to philosophy whatever little leisure I can steal from public business and public employments. Of these matters, however, I shall find a better occasion to speak; let me now return to the subject of divination. For when my brother Quintus had concluded his arguments on the subject of divination, contained in the preceding book, and we had walked enough to satisfy us, we sat down in my library, which, as I before noticed, is in my Lyceum.
III. Then I said,—Quintus, you have defended the doctrine of the Stoics, respecting divination, with great accuracy, and on the strictest Stoical principles. And what particularly pleased me was, that you supported your cause chiefly by authorities, and those, too, of great force and dignity, borrowed from our own countrymen. It is now my part to notice what you have advanced. But I shall do so without offering anything absolutely on one side or the other, examining all your arguments, often expressing doubts and distrusting myself. For if I assumed anything I could say on this subject as certain, I should play the part of a diviner even while denying divination.
I am, no doubt, greatly influenced by that preliminary question which Carneades used to raise,—namely, What is the subject matter of divination? Is it things perceived by the senses, or not? Such things we see, or hear, or taste, or smell, or touch. Is there, then, among such, anything which we perceive more by some foreseeing power, or agitation of the mind, than through nature herself? Or could a diviner, if he were blind as Tiresias, somehow or other distinguish between white and black ? or if he were deaf, could he distinguish between the articulations and modulations of voices? Divination, therefore, cannot be applied to those objects which come under the cognisance of the senses.
Nor is it of much use, even in matters of art and science. In medicine for instance, if a person is sick we do not call in the diviner or the conjuror, but the physician; and in music, if we wish to learn the flute or the harp, we do not take lessons from the soothsayer, but from the musician.
It is the same in literature, and in-all those sciences which are matters of education and discipline. Do you think that those who addict themselves to the art of divination can thereby inform us whether the sun is larger than the earth or of the same size as it appears, or whether the moon shines by her own light or by a radiance borrowed from the sun, or what are the laws of motion obeyed by these orbs, or by those other five stars which are termed the planets?
None of those who pass for diviners pretend to be able to instruct mankind in these matters, nor can they prove the truth or falsehood of the problems of geometry. Such matters belong to the mathematician, not to conjurors.
IV. And in those questions which are agitated in moral philosophy, is there any one with respect to which any diviner ever gives an answer, or is ever consulted as to what is good, bad, or indifferent? For such topics properly belong to philosophers. As to duties, who ever consulted a diviner how to regulate his behaviour to his parents, his brethren, or his friends? or in what light he should regard wealth, and honour, and authority? These things are referred to sages, not diviners.
Again, as to the subjects which belong to dialecticians, or natural philosophers. What diviner can tell whether there is one world or more than one? what are the principles of things, from which all things derive their being? That is the science of the natural philosopher. Or who asks a diviner how to solve the difficulty of a fallacy, or disentangle the perplexity of a sorites, which we may render by the Latin word acervalem (an accumulation), though it is unnecessary; for just as the word philosophy, and many other Grecian terms, have become naturalized in our language, so this word sorites is already sufficiently familiar among us. These subjects belong to the logician, not to the diviner.
Again, if the question be, which is the best form of government, what are the relative advantages or disadvantages of such and such laws and moral regulations, should we dream of advising with a soothsayer from Etruria, or with princes and chosen men experienced in political matters ?
Now, if divination regards neither those things which are perceived by the senses, nor those which are taught by art, nor those which are discussed by philosophy, nor those which affect the politics of the state, I scarcely understand what can be its object. -It must either bear upon all topics, or else some particular one must be allotted to it in which it may be exercised. Now common sense certifies us that it does not bear on all topics, and we are at a loss to discover what particular topic, or subject matter, it can embrace. It follows, therefore, that divination does not exist.
V. There is a common Greek proverb to this effect :—
The wisest prophet‘s he who guesses best.
Will, then, a soothsayer conjecture what sort of weather is coming better than a pilot? or will he divine the character of an illness more acutely than a doctor? or the proper way to carry on a war better than a general?
But I observe, O Quintus, that you have prudently distinguished the topics of divination from those matters which lie within the sphere of art and skill, and from those which are perceived by the observation of the senses, or by any system. You have defined it thus :—Divination is the presentiment and power of foretelling or predicting those things which are fortuitous. But, in the first place, you are only arguing in a circle. For does not a pilot, or a physician, or a general foresee the probabilities of things fortuitous as well as your diviner? Can, then, any augur whatsoever, or soothsayer, or diviner, conjecture better whether a patient will escape from sickness, or a ship from peril, or the army from the manoeuvres of the enemy, than a physician, or pilot, or general?
But you said that these matters did not belong to the diviner; but that men could foresee impending winds or showers by certain signs; and to confirm this argument, you have cited certain verses of my translation of Aratus. And yet these atmospheric phenomena are fortuitous; for they only happen occasionally, and not always. What, then, is this presentiment of things fortuitous, which you call divination, and to what can it be applied? For those things of which we can have a previous notion by some art or reason, you speak of as belonging not to diviners, but to men of skill in them. Thus you have left divination nothing but the power of predicting those fortuitous things which cannot be foreseen by any art or any prudence.
If, for example, any one had, many years before, predicted that Marcus Marcellus, who was thrice consul, was to perish by a shipwreck, he would, doubtless, have been a true diviner, because such a fact could not have been foreseen by any other means than that of divination. Divination, therefore, is a foreknowledge of events which depend on fortune.
VI. But can there be a just presentiment of those things which do not admit of any rational conjecture to explain why they will happen? For what do we mean when we say a thing happens by chance, or fortune, or hazard, or accident, but that something has happened or taken place which might never have happened or taken place at all, or which might have happened or taken place in a different manner? Now how can that be fairly foreseen or predicted which thus takesplace by chance, and the mere caprice of fortune?
It is by reason that the physician foresees that a malady will increase, a pilot that a tempest will descend, and a general that the enemy will make certain diversions. And yet these men, who have generally good reasons on which their opinions respecting relative probabilities are founded, are themselves often deceived. As when the husbandman sees his olive-trees in blossom, he ventures to expect that they will also bear fruit; nevertheless, he is sometimes mistaken.
Now, if those who never assert anything but from some probable conjecture founded on reason, are often mistaken, what are we to think of the conjectures of those men who derive their presages of futurity from the entrails of victims, or birds, or prodigies, or oracles, or dreams. I have not as yet come to show how utterly null and vain such signs are, as the cleft of a liver, the note of a crow, the flight of an eagle, the shooting of a star, the voices of people in frenzy, lots and dreams, of each of which I shall speak in its turn; at present I dwell only on the general argument. How can it be foreseen that anything will happen which has neither any assignable cause, or mark, to show why it will happen ?
The eclipses of the sun and moon are predicted for a series of many years before they happen, by those who make regular calculations of the courses and motions of the stars. They only foretell that which the invariable order of nature will necessarily bring about. For they perceive that in the undeviating course of the moon‘s motions, she will arrive at a given period at a point opposite the sun, and become so exactly under the shadow of the earth, which is the boundary of night, that she must be eclipsed. They likewise know, that when the same moon comes between the earth and the sun, the latter must appear eclipsed to the eyes of men. They know in what sign each of the wandering stars will be at a future period, and when each sign will rise and set on any specific day. So that you know on what principles those men proceed who predict these things.
VII. But what rational rule can guide those men who predict the discovery of a treasure, or the accession to an estate? And by what series of cause and effect are the approach of events of this kind indicated? If these events, and others of the same kind, happen by any kind of necessity, then what is there that we can suppose to be brought about by chance or fortune? For nothing is so opposite to regularity and reason as this same fortune; so that it seems to me that God himself cannot foreknow absolutely those things which are to happen by chance and fortune. For if he knows it, then it will certainly happen; and if it will certainly happen, there is no chance in the matter. But there is chance; therefore there is no such thing as a presentiment of the future.
If, however, you maintain that there is no such thing as fortune, and that all things which happen, and which are about to happen, are determined by fate from all eternity, then you must change your definition of divination, which you have termed the presentiment of things fortuitous. For if nothing can happen, or come to pass, or take place, unless it has been determined from all eternity that it shall happen at a certain time, what chance can there be in anything? And if there is no such thing as chance, what becomes of your definition of divination, which you have called ”a presentiment of fortuitous events?” although you said that everything which happened, or which was about to happen, depended on fate. Nevertheless, a great deal is said on this subject of fate by the Stoics. But of this elsewhere.
To return to the question at issue. If all things happen by fate, what is the use of divination?
VIII. For that which he who divines predicts, will truly come to pass; so that I do not know what character to affix to that circumstance of an eagle making our friend King Deiotaris renounce his journey; when, if he had not turned back, he would have slept in a chamber which fell down in the ensuing night, and have been crushed to death in the ruins. For if his death had been decreed by fate, he could not have avoided it by divination; and if it was not decreed by fate, he could not have experienced it.
What, then, is the use of divination, or what reason is there why I should be moved by lots, or entrails, or any kind of prediction? For if in the first Punic war it had been settled by fate, that one of the Roman fleets, commanded by the consuls Lucius Junius and Publius Clodius, should perish by a tempest, and that the other should be defeated by the Carthaginians, then even if the chickens had eaten ever so greedily, still the fleets must have been lost. But if the fleets would not have perished, if the auspices had been obeyed, then they were not destroyed by fate. But you say that everything is owing to fate; therefore there is no such thing as divination.
If fate had determined, that in the second Punic war the army of the Romans should be defeated near the lake Thrasimenus, then could this event have been avoided, even if Flaminius the consul had been obedient to those signs and those auspices which forbade him to engage in battle? Certainly it might. Either, then, the army did not perish by fate—for the fates cannot be changed,—or if it did perish by fate (as you are bound to assert), then, even if Flaminius had obeyed the auspices, he must still have been defeated.
Where, then, is the divination of the Stoics? which is of no use to us whatever to warn us to be more prudent, if all things happen by destiny. For do what we will, that which is fated to happen, must happen. On the other hand, whatever event may be averted is not fated. There is, therefore, no divination, since this appertains to things which are certain to happen; and nothing is certain to happen, which may by any means be frustrated.
IX. Moreover, I do not even think that the knowledge of futurity would be useful to us. How miserable would have been the life of King Priam if from his youth he could have foreseen the calamities which awaited his old age! Let us, however, leave alone fables, and come to facts that are more near to us. I have recounted, in my essay entitled ”Consolation,” the misfortunes which have happened to the greatest men of our commonwealth. Omitting, therefore, the ancients, do you think that it would have been any advantage to Marcus Crassus, when he was flourishing with the amplest riches and gifts of fortune, to have foreknown that he should behold his son Publius slain, his forces defeated, and lose his own life beyond the Euphrates with ignominy and disgrace ? Or do you think that Pompey would have experienced much sitisfaction in being thrice made consul, and having received three triumphs, and having attained the summit of glory by his heroic actions, if he could have foreseen that he should be assassinated in the deserts of Egypt after the defeat of his army, and that after his death those disasters should happen which we cannot mention without tears ?
What do we think of Caesar? Would it have been any pleasure to Caesar to have anticipated by divination, that one day, in the midst of the throng of senators whom he himself had elected, in the temple of Victory built by Pompey, and before that general‘s statue, and before the eyes of so many of his own centurions, he should be slain by the noblest citizens, some of whom were indebted to him for their dignities,—aye, slain under such circumstances that not one of his friends, or even of his servants, would venture to approach him? Could he have foreseen all this, in what wretchedness would he have passed his life?
It is, therefore, certainly more advantageous for man to be ignorant of future evils than to know them. For it cannot be said, at least not by the Stoics, that Pompey would not have taken up arms, nor Crassus passed the Euphrates, nor Caesar engaged in tho civil war, if they had foreseen the future; therefore the end which they met with was not inevitably ordained by fate. For you insist upon it that all things happen by fate, therefore divination would have availed them nothing. It would even have deprived them of all enjoyment in the earlier part of their lives; for what gratification could they have enjoyed if they had been always thinking of their end?
Therefore, to whatever argument the Stoics resort in defence of divination, their ingenuity is always baffled. For if that which is to happen may happen in different mode, then, indeed, fortune may have great power; but that which is fortuitous cannot be certain. If, on the other hand, every event is absolutely determined by fate, and the time and circumstance in connexion with which it is to take place, what service can diviners render us by informing us that very sad events are portended for us?
X. They add, moreover, that when we are duly attentive to religious ceremonies, all things will fall more lightly on us. But if everything happens by fate, no religious ceremonies can lighten the event. Homer acknowledges this, when he introduces Jupiter uttering complaints that he cannot save the life of his son Sarpedon against the order of fate; and the same sentiment is expressed in the Greek verse—
Great Destiny o‘ermaster‘s Jove himself. It appears to me that such a fate as this is justly ridiculed by the Atellane plays; but on such a serious subject we must not allow ourselves to be facetious.
I therefore conclude with this observation. If we cannot foresee anything which happens by chance, since that thing is necessarily uncertain, therefore there is no divination; and if, on the contrary, things that are to happen can be foreseen because they happen by an infallible fatality, there is no divination, because you say divination only relates to fortuitous events.
But what I have hitherto said respecting divination may be looked upon as a mere slight skirmishing of oratory. I must now enter on the contest in good earnest, and prepare to encounter the most formidable arguments of your cause.
XI, For you say that there exist two kinds of divination, —one artificial, the other natural. The artificial consists partly in conjecture, partly in continued observation.
The natural, on the other hand, is what the mind lays hold of or receives externally from the divinity, from which we all derive the origin, and fashioning, and preservation of our minds. Under the artificial divination you enumerate several varieties of divination connected with the inspection of entrails, the observation of thunderstorms and prodigies, and the auguries of those who deal in signs and omens. And Under this artificial class you include all kinds of conjectural divination.
As to the natural species of divination, it appears to be sent forth and to issue either from a certain ecstasy of the spirit, or to be conceived by the mind when disengaged from the senses and from cares by sleep. But you suppose that all divination is derived from three things—God, Fate, and Nature. But as you could give no sound explanation, you laboured to confirm it by a wonderful multitude of imaginary examples, concerning which you must permit me to say, that a philosopher ought not to use evidences which may be true through accident, or false and fictitious through malice. It behoves you to show, by reason and argument, why each circumstance happens as it does, rather than by the events, especially when they are such as I am quite unable to give credit to.
XII. To begin then with the soothsayers, whose science I believe that the interest of Religion and the State requires to be upheld. But as we are alone, it behoves us, and myself more especially, to examine the truth without partiality, since I am in doubt on many points.
Let us proceed, if you please, first to consider the inspection of the entrails of victims. Can you then persuade any man in his senses, that those events which are said to be signified by the entrails, are known by the augurs in consequence of a long series of observations? How long, I wonder! For what period of time can such observations have been continued? What conferences must the augurs hold among themselves to determine which part of the victim‘s entrails represents the enemy, and which the people; what sort of cleft in the liver denoted danger, and what sort presaged advantage? Have the augurs of the Etrurians, the Eleans, the Egyptians, and the Carthaginians arranged these matters with one another? But that, besides that it is quite impossible, cannot be imagined. For we see that some interpret the auspices in one way, and some in another, and no common rule of discipline is acknowledged among the professors of the art; and certainly if some secret virtue existed in the victim‘s entrails which clearly declared the future, it must either belong to the universal nature of things, or be connected in some way or other with the Deity himself. But what communication can there exist between so great and so divine a nature of things, one so beautiful, and so admirably diffused throughout every part and motion, and (I will not say) the gall of the cock, (though that, indeed, is said by many to be the most significant of all signs,) but the liver, or heart, or lungs of a fat bullock? Can such things possibly teach us the hidden mysteries of futurity?
XIII. Democritus, speaking as a natural philosopher, than which no class of men are more arrogant, on this subject, trifles ingeniously enough.
Man, who knows not the common facts of earth,
Must waste his time in star-gazing.
He remarks, that the colour and condition of the victim‘s entrails may indicate the nature of the pasturage, and the abundance or scarcity of those things which the earth brings forth. He even supposes they may guide our opinions respecting the wholesomeness or pestilential state of the atmosphere. O happy man! such a person can certainly never want amusement. The idea of any one being so enchanted with such trifling, as not to see that this theory might be plausible, if, indeed, the entrails of all animals assumed the same appearance and colour at one and the same time! But if we discover that the liver of one animal is sound and healthy, and that of another withered and diseased at the same moment, what indication can we draw from the state and colour of the entrails?
Does this at all resemble the indications from which that Pherecydes, in a case which you have cited, predicted the approach of an earthquake from the drying up of a spring ? It required a little confidence, I think, after the earthquake had taken place, to presume to say what power had produced it; [but] could they even foresee that it would take place at all from the appearance of a running spring? Many such stories are recounted in the schools, but we are not obliged to believe the whole of them. But even supposing that what Democritus says is true, when do we seek to know the general phenomena of nature by an examination of entrails; or when did soothsayers ever tell us anything of the sort from such an inspection? They warn us of danger from fire or water. Sometimes they predict that inheritances will be added to our fortunes, and sometimes that we shall lose what we already possess. They regard the cleft in the lungs as a matter of vital importance to our property and our very life; they investigate the top of the liver on all sides with the most scrupulous exactness, and if by any chance they cannot discover it, they affirm that nothing more disastrous could have happened.
XIV. It is impossible, as I have before observed, that such a system of observation can have any certainty about it; such divination as this flourished not among the ancients; it is the invention of mere art, if, indeed, there can be any art, properly so called, of things unknown. But what connexion has it with the nature of things? And even if it were united and joined therewith, so as to form one harmonious whole, which I see is the opinion of the natural philosophers, and especially of those who say that all things that exist are but one whole; still what correspondence can there be between the order of the universe and the discovery of a treasure? For if an increase of my wealth is indicated by the entrails of a victim, and this fact is a necessary link in the chain of nature, then it follows, in the first place, that we must suppose that the entrails themselves form other links; and secondly, that my private gain is connected with the nature of things. Are not the natural philosophers ashamed to say such things as these? For, although there may be some connexion in the nature of things, which I admit to be possible,—(for the Stoics have collected many cases which they think confirm the notion, as when they assert that the little livers of little mice increase in winter, and that dry pennyroyal flourishes in the coldest weather, and that the distended vesicles, in which the seeds of its berries are contained, then burst asunder; that the chords of a stringed instrument at times give notes different from their usual ones; that oysters and other shell-fish increase and decrease with the growth and waning of the moon; and that trees lose their vitality as the moon declines, just as they dry up in winter, and that this is the time to cut them. Why need I speak of the seas, and the tides of the ocean, the flow and ebb of which are said to be governed by the moon? and many other examples might be related to prove that some natural connexion subsists between objects apparently remote and incongruous.
XV. Let us grant this, for it does not in the least make against our argument;)—granting, I say, that there is a cleft of some kind in a liver, does that indicate gain to any one? By what natural affinity, by what harmony, by what secret accord of nature, or, to use the Greek term, by what sympathy can you discern a necessary relation between a cleft liver and my gain, or between my gain and heaven and earth, and the universal nature of things?
I may even grant you this, though I shall be greatly damaging my argument if I allow that there is any connexion between nature and entrails.
But suppose I make this concession, how does it happen that he who would obtain some benefit from the Gods can discover, just when he wishes, a victim exactly adapted to his purpose? I had thought this objection was unanswerable, but see how cleverly you get over it. I do not blame you for this, I rather commend your memory. But I am ashamed of Antipater, Chrysippus, and Posidonius, who all assert the same proposition—namely, that the divine and sentient energy which extends through the universe, directs us even in the choice of the victim by whose entrails we are to frame our divinations. And to improve upon this theory, you agree with them in asserting that at the very instant that the sacrifice is offered, a certain appropriate change takes place in the victim´s entrails, so that we can therein discover some significant addition or deficiency, since all things are obedient to the will of the Gods.
Believe me, there is not an old woman in the world so superstitious as gravely to believe these things. Can you imagine that the same bullock, if chosen by one man, will have the head of the liver, and if chosen by another will not have it? Can this same head come and go at the instant just to accommodate the individual who offers the sacrifice? Do you not perceive that there must be considerable chance in the choice of the victim? and in fact the thing speaks for itself, that this must be the case. For when one ill-omened victim is discovered to have had no head to its liver, it often happens that the one which is offered immediately afterwards has the most perfect entrails imaginable. What then becomes of the menaces of the first victim‘s entrails, or how have the Gods been so suddenly appeased?
XVI. But you will say, that in the entrails of the fat bull which Caesar offered, there was no heart, and since it was not possible that this animal could have lived without a heart, we must suppose that the heart was annihilated at the instant of immolation. How is it that you think it impossible that an animal can live without a heart, and yet do not think it impossible that its heart could vanish so suddenly, nobody knows whither? For myself, I know not how much vigour in a heart is necessary to carry on the vital function, and suspect that if afflicted by any disease, the heart of a victim may be found so withered, and wasted, and small, as to be quite unlike a heart. But on what argument can you build an opinion that the heart of this same fat bullock, if it existed in him before, disappeared at the instant of immolation? Did the bullock behold Caesar in a heartless condition even while arrayed in the purple, and thus lose its own heart by mere force of sympathy?
Believe me, you are betraying the city of philosophy while defending its castles. In trying to prove the truth of the auguries, you are overturning the whole system of physics. A victim has a heart, and head of the liver: the moment that you sprinkle him with meal and wine they depart, some God carries them off, some power destroys or consumes them. It is not nature alone, therefore, which causes the decay and, destruction of everything; and there are some things which arise out of nothing, and some which suddenly perish and become nothing. What natural philosopher ever said such a thing as this? The soothsayers affirm it. Do you then think that you are to believe them rather than the natural philosophers?
XVII. Again, when you sacrifice to several Gods at the same time, how is it that the sacrifice is favourably received by some, and is rejected by others? And what inconsistency must there be among the Gods, if they threaten by the first entrails, and promise good fortune by the second! Or is there such strong dissension among the Deities, even when they are nearly related to each other, that certain entrails bode good when offered to Apollo, and evil when offered to his sister Diana? It is clear that since the victims are brought by chance, the entrails must in the case of each sacrificer depend upon what victim falls to his share, and that very thing requires some divination to know what victim falls to each person‘s share, as, in the case of lots, what is drawn by each person.
Then you will speak of lots, though you are not strengthening the authority of sacrifices by comparing them to lots, but weakening that of lots by comparing them to sacrifices.
Do you think, when we send a messenger to Aequimelium to bring us a lamb to sacrifice, and the lamb which is brought to me possesses entrails peculiarly accommodated to the circumstances of the case, that the messenger has been guided to him not by chance, but by divine direction? For if you wish to signify that in this case chance interferes, as being some lot connected with the will of the Gods, I am sorry that your friends the Stoics should give the Epicureans such occasion to ridicule them, for you know well how they deride all such ideas.
And, indeed, it is no hard matter to be facetious on such an idea. Epicurus, in order to show his wit on the subject, introduced transparent airy deities, residing, as it were, between the two worlds as between two groves, that they may avoid destruction from the fall of either. These deities, it seems, possess bodies like ourselves, though I cannot find that they make any use of them.
Epicurus therefore, who, by a roundabout argument of this kind, takes away the Gods, naturally feels no hesitation in taking away divination also. But though he is consistent with himself, the Stoics are not; for as the God of Epicurus never troubles himself with any business, either regarding himself or others; he, therefore, cannot grant divination to men. On the other hand, the God of the Stoics, even though he does not grant divination, must still regulate the affairs of the universe and take care of mankind.
Why, then, do you involve yourself in these dilemmas which you can never disentangle? For this is the way in which, when they are in a hurry, they usually sum up the matter—“ If there are Gods, there must be divination; but there are gods, therefore there is divination.” It would be much more plausible to say—”There is no divination, therefore there are no Gods.” Observe how imprudently the Stoics make this assertion, that if there is no divination, there are no Gods; for divination is plainly discarded, and yet we must retain a belief in Gods.
XVIII. After having thus destroyed divination by the inspection of entrails, all the rest of the science of the soothsayers is at an end; for prodigies and lightning follow in the same category. With respect to the latter, their predictions are founded on a long series of observations, while the interpretation of prodigies proceeds chiefly on inference and conjecture.
What observations, then, have been made about lightning? The Etrurians, forsooth, have divided heaven into sixteen parts; for it was not very difficult to double the four quarters, which we recognise, into eight, and then to repeat the process, so as by that means to say from what direction the lightning had come. But in the first place, what difference does it make? Secondly, what does such a thing intimate?
Is it not plain from the astonishment which was at first excited in men’s minds, because they feared the thunder and the hurling of the thunderbolt, that they believed that they were the immediate manifestations brought about by the all-powerful ruler of all things, Jupiter? This is the reason of the enactment in the public registers, that the comitia of the people shall not be held when Jupiter thunders and lightens. It was enacted, perhaps with a view to the interest of the state, for our ancestors wished to have pretexts for not holding the comitia. Therefore, in the case of the comitia, lightning is the only vitiating irregularity. But in all other matters it is a most favourable auspice if it comes on the left hand. But we will speak of the auspices hereafter; at present we will confine ourselves to lightning.
XIX. What can be less proper for natural philosophers to say, than that anything certain is indicated by things which are uncertain? I cannot believe that you are one of those who imagine that there were Cyclopes in mount Aetna who forged Jove‘s thunderbolt, for it would be wonderful indeed if Jupiter should so often throw it away when he had but one. Nor would he warn men by his thunderbolts what they should do or what they should avoid.
For the opinion of the Stoics on this point is, that the exhalations of the earth which are cold, when they begin to flow abroad, become winds; and when they form themselves into clouds, and begin to divide and break up their fine particles by repeated and vehement gusts, then thunder and lightning ensue; and that when by the conflict of the clouds the heat is squeezed out so as to emit itself, then there is lightning. Can we, then, look for any intimation of futurity in a thing which we see brought about by the mere force of nature, without any regularity or any determined periods ?
If Jupiter wished that we should form divinations by lightnings, would he throw away so many flashes in vain? For what good does he do when he throws a thunderbolt into the middle of the sea, or upon lofty mountains, which is very common, or upon deserts, or in the countries of those nations among which no meteorological observations are made.
XX. Oh! but a head was discovered in the Tyber. As if I affirmed that those soothsayers had no skill! What I deny is only their divination. For the distribution of the firmament, which we have just mentioned, and their various observations, enable them to note the direction from which the lightning has proceeded, and where it falls. But no reason can inform us of its signification.
You will, however, urge against me my own verses—
The father of the Gods who reigns supreme
On high Olympus, smote his proper fane,
And hurl‘d his lightnings through the heart of Rome.
At the same time the statue of Natta and the images of the Gods, and Romulus and Remus, with that of the beast who was nursing them, were struck by the thunderbolt and thrown down; and the answers of the soothsayers, with reference to these prodigies, were found perfectly correct. That also was a surprising thing, that the statue of Jupiter was placed in the Capitol, two years later than it had been contracted for, at the very time that information of the conspiracy was being laid before the senate. Will you, then, (for this is the way you are used to argue with me,) bring yourself to uphold that side of the question in opposition to your own actions and writings?
You are my brother, and all you say is entitled to my respect. Yet what is there here that offends you? Is it the thing itself, which is of such and such a character, or I myself, who only wish to get at the truth? I therefore say nothing upon it for the sake of contradiction, and only seek from you yourself information respecting all the principles of the art of soothsaying.
But you have involved yourself in an inextricable dilemma; for foreseeing that you would be hard pressed, when I should urge you to explain the cause of every divination, you made many excuses to show why, when you were sure of the fact, you did not inquire into its principles and causes,—that the question was, what was done, and not why it was done; as if I granted that it was done at all, or as if it were not the duty of a philosopher to inquire into the reason why everything takes place. At the same time you quoted my prognostics, and spoke of the scammony, the aristoloch, and other herbs, whose virtues were evident to you from their effects, though the law of their operation was unknown to you.
XXI. All this is, however, beside the main question. For the Stoic Boethus, whose name you have cited, and even our friend Posidonius have investigated the causes of prognostics, and though it is not easy to discover the cause of such occult mysteries, yet the facts themselves may be observed and animadverted upon.
But as to the statue of Natta and the tables of the law which were struck by lightning, what observations were made, or what was there ancient connected with the matter ? The Pinarii Nattae are noble, therefore danger was to be feared from the nobility. This was a very cunning device of Jupiter! Romulus, represented by the sculptor as sucking a she-wolf, was likewise smitten by the lightning. Hence, according to, you, some danger to the city of Rome was threatened. How cleverly does Jupiter make us acquainted with future events, by such signs as these! Again, his statue was being erected at the very same time that the conspiracy was being discovered in the senate, and you conceive this coincidence happened rather by the providence of God than by any chance of fortune. And you think that the statuary, who had contracted for the making of that column with Torquatus and Cotta, was not so long delayed in accomplishing his work by idleness or poverty, but by the special interposition of the immortal Gods.
Now I do not absolutely deny that such might possibly be the case; but I do not know that it was, and wish to be instructed by you. For when some things appeared to me to have happened by chance in the way in which the soothsayers had predicted, you launched out into a long discourse on the doctrine of chances, saying that four dice thrown at hazard may produce Venus by accident, but that four hundred dice cannot produce a hundred Venuses. In the first place, I know no reason in the nature of things why they should not do even this; but I will not argue that point, for you have plenty of similar examples, and talk about a chance dashing ef colours, the snout of a pig, and many other similar instances. You say that Carneades argued in the samo way about the head of a little Pan; as if that might not have happened by chance, and as if there must not be in all marble the raw material of even such a head as Praxiteles would have made. For a perfect head is only formed by cutting away. Praxiteles adds nothing to the marble, but when much that was superfluous is removed, and the features are arrived at, then you learn that that which is now polished up was always contained within.
Such a figure, therefore, may have spontaneously existed in the quarries of Chios. But grant that this is a fiction, have you never fancied that you could discover in the clouds the figures of lions and centaurs? Accident may, therefore, sometimes imitate nature, though you denied that just now.
XXII. But as we have sufficiently discussed divination by entrails and lightning, we must now consider portents and prodigies, in order that we may leave no branch of the system of the soothsayers untouched.
You have mentioned a wonderful story of a mule that was delivered of a colt; a strange event, because of its extreme rarity. But if such a thing were impossible, it would never happen at all; and this may be said against all sorts of prodigies, that those things which are impossible never happened at all; and if they are possible, it need not surprise us that they happen occasionally.
Besides, in extraordinary events, ignorance of their causes produces astonishment; but in ordinary events such ignorance occasions no such result. The man who is astonished if a mule brings forth a colt, does not know how it is that a mare brings forth a foal, or indeed how, in any case, nature effects the birth of a living animal; but he is not surprised at what he sees frequently, even if he does not know why it happens; but if that which he never beheld before happens, then he calls it a prodigy. In this case, is it a prodigy when the mule conceives, or when she brings forth? Perhaps the conception may have been contrary to nature, but after that her delivery is almost necessary.
But we have spoken enough on this topic: let us examine the origin of the establishment of soothsayers. For when we are acquainted with it, we shall be better able to judge what degree of credit it is entitled to.
XXIII. They tell us that as a labourer one day was ploughing in a field in the territory of Tarquinium, and his ploughshare made a deeper furrow than usual, all of a sudden there sprung out of this same furrow a certain Tages, who, as it is recorded in the books of the Etrurians, possessed the visage of a child, but the prudence of a sage. When the labourer was surprised at seeing him, and in his astonishment made a great outcry, a number of people assembled round him, and before long all the Etrurians came together at the spot. Tages then discoursed in the presence of an immense crowd, who treasured up his words with the greatest care, and afterwards committed them to writing. The information they derived from this Tages was the foundation of the science of the soothsayers, and was subsequently improved by the accession of many new facts, all of which confirmed the same principles.
Here is the story that the Etrurians give out to the world. This record is preserved in their sacred books, and from it their augurial discipline is deduced.
Now do you imagine that we need a Carneades or Epicurus to refute such a fable as this? Lives there any one so absurd as to believe that this (shall I say god, or man?) was thus ploughed up out of the earth? If he was a god, why did he conceal himself under the earth against the order of nature, so as not to behold the light till he was ploughed up? Could not that same god have instructed mankind from a station somewhat more elevated? And if this Tages was a man, how could he have lived thus buried and smothered in the earth and how could he have learnt the wonders he taught to others?
But I am even more foolish than those who believe such nonsense, for thus wasting so much time in refuting them.
XXIV. There is an old saying of Cato, familiar enough to everybody, that ”he wondered that when one soothsayer met another, he could help laughing.” For of all the events predicted by them, how very few actually happen? And when one of them does take place, where is the proof that it does not take place by mere accident?
When Hannibal fled to king Prusias, and was eager to wage war with the enemy, that monarch replied that he dared not do so, because the entrails of the sacrifice wore an unfavourable aspect. ”Would you, then,” said Hannibal, ”rather trust a bit of calfs flesh than a veteran general?” And as to Caesar, when he was warned by the chief soothsayer not to venture into Africa before the winter, did he not cross? If he had not done so, all the forces of the enemy would have assembled in one place.
Why need I enumerate the responses of the soothsayers, of which I could cite an infinite number, which have either received no accomplishment at all, or an accomplishment exactly the reverse of the prediction? In this last Civil War, for instance—good Heavens! how often were their responses utterly falsified by the result! How many false prophecies were sent to us from Rome into Greece! How many oracles in favour of Pompey! For that general was not a little affected by entrails and prodigies. I have no wish to recount these things to you, nor indeed is it necessary, for you were present. But you see that nearly all the events took place in the manner exactly contrary to the predictions. So much for responses. Let us now say a word or two on prodigies.
XXV. You have mentioned several things on this topic which I wrote during my consulship. You have brought up many of those anecdotes collected by Sisenna before the Marsian War, and many recorded by Callisthenes before the unfortunate battle of the Spartans at Leuctra, of each of which I will speak separately, as far as seems necessary; but at present we must discuss of prodigies in general.
For what is the meaning of this kind of divination—this dreadful denouncing of impending calamities—derived from the Gods? In the first place, what is the object of the Gods, in giving us prodigies and signs which we cannot understand without interpreters, and in advertising us of disasters which we cannot avoid? But even honest men do not act thus, giving notice to their friends of impending misfortune which they cannot possibly avoid; and physicians, though they are often aware of the fact, yet never tell their patients that they must needs die of the complaint from which they are suffering. For the prediction of an evil is only beneficial when we can point out some means of avoiding it or mitigating it.
What good, then, did these prodigies, or their interpreters, do to the Spartans, or more recently to the Romans? If they are to be considered as the signs of the Gods, why were they so obscure? For if they were sent in order that we might understand what was about to happen, then it ought to have been declared intelligibly; and if we were not intended to know, then they should not have been given even obscurely.
XXVI. As for all conjectures on which this kind of divination depends, the opinions of men differ so much from each other that they often make very opposite deductions from the same thing. For as in legal suits, the plea of the plaintiff is contrary to that of the defendant, and yet both are within the limits of credibility,—so in all those affairs which only admit of conjectural interpretation, the reasoning must be extremely uncertain. And as for those things which are caused at times by nature, and at others by chance, (sometimes, too, likeness gives rise to mistakes,) it is very foolish to attribute all these things to the interpositions of the Gods, without examining their proximate causes.
You believe that the Boeotian diviners of Lebadia foreknew by the crowing of the cocks that the victory belonged to the Thebans, because these birds only crow when they are victorious, and hold their peace when they are beaten. Did, then, Jupiter give a signal to so important a city by the means of hens? But do cocks only crow when they are victorious? At that time they were crowing, and they had not conquered. You say that this was a prodigy. It would have been a prodigy, and a very great one, if the crowing had proceeded from fishes instead of birds. But what hour is there of day, or of night, when cocks do not crow? and if they are sometimes excited to crow by their joy in victory, they may likewise be excited to do the same by some other kind of joy.
Democritus, indeed, states a very good reason why cocks crow before the dawn; for, as the food is then driven out of their stomachs, and distributed over their whole body and digested, they utter a crowing, being satiated with rest. But in the silence of the night, says Ennius, ”they indulge their throats, which are hoarse with crowing, and give their wings repose.” As, then, this animal is so much inclined to crow of its own accord, what made it occur to Callisthenes to assert that the Gods had given the cocks a signal to crow; since either nature or chance might have done it ?
XXVII. It was announced to the senate that it had rained blood, that the river had become blackened with blood, and that the statues of the immortal gods were covered with sweat. Do you imagine that Thales or Anaxagoras, or any other natural philosopher, would have given credence to such news? Blood and sweat only proceed from the animal body; there might have been some discoloration caused by some contagion of earth very like blood, and some moisture may have fallen on the statues from without, resembling perspiration, as we see sometimes in plaster during the prevalence of a south wind; and in time of war such phenomena appear more numerous and more important than usual, as men are then in a state of alarm, while they are not noticed in peace. Besides, in such periods of fear and peril, such stories are more easily believed, and invented with more impunity.
We are, however, so silly and inconsiderate, that if mice, which are always at that work, happen to gnaw anything, we immediately regard it as a prodigy. So because, a little before the Marsian war, the mice gnawed the shields at Lanuvium, the soothsayers declared it to be a most important prodigy; as if it could make any difference whether mice, who day and night are gnawing something, had gnawed bucklers or sieves. For if we are to be guided by such things, I ought to tremble for the safety of the commonwealth, because the mice lately gnawed Plato‘s Republic in my library; and if they had eaten the book of Epicurus on Pleasure, I ought to have expected that corn would rise in the market.
XXVIII. Are we, then, alarmed if at any time any unnatural productions are reported as having proceeded from man or beast? One of which occurrences, to be brief, may be accounted for on one principle. Whatever is born, of whatever kind it may be, must have some cause in nature, so that even though it may be contrary to custom, it cannot possibly be contrary to nature. Investigate, if you can, the natural cause of every novel and extraordinary circumstance:— even if you cannot discover the cause, still you may feel sure that nothing can have taken place without a cause; and, by the principles of nature, drive away that terror which the novelty of the thing may have occasioned you. Then neither earthquakes, nor thunderstorms, nor showers of blood and stones, nor shooting stars, nor glancing torches will alarm you any more.
If you ask Chrysippus to explain the laws that govern these phenomena, though he is a great defender of divination, he will never tell you that they have happened by chance, but he will give you a natural explanation of all of them. For, as it has been before stated, nothing can happen without a cause, and nothing happens which is impossible; nor, if that has happened which could happen, ought it to be regarded as a prodigy. Therefore there are no such things as prodigies. For if we place in the rank of prodigies every rare occurrence, it follows that a wise man is one of the greatest prodigies. For I believe there are fewer instances of wise men in the world, than of mules which have brought forth young.
So this principle concludes that that which cannot take place in the nature of things never does take place; and that that which can take place in the nature of things, is not a prodigy, and therefore there are no prodigies at all. Therefore a diviner and interpreter of prodigies being consulted by a man who informed him, as a great prodigy, that he had discovered in his house a serpent coiled around a bar, answered very discreetly, that there was nothing very wonderful in this, but if he had found the bar coiled around the serpent, this would have been a prodigy indeed. By this reply, he plainly indicated that nothing can be a prodigy which is consistent with the nature of things.
XXIX. Gaius Gracchus wrote to Marcus Pomponius, that his father having caught two serpents in his house, sent to consult the soothsayers. Why were two serpents entitled to such an honour more than two lizards or two mice? Because these are every day occurrences, you would reply, while serpents were comparatively rare; as if it signified how often a thing which was possible took place. But I marvel, if the release of the female snake caused the death of Tiberius Gracchus, and that of the male was to be fatal to Cornelia, why he let either of them escape. For he does not record that the soothsayers had told him what would happen if he let neither of the snakes escape. But it seems T. Gracchus died soon after, doubtless of some natural malady which destroyed his constitution, and not because he had saved the life of a viper.
Not that the infelicity of the haruspices is so great that their predictions are never fulfilled by any chance whatever. And, I must confess, if I could but believe it, I should exceedingly wonder at the story which you have cited from Homer respecting the prediction of Calchas, who, from observing the number of a flock of sparrows, foretold the number of years that would be expended in the siege of Troy.
-Of which conjecture Homer makes Agamemnon(1) speak thus; if I may repeat you a translation of the passage which I made in a leisure hour :—
(1) This is a mistake of Cicero‘s. It is Ulysses who speaks. The passage occurs Iliad ii. 299—330.
XXX.
Not for their grief the Grecian host I blame;
But vanquish‘d! baffled! oh, eternal shame!
Expect the time to Troy‘s destruction giv‘n,
And try the faith of Calchas and of heav‘n.
What pass‘d at Aulis, Greece can witness bear,
And all who live to breathe this Phrygian air,
Beside a fountain‘s sacred brink was raised
Our verdant altars, and the victims blazed;
(‘Twas where the plane-tree spreads its shades around)
The altars heaved; and from the crumbling ground i
A mighty dragon shot, of dire portent;
From Jove himself the dreadful sign was sent.
Straight to the tree his sanguine spires he roll‘d,
And curl‘d around in many a winding fold.
The topmost branch a mother-bird possest;
Eight callow infants fill‘d the mossy nest;
Herself the ninth: the serpent as he hung,
Stretch‘d his black jaws, and crush‘d the crying young;
While hov‘ring near, with miserable moan,
The drooping mother Vail‘d Her children gone.
The mother last, as round the nest she flew,
Seized by the beating wing, the monster slew;
Nor long survived, to marble turn‘d he stands
A lasting prodigy on Aulis‘ sands.
Such was the will of Jove; and hence we dare
Trust in his omen and support the war.
For while around we gazad with wond‘ring eyes,
And trembling sought the Pow‘rs with sacrifice,
Full of his god, the rev‘rend Calchas cried:
Ye Grecian warriors, lay your fears aside,
This wondrous signal Jove himself displays,
Of long, long labours, but eternal praise.
As many birds as by the snake were slain,
So many years the toils of Greece remain;
But wait the tenth, for llion‘s fall decreed.
Thus spoke the prophet, thus the fates succeed.
Now is not this a curious mode of augury?—to conjecture by the number of sparrows eaten by a serpent, the number of years expended in the Trojan war. Why years rather than months or days? And how was it that Calchas selected sparrows, in which there is nothing supernatural, for the signs of his prophecy? while he is silent about the serpent, which was changed, as it is said, into stone (an event which is impossible). Lastly, what analogy or relation can subsist between the sparrows seen and the years predicted ?
As to what you have said respecting the serpent which appeared to Sylla while he was sacrificing, I recollect the whole circumstance; and remember that just as Sylla was about to attack the enemy at Nola, he made a sacrifice, and that at the moment the victim was offered, a serpent issued from beneath the altar, and that the same day a glorious victory was gained, —not owing to the advice of the soothsayers, but to the skill of the general.
XXXI. And prodigies of this kind have nothing miraculous in them; which, when they have taken place, are brought under conjecture by some particular interpretation, as in the case of the grain of wheat found in the mouth of Midas while an infant, or that of the bees, which are said to have settled on the lips of the infant Plato. Such things are less admirable for themselves than for the conjectures they gave rise to; for they may either not have taken place at the time specified, or have been fulfilled by mere accident.
I likewise suspect the truth of the report which you have related respecting Roscius—namely, that a serpent was found coiled round him when he was in his cradle. But even if it be a fact that a serpent was thus in the cradle, it is not very wonderful, especially in Solonium, where snakes are in the habit of basking before the fire. As to the interpretation which the soothsayers gave of the circumstance, that the child would become most illustrious and most celebrated, I am astonished that the immortal Gods should have announced such great glory to a comedian, and preserved such an obstinate silence respecting Scipio Africanus.
You have related several prodigies which happened to Flaminius; for instance, that his horse suddenly fell with him,—there is surely nothing very astonishing in that. Also, that the standard of the first centurion could not easily be pulled out of the earth. Perhaps the standard-bearer was pulling but timidly at the stick which he had fixed in the ground with confident resolution. What is the wonder in the horse of Dionysius having escaped out of the river, and in his afterwards having had a swarm of bees cluster on his mane? But because Dionysius happened to ascend the throne of Syracuse soon after this event, what had happened by chance was regarded as an extraordinary prodigy and prognostic.
You go on to say, that at Lacedamon, the armour in the temple of Hercules rattled. At Thebes the closed gates of the temple of the same God suddenly burst open of their own accord, and the bucklers which had been suspended on the walls fell to the ground. Certainly nothing of this kind could have happened without some motion or impulse; but why need we impute such motion to the Gods rather than call it an accident?
XXXII. At Delphi, you say, that a chaplet of wild herbs suddenly appeared growing on the head of Lysander‘s statue. Do you think then that the chaplet of herbs existed before any seed was ripened? These seeds were probably carried there by birds, not by human agency, and whatever is on a head may seem to resemble a crown. And as to the circumstance which you add, that about the same time the golden stars of Castor and Pollux, placed in the temple of Delphi, suddenly vanished, and could nowhere be discovered; this seems to me not so much the work of the Gods, as the sacrilege of thieves.
I certainly do wonder at the roguery of the Ape of Dodona being recorded in the Greek histories. For what is less strange than that a most mischievous animal should have upset the urn, and scattered the oracular lots? The historians, however, deny that this prodigy was followed by any disastrous event occurring among the Lacedaemonians.
Now to come to what you have reported respecting the citizen of Veii, who declared to the Senate that if the Lake Albanus overflowed, and ran into the sea, Rome would perish, and that if its course were diverted elsewhere, Veii must fall. Accordingly the water of the Alban lake was subsequently drained away by new channels, not for the safety of the citadel and the city, but solely for the benefit of the suburban district.
A short time afterwards, a voice was heard, warning certain individuals to beware lest Rome should be taken by the Gauls; and upon this they consecrated an altar on the New Road, to Aius the Speaker. What, then, did this Aius the Speaker speak and talk, and derive his name from that circumstance, when no one knew him; and has he been silent ever since he has had an habitation, an altar, and a name? And the same remark will apply to Juno the Admonitress; for what warning has she ever given us, except the one respecting the full sow (1)
XXXIII. This is enough to say about prodigies. Let me now speak of auspices and of lots—those, I mean, which are thrown at hazard, not those which are announced by vaticination, which we more properly call oracles, and which we shall discuss when we investigate divination of the natural order; and after this we will consider the astrology of the Chaldeans. But first let us consider the question of auspices. It is a very delicate matter for an augur to speak against them. Yes, to a Marsian perhaps, but not to a Roman. For we are not like those who attempt to predict the future by the flight of birds, and the observation of other signs; and yet I believe that Romulus, who founded our city by the auspices, considered the augural science of great utility in foreseeing matters. For antiquity was deceived in many things, which time, custom, and enlarged experience have corrected. And the custom of reverence for, and discipline and rights of, the augurs, and the authority of the college, are still retained for the sake of their influence on the minds of the common people.
And certainly the consuls P. Claudius and L. Junius deserved severe punishment, who set sail in defiance of the auspices; for they ought to have been obedient to the established religion, and not to have rejected so obstinately the national ceremonials. Justly, therefore, was one of them condemned by the judgment of the people, while the other perished by his own hand. Flaminius, likewise, was not duly submissive to the auspices; and that was the reason, you say, why he was defeated. But, the year afterwards, Paullus was guided
by them. Did he the less for that perish with his army in the battle of Cannae?
Even allowing the existence of auspices, which I do not, certainly those at present in use, whether by means of birds or celestial signs, are but mere semblances of auspices, and not real ones.
XXXIV. ”Quintus Fabius, I pray thee, assist me in the auspices.” He answers, ” I have heard.” The augurial officer among our forefathers was a skilful and learned man; now they take the first that offers. For a man must needs be skilful aud learned who understands the meaning of silence. For in auspices we call that silence which is free from all irregularity. To understand this, belongs to a perfect augur.
It sometimes happens, however, that when he who wishes to consult the auspices has said to the augur whom he has chosen to assist him, ” Say, if silence is observed,” the augur, without looking above or around him, answers immediately, ”Silence appears to be observed.” On this the consulter rejoins, ”Tell me whether the chickens are eating.” The augur replies, ” They are eating.” But when the consulter further demands, ”What kind of fowls are they, and whence do they come?” the augur answers, ” The chickens were brought in a cage by a person who is termed a poulterer.”
Such, then, are the illustrious birds whom we call, forsooth, the messengers of Jupiter; and whether they eat or not, what does it signify? Certainly nothing to the auspices. But since, if they eat at all, some portion of food must inevitably fall on the ground and strike (pavire) the earth, this was at first called terripavium, then terripudium, and is now called tripudium. When, therefore, the chicken lets fall from its beak a particle of its food, the augur declares that the tripudium solistimum is consummated.
XXXV. What true divination can there be in an auspice of this nature, so artificially forced and tortured? which, we have a proof, was not used among the most ancient augurs; for we have an ancient decree of the college of augurs, that any bird may make the tripudium. So that, then, there would be an auspice if the bird was free to show itself, and the bird might appear to be the messenger and interpreter of Jupiter. But when a miserable bird is kept in a cage, and ready to die of hunger,—if such an one, when pecking up its food, happens to let some particle fall, can you think this an auspice, or do you believe that Romulus consulted the gods in this manner?
Do you imagine that those who pretend to augury apply themselves at the present day to discern the signs of heaven? No; they give their orders to the poulterer. He makes his report .
It has been reckoned an excellent auspice on all occasions among the Romans, when it thunders on the left hand, except in reference to the Comitia; and this exception was doubtless contrived for the benefit of the commonwealth, in order that the chiefs of the state might be the interpreters of the Comitia in whatever concerns the judgments of the people, the rights of the laws, and the creation of the magistrates. ”But,” you argue, ”in consequence of the letters of Tiberius Gracchus, Scipio Nasica and Caius Martius Figulus resigned the consulship, because the augurs determined that they had been irregularly created.” Well, who denies that there is a school of Augurs? What I deny is, that there is any such thing as divination.
”But the soothsayers are diviners; and after Tiberius Gracchus had introduced them into the senate, on account of the sudden death of the individual whose office it was to report the order of the elections, they said that the Comitia had not been legally constituted.”
Now, in reference to this case, observe that they could not speak by authority of the summoner of the president of the centuries, for he was dead; and conjecture without divination could say that. Or perhaps what they said was no better than the result of chance, which prevails to a considerable extent in all affairs of this nature. For what could the soothsayers of Etruria know as to whether the tent they observed was as it should be, and whether the regulations of the pomoerium, or circumvallation were exactly obeyed.
For myself, I agree with the sentiments of Gaius Marcellus rather than with those of Appius Claudius, who were both of them my colleagues; and I think that, although the college and law of augurs were first instituted on account of the reverence entertained for divination in ancient times, they were afterwards maintained and preserved for the sake of the state.
XXXVI. Of this, however, more elsewhere. At present, let us examine the auguries of other nations who have evinced therein more superstition than art. They make use of all kinds of birds for their auspices; we confine ourselves to few: and one set of omens are reckoned unfavourable by them, and a different set by us.
King Deiotarus often asked me for an account of our discipline and system of divination, and I asked him for information about his. Good heavens! how different ware the two methods, in some instances, so much so as to be downright contradictory to one another. And he had recourse to augurs on all occasions; but how very seldom do we apply to them unless the auspices are required by the people!
Our ancestors were unwilling to wage any war without consulting the auspices. But how many years have elapsed since this ceremony has been neglected by our proconsuls and propraetors? They never take auspices; they do not pass over rivers by the encouragement of omens; nor do they wait for the intimation of the sacred chickens.
As to that divination which consists in observing the flight of birds from some elevated spot—once considered of so much consequence in military expeditions,—Marcus Marcellus, who was consul five times, as well as imperator and chief augur too, omitted it altogether. What is become, then, of divination by birds, which (as wars are carried on by people who take no care about any auspices) seems to be retained by the city magistrates, while it is renounced by our military commanders? So much did Marcellus despise auspices, that when he was proceeding on any enterprise, he was accustomed to travel in a closed litter, that he might not be liable to be hindered by them. And we augurs now-a-days act much in the same way, when, for fear of what is called a joint auspice, we order the sacrificial cattle to be separated from each other. Not that I commend conduct like this; for to make these contrivances, either that an auspice should not happen at all, or that if it happens it should not be seen,— what is it but an attempt to avoid the admonitions of Jupiter ?
XXXVII. It is ridiculous enough for you to assert that this king Deiotarus did not repent of having believed the auspices which he experienced when he went in search of Pompey, because he had, by doing his duty, thus secured the fidelity and friendship of the Romans; for that praise and glory were dearer to him than his kingdom and possessions. I dare say they were; but this has nothing to do with the auspices. Surely no crow could inform him that it was a piece of magnanimity to defend the liberty of the Roman people. It was he himself who felt spontaneously what he did feel; and birds can do no more than signify bare events, be they fortunate or disastrous.
Thus, I conceive that Deiotarus in this affair followed no other auspices than those of conscience, which taught him to prefer his duty to his interest. But if the birds showed him that the result would be prosperous, they certainly deceived him; for he fled from the battle, together with Pompey, and a grievous time it was for him. From this general he was compelled to separate—another affliction; and, to crown his troubles, he soon had Caesar quartered upon him, both as a guest and an enemy. What could be more painful than this? Lastly, Caesar, after having deprived him of the tetrarchy of the Trogmi, and bestowed it on a certain Pergamenian of his train,—after having likewise deprived him of Armenia, which had been granted him by the senate,—after having been entertained by him with most princely hospitality, left his entertainer the king wholly stripped of his possessions.
It is needless to add more. I will return to my original subject. If we seek to know events by those auspices which are sought from birds, it appears by this argument that no birds could truly have predicted prosperity to king Deiotarus. If we want to know our duty, that is not to be sought from augury, but from virtue.
XXXVIII. I say nothing, then, of the augural staff of Romulus, which you declare to have remained unconsumed by fire in the midst of a general conflagration; and pass over the razor of Attius Navius, which is reported to have cut through a whetstone. Such fables as these should not be admitted into philosophical discussions.
What a philosopher has to do is, first, to examine the nature of the augural science, to investigate its origin, and to pursue its history. But how pitiful is the nature of a science which pretends that the eccentric motions of birds are full of ominous import, and that all manner of things must be done, or left undone, as their flights and songs may indicate! How can their inclinations to the right or left determine the power of auspices? and how, when, and by whom were such absurd regulations as these invented ?
The Etrurian soothsayers hold as the author of their discipline a child whom a ploughshare suddenly dug up from a clod of the earth. Whom do we Romans look upon as the author of ours? Is it Attius Navius? But Romulus and Remus lived several years before him, and they were both augurs, as we are informed. Shall we call our system the invention of the Pisidians, the Cilicians, or the Phrygians? Shall we, by speaking thus, call men devoid of all civilization the authors of divination ?
XXXIX. ”But,” you say, ”all kings, people, and nations use auspices;” as if there was anything in the world so very common as error is, or as if you yourself, in judging, were guided by the opinion of the multitude.
How few, for instance, are there who deny that pleasure is a good: most people even think it the chief good. But is the Stoic frightened from his creed by their numbers? or does the multitude follow their authority in many things? What wonder is there, then, if in respect of auspices, and all kinds of divinations, weak spirits are affected by those popular superstitions, though they cannot overturn the truth ?
And what uniformity or settled agreement exists between augurs ? The poet Ennius, referring to our Roman augurs, says—
When on the left it thunders, all goes well. In Homer, on the contrary, Ajax,(1) making some complaint or other to Achilles about the ferocity of the Trojans, speaks in this manner—
For them the father of the Gods declares,
His omens on the right, his thunder theirs.
So that omens on the left appear fortunate to us, while the Greeks and barbarians prefer those on the right. Although I am not unaware that our Romans call prosperous signs sinistra, even if they are in fact dextra. But certainly our countrymen used the term sinistra, and foreigners the word dextra, because that usually appeared the best. How great, however, is this contrariety! Why need I stop to mention that they use different birds and different signs from ourselves? they take their observations in a different way, and give answers in a different way; and it is superfluous to admit that some of these modes are adopted through error, some through superstition, and that they often mislead.
(1) This is another piece of forgetfulness on the part of Cicero.—See Iliad, ix. 236. ,
XL. To this catalogue of superstitions you have not hesitated to add a number of omens and presages. For instance, you have quoted the words which Aemilia addressed to Paulus, that Perses had perished; which Paulus received as an omen of success. You quote likewise the speech that Cecilia made to her sister‘s daughter—” I yield my place to you.” Nor is this all: you cite the phrase, favete linguis (keep silence); and you extol the prerogative presage derived from the name of the person who takes precedence in the elections of the comitia. I call this being ingenious and eloquent against yourself; for how, if you attend to things like these, can your mind be free and calm enough to follow, not superstition, but reason, as your guide in action ? Is it not so ? If any one, while speaking on his own affairs, in the course of his common conversation, drops a word that may seem to you to bear on anything which you are thinking or doing, shall that circumstance inspire you with either fear or energy?
When Marcus Crassus was embarking his army at Brundusium, a certain itinerant vender of figs from Caunus cried out in the harbour, ”Will you buy any cauneas? ” Let us say, if you please, that this was an omen against Crassus‘s expedition; for that it was as much as to say, Cave ne eas (Beware how you go), and that if Crassus had obeyed the omen he would not have perished. But if we regard such omens as these, we shall have to take notice of sneezes, the breaking of a shoe-tie, or the tripping over a pebble in walking.
It now remains for us to speak of the lots, and the Chaldean astrologers, vaticinations, and dreams. And first let us speak of lots.;
XLI. What, now, is a lot? Much the same as the game of mora, or dice,(1) and other games of chance, in which luck and fortune are all in all, and reason and skill avail nothing. These games are full of trick and deceit, invented for the object of gain, superstition, or error.
(1) The Latin has quod talos jacere, quod tesserae,—tali being dice with four flat and two round sides, and tesserce dice with six flat sides.
But let us examine the imputed origin of the lots, as we did that of the system of the soothsayers.
We read in the records of the Praenestines, that Numerius Suffucius, a man of high reputation and rank, had often been commanded by dreams (which at last became very threatening) to cut a flint-stone in two, at a particular spot. Being extremely alarmed at the vision, he began to act in obedience to it, in spite of the derision of his fellow-citizens; and he had no sooner divided the stone, than he found therein certain lots, engraved in ancient characters on oak. The spot in which this discovery took place is now religiously guarded, being consecrated to the infant Jupiter, who is represented with Juno as sitting in the lap of Fortune, and sucking her breasts, and is most chastely worshipped by all mothers.
At the same time and place in which the Temple of Fortune is now situated, they report that honey flowed out of an olive. Upon this the augurs declared that the lots there instituted would be held in the highest honour; and, at their command, a chest was forthwith made out of this same olive tree, and therein those lots are kept by which the oracles of Fortune are still delivered. But how can there be the least degree of sure and certain information in lots like these, which, under Fortune‘s direction, are shuffled and drawn by the hands of a child? How were the lots conveyed to this particular spot, and who cut and carved the oak of which they are composed ?
”Oh,” say they, ”there is nothing which God cannot do.” I wish that he had made these Stoical sages a little less inclined to believe every idle tale, out of a superstitious and miserable solicitude.
The common sense of men in real life has happily succeeded in exploding this kind of divination. It is only the antiquity and beauty of the Temple of Fortune that any longer preserves the Praenestine lots from contempt even among the vulgar. For what magistrate, or man of any reputation, ever resorts to them now? And in all other places they are wholly disregarded; so that Clitomachus informs us, that with reference to this, Carneades was wont to say that he had never been so fortunate as when he saw Fortune at Praeneste. So we will say no more on this topic.
XLII. Let us now consider the prodigies of the Chaldeans. Eudoxus, who was a disciple of Plato, and, in the judgment of the greatest men, the first astronomer of his time, formed the opinion, and committed it to writing, that no credence should be given to the predictions of the Chaldeans in their calculation of a man‘s life from the day of his nativity. Panaetius, who is almost the only Stoic who rejects astrological prophecies, says that Archelaus and Cassander, the two principal astronomers of the age in which he himself lived, set no value on judicial astrology, though they were very celebrated for their learning in other parts of astronomy. Scylax of Halicarnassus, a great friend of Panaetius, and a first-rate astronomer, and chief magistrate of his own city, likewise rejected all the predictions of the Chaldeans.
But to proceed merely on reason, omitting for the present the testimony of these witnesses.
Those who put faith in the Chaldeans, and their calculations of nativities, and their various predictions, argue in this manner: they affirm that in that circle of constellations which the Greeks term the Zodiac there resides a certain energy, of such a character that each portion of its circumference influences and modifies the surrounding heavens according to what stars are in those and the neighbouring parts at each season; and that this energy is variously affected by those wandering stars which we call planets. But when they come into that portion of the circle in which is situated the rise of that star which appears anew, or into that which has anything in conjunction or harmony with it, they term it the true or quadrate aspect.
And moreover, as there happen at every season of the year several astronomical revolutions, owing to approximations and retirements of the stars which we see, which are affected by the power of the sun,—they think it not merely probable, but true, that according to the temperature of the atmosphere at the time must be the animation and formation of children from their mother‘s womb; and that their genius, disposition, temper, constitution, behaviour, fortune, and destiny through life depend upon that.
XLIII. What an incredible insanity is this! for every error does not deserve the mere name of folly. The Stoic Diogenes‘ grants, that the Chaldeans possess the power of foreseeing certain events; to the limit, that is, of predicting what a child‘s disposition and his particular talent and ability are likely to be. But he denies that the other things which they profess can possibly be known. For instance; two twins may resemble each other in appearance, and yet their lives and fortunes may be entirely dissimilar.
Procles and Eurysthenes, kings of the Lacedsemonians, were twin-brethren. But they did not live the same number of years; for Procles died a year before his brother, and much excelled him in the glory of his actions.
But I question whether even that portion of prophetic power which the worthy Diogenes concedes to the Chaldeans, by a sort of prevarication in argument, can be fairly ascribed to them. For, as according to them the birth of infants is regulated by the moon, and as the Chaldeans observe and take notice of the natal stars with which the moon happens to be in conjunction at the moment of a nativity, they are founding their judgment on the most fallacious evidence of their eyes, as to matters which they ought to behold by reason and intellect. For the science of Mathematics, with which they ought to be acquainted, should teach them the comparative proximity of the moon to the earth, and its relative remoteness from the planets Venus and Mercury, and especially from the sun, whose light it is supposed to borrow. And the other three intervals, those, namely, which separate the sun from Mars and from Jupiter and from Saturn, and the distance also between that and the heaven, which is the bound and limit of our universe, are infinite and immense. What influence, then, can such distant orbs transmit to the moon, or rather to the earth?
XLIV. Moreover, when these astrologers maintain, as they are bound to maintain, that all children that are born on the earth under the same planet and constellation, having the same signs of nativity, must experience the same destinies, they make an assertion which evinces the greatest ignorance of astronomy. For those circles which divide the heaven into hemispheres—circles which the Greeks call horizons, and the Latins finientes—perpetually vary according to the spot from which they are drawn; and, therefore, the risings and settings of the stars appear to take place at different seasons to different races of men.
If, then, the condition of the atmosphere is affected by the energy and virtue of the stars, sometimes in one way and sometimes in another, how can those children who are born at the same time in different climates be subject to the same starry influences in various quarters of the globe ? For instance, in the country which we Romans inhabit, the dogstar rises some days after the summer solstice, while among the Troglodytae, a people of Africa, it is said to rise before it. So that if I were to grant that the heavenly influences have an effect upon all the children who are born upon the earth, it would follow, that all who are born at the same time in different regions of the earth, must be born not with the same but with different inclinations according to the different conditions of climate; which, however, they by no means admit. For they persist in maintaining that all children who are born at the same period, have at their nativity the same astrological destinies allotted to them, whatever their native country may be.
XLV. But what folly is it to imagine, that while attending to the swift motions and revolutions of heaven, we should take no notice of the changes of the atmosphere immediately around us,—its weather, its winds, and rains—when weather differs so much even in places which are nearest to one another, that there is often one weather at Tusculum and another at Rome; as is especially remarked by sailors, who, after having doubled a cape, often find the greatest possible change in the wind.
When the calmness or disturbed state of the weather is so variable, is it the part of a man in his senses to say that these circumstances have no effect on the births of children happening at that moment, (as, indeed, they have not,) and yet to affirm, that that subtle and indefinable thing, which cannot be felt at all, and can scarcely be comprehended,—namely, the conjuncture which arises from the moon and other stars, does affect the birth of children?—What? is it a slight error, not to understand that by this system that energy of seminal principles which is of so much influence in begetting and procreating the child is utterly put out of sight ?—for who can help observing that the parents impress on their children, to a great extent, their own forms, manners, features, and gestures. Now this could hardly happen if it were not the power and nature of the parents which was the efficient cause, but the condition of the moon and the temperature of the heavens.
Why need I press the argument that those who are born at one and the same moment, are dissimilar in their nature, their lives, and their circumstances?
XLVI. Besides, is there any doubt that many persons, though they were born with great bodily defects, are nevertheless afterwards cured of them, and set right by the self-corrective power of their nature, or by the attention of their nurses, or the skill of their physicians? or that many children have been born so tongue-tied that they could not speak, and yet have been cured by the application of the knife? Many likewise by meditation or exercise have removed their natural infirmities. Thus Phalereus records that Demosthenes when young could not pronounce the letter R; but afterwards by constant practice he learnt to articulate it perfectly. Now, if such defects had been occasioned by the influence of the stars, nothing could have altered them.
Need I say more? Does not difference of situation make races of men different? It is easy enough to give a list of such instances; and to point out what differences exist between the Indians and Persians, the Aethiopians and Syrians, in respect both of their persons and characters, so as to present an incredible variety and dissimilarity. And this fact proves, that the climate influences the nativities of men far more than the aspect of the moon and stars. For though some pretend that the Chaldean astrologers have verified the nativities of children by calculations and experiments in the cases of all the children who have been born for 470,000 years, this is a mistake. For had they been in the habit of doing so, they would never have given up the practice. But, as it is, no author remains who knows of such a thing being done now, or ever having been done.
XLVII. You see that I am not using the arguments of Carneades, but those rather of Panaetius, the chief of the Stoics. But answer me now this question. Were all those persons who were slain in the battle of Cannae born under the same constellation, as they met with one and the same end? Again, have those men who are singular in their genius and courage, a separate, some peculiar star of their own too? For what moment is there in which a multitude of persons are not born? and yet no one has ever been like Homer.
And if the aspect of the stars and the state of the firmament influenced the birth of every being, it should, by parity of reasoning, influence inanimate substances; yet what can be more absurd than such an idea?
I grant, indeed, that Lucius Tarutius of Firma, my own personal friend, and a man particularly well acquainted with the Chaldean astrology, traced back the nativity of our own city, Rome, to those equinoctial days of the feast of Pales in which Romulus is reported to have begun its foundations, and asserted that the moon was at that period in Libra, and on this discovery, he hesitated not to pronounce the destinies of Rome.
Oh, the mighty power of delusion! Is even the birth-day of a city subject to the influence of the stars and moon? Granting even that the condition of the heavens, when he draws his first breath, may influence the life of a child, does it follow that it can have any effect on brick or cement, of which a city is composed?
Why need I say more? Such ideas as these are refuted every day. How many of these Chaldean prophecies do I remember being repeated to Pompey, Crassus, and to Caesar himself! according to which, not one of these heroes was to die except in old age, in domestic felicity, and perfect renown; so that I wonder that any living man can yet believe in these impostors, whose predictions they see falsified daily by facts and results.
XLVIII. It only remains for us now to examine those two sorts of divination which you term natural, as distinguished from artificial—namely, vaticinations and dreams. With your permission, brother Quintus, we will now treat of these.
I shall be very well pleased to hear you, (answered Quintus,) for I entirely agree with all you have hitherto advanced, and, to tell you the truth, although I have had my feelings on the subject strengthened by your arguments, yet of my own accord I looked upon the opinion of the Stoics respecting divination as rather too superstitious, and was more inclined to favour the arguments which have been adduced by the Peripatetics, and the ancient Dicsearchus, and Cratippus, who now flourishes, who all maintain that there exists in the minds of men a certain oracular and prophetic power of presentiment, whereby they anticipate future events, whether they are inspired with a divine ecstasy, or are as it were disengaged from the body, and act freely and easily during sleep. I wish therefore to know what is your opinion respecting these vaticinations and dreams, and by what ingenious devices you mean to invalidate them.
When Quintus had thus spoken, I proceeded again to speak, starting afresh, as it were, from a new beginning.
I am very well aware, brother Quintus, I replied, that you have always entertained doubts respecting the other kinds of divination; but that you are very favourable to the two natural kinds—namely, ecstasy and dreams, which appear to proceed from the mind when at liberty.
XLIX. I will therefore tell you my idea very candidly respecting these two species of divination, after I have examined a little the sentiment of the Stoics, and especially of our friend Cratippus, on this subject. For you said that Cratippus, Diogenes, and Antipater summed up the question in this manner:—” If there are Gods, and they do not inform men beforehand respecting future events, either they do not love men, or do not know what is going to happen; or they think that the knowledge of the future would be of no service to mankind; or they believe it inconsistent with the majesty of Gods to reveal to men the things that must come to pass; or, lastly, we must believe that even the Gods themselves are incapable of declaring them. But we cannot say that the Gods do not love man, for they are essentially benevolent and philanthropic. And they cannot be ignorant of those things, which they themselves have appointed and designed: neither can it be uninteresting or unimportant to us to know what must happen to us, for we should be more prudent if we did know. Nor can the Gods think it inconsistent with their dignity to advertise men of future events, for nothing can be more sublime than doing good. Nor are they unable to perceive the future beforehand. If, therefore, there are no Gods, they do not declare the future to us; but there are Gods, therefore they do declare. And if the Gods declare future events to us, they must have furnished us with means whereby we may apprehend them, otherwise they would declare them in vain; and if they have given us the means of apprehending divination, then there is a divination for us to apprehend—therefore there is a divination.”
O acutest of men, in what concise terms do they think that they have settled the question for ever! They assume premises to draw their conclusion from, not one of which is granted to them. But the only conclusion of an argument which can be approved, is one in which the point doubted of is established by facts which are not doubtful.
L. Do you not see how Epicurus, whom the Stoics forsooth term a blunderer, reasons in order to prove that the universe is infinite in the very nature of things? That which is finite, says he, has an end. Every one will concede this. Whatever has an end, may be seen externally from something else. This also may be granted him. Now that which includes all, cannot be discerned externally from anything else. This proposition likewise appears undeniable. Therefore that which includes all, having no end, is necessaiily infinite. Thus by the proposition which we are compelled to admit, he clearly proves the point in question.
Now this is just what you dialecticians have not yet done in favour of divination; and you not only bring forward no proposition as your premises, so self-evident as to be universally admitted; but you assume such premises as, even if they be granted, your desired conclusion would be as far as ever from following. For instance, your first proposition is this: If there are Gods they must needs be benevolent. Who will grant you this? Will Epicurus, who asserts that the Gods do not care about any business of their own or of others? or will our own countryman Ennius, who was applauded by all the Romans, when he said—
I‘ve always argued that the Gods exist,
But that they care for mortals I deny;
and then gives reasons for his opinion; but it is not necessary to quote him further. I have said enough to show that your friends assume as certain, propositions which are matters of doubt and controversy.
LI. The next proposition is this, That the Gods must needs know all things, because they have made all things. But how great a dispute is there as to this fact among the most learned men, several of whom deny that all things were created by the immortal Gods!
Again, they assert, that it is the interest of man to know those things which are about to come to pass. But Dicaearchus has written a great book to prove that ignorance of futurity is better than knowledge of futurity.
They deny that it is inconsistent with the majesty of the Gods to look into every man‘s house, forsooth, so as to see what is expedient for each individual. Nor is it possible, say they, for them to be ignorant of the future. This is denied by those who will not allow that what is future can be certain. Do not you see, therefore, that they have assumed as certain and admitted axioms, things which are doubtful ?
After which, they twist the argument about and sum it up thus: ”Therefore, there are no Gods; and they do not grant men intimations of the future.” And, having settled the question thus, to their own satisfaction, they add, ”But there are Gods;” a fact which is not admitted by all men; ”therefore, they do grant intimations.” Even that consequence I cannot see; for they may grant no intimations of the future and yet exist as Gods.
Again, it is asserted; If the Gods grant intimations to men respecting future events, they must grant some means of explaining these intimations. But surely the contrary may be the case; for the Gods may keep to themselves the meaning of the signs which they impart to men; for else, why should they teach it to the Etrurians rather than to the Romans?
Again, they argue, that if the Gods have given men the means of understanding the signs they impart, then the existence of divination is manifest. But grant that the Gods do give such means, what does it avail, if we happen to be incapable of receiving them?
Last of all, their conclusion is; Therefore, there certainly is such a thing as divination. It may be their conclusion, but it is not proved; for, as they themselves have taught us, ”false premises cannot produce a true result.” Therefore, the whole conclusion falls to the ground.
LII. Let us now consider the arguments of that most excellent man, our friend Cratippus. As, says he, the use and function of sight cannot exist without the eyes—and yet the eyes do not always perform their office,—and, as he who has once enjoyed correct sight, so as to see what truly exists, is conscious of the reality of vision;—so, if the practice of divination cannot exist without the power of divination—and though in the exercise of this power of divination some errors may occur, and the diviner may be misled so as not to foresee the truth; yet the existence of divination is sufficiently attested by the fact that some true divinations have been made, containing such exact predictions of all the particulars of future events, that they can never have been made by chance, —of which numerous instances might be cited. The existence of divination must therefore be admitted.
The argument is neatly and concisely stated. But Cratippus twice assumes what he wishes to prove; and even if we were willing to grant him very large concessions, we could not possibly agree with his conclusions.
His argument is this: Though the eyes should sometimes possess very imperfect sight, yet, provided they sometimes see clearly, it is evident that the power of vision is in them. On the same principle, if any one has ever once uttered a true divination, he must always be considered as possessing the faculty of divining, even when he blunders.
LIII. Now I entreat you, my dear Cratippus, to consider how little is the resemblance between these two cases. To me there is none at all. The eyes which see clearly exert no more than their natural faculty of sight. But minds, if they have sometimes truly foreseen future events, either in ecstasies or dreams, have done so by fortune and accident; unless, indeed, you imagine those who believe that dreams are but dreams, will grant you that when they happen to dream anything that is true, it is no longer the effect of chance.
But we may concede for the present these two assumptions of Cratippus, which the Greek dialecticians would call lemmata. But we prefer speaking in Latin; still the presumption, which they term prolepsis, cannot be granted.
Cratippus goes on assuming premises in this manner : There are, says he, presentiments innumerable which are not fortuitous. Now this we absolutely deny. See how great is the magnitude of the difference between us. Not being able to agree with his premises, I assert that he has drawn no conclusion. Oh, but perhaps it is very impudent of us not to concede a point which is so clear! But what is clear? ”Why,” he replies, ”that many predictions are fulfilled.”‘ Yes; but are there not many more which are not fulfilled? Does not this very variation, which is the peculiar property of fortune, teach us that fortune, not nature, regulates suth predictions?
Moreover, if your conclusion is true, O renowned Cratippus !—for to you I address myself—do not you perceive that the soothsayers, and those who predict by thunder and lightning, and the interpreters of prodigies, and the augurs, and the Chaldean astrologers, and those who tell fortunes by drawing lots, will all bring forward the same argument as yourself in their own favour? Not one of these men has been so unfortunate as never on any occasion to find his predictions verified. This being the case, you must either admit all the other kinds of divination which you now most properly reject; or, if you absolutely condemn them, I do not see how you will be able to defend those two which you retain as favourable exceptions. For on the same principle that you maintain these, the others also may be true which you discard.
LIV. But what authority has this same ecstasy, which you choose to call divine, that enables the madman to foresee things inscrutable to the sage, and which invests with divine senses a man who has lost all his human ones?
”We Romans preserve with solicitude the verses which the Sibyl is reported to have uttered when in an ecstasy,—the interpreter of which is by common report believed to have recently uttered certain falsities in the senate, to the effect that he whom we did really treat as king should also be called king, if we would be safe. If such a prediction is indeed contained in the books of the Sibyl, to what particular person or period does it refer? For, whoever was the author of these Sibylline oracles, they are very ingeniously composed; since, as all specific definition of person and period is omitted, they in some way or other appear to predict everything that happens. Besides this, the Sibylline oracles are involved in such profound obscurity, that the same verses might seem at different times to refer to different subjects.
It is evident, however, that they are not a song composed by any one in a prophetic ecstasy, as the poem itself evinces, being far less remarkable for enthusiasm and inspiration than for technicality and labour; and as is especially proved by that arrangement which the Greeks call acrostics—where, from the first letter of each verse in order, words are formed which express some particular meaning; as is the case with some of Ennius‘s verses, the initial letters of which make, ”Which Ennius wrote.” But such verses indicate rather attention than ecstasy in those who write them.
Now, in the verses of the Sibyl, the whole of the paragraph on each subject is contained in the initial letters of every verse of that same paragraph. This is evidently the artifice of a practised writer, not of one in a frenzy; and rather of a diligent mind than of an insane one. Therefore, let us consider the Sibyl as so distinct and isolated a character, that, according to the ordinance of our ancestors, the Sibylline books shall not even be read except by decree of the senate, and be used rather for the putting down than the taking up of religious fancies. And let us so arrange matters with the priests under whose custody they remain, that they may prophesy anything rather than a king from these mysterious volumes; for neither Gods nor men any longer tolerate the notion of restoring kingly government at Rome.
LV. But many people, you say, have in repeated instances uttered true predictions; as, for example, Cassandra, when she said, ”Already is the fleet,”(1) &c.; and in a subsequent prophecy, ”Ah! see you not ?” &c. Do you then expect me to give credence to these fables? I will grant that they are as delightful as you please to call them,—that they are polished up with every conceivable beauty of language, sentiment, music, and rhythm. But we are not bound to invest fictions of this kind with any authority, or to give them any belief.
And, on the same principle, I do not think any one bound to pay any attention to such diviners as Publicius (whoever he may be), or Martius(2), or to the secret oracles of Apollo; of which some are notoriously false, and others uttered at random, so that they command little respect, I will not say from learned men, but even from any person of plain common sense.
(1)See book 1. chap. 31. (2) See book 1. chap. 50.
”What!” you will say, ” did not that old sailor of the fleet of Coponius predict truly the events which took place ?” No doubt he did; but they happened to be those very things which at the time everybody thought most likely to ensue. For we were daily hearing that the two armies were situated near each other in Thessaly; and it appeared to us that Caesar‘s army had the greater audacity, inasmuch as it was waging war against its own country, and the greater strength, being composed of veteran soldiers. And as to the battle, there was not one of us who did not dread the result, though, as brave men should, we kept our anxiety to ourselves, and expressed no alarm.
What wonder, however, was it that this Greek sailor was forced from all self-possession and constancy, as is very common, by the greatness of his terror and affright; and that, being driven to distraction by his own cowardice, he uttered those convictions when raving mad which he had cherished when yet sane? Which, in the name of Gods and men, is most likely; that a mad sailor should have attained to a knowledge of the counsels of the immortal Gods, or that some one of us who were on the spot at the time—myself, for instance, or Cato, or Varro, or Coponius himself—could have done so?
LVI. I now come to you,
Apollo, monarch of the sacred centre
Of the great world, full of thy inspiration,
The Pythian priestesses proclaim thy prophecies.
For Chrysippus has filled an entire volume with your oracles, many of which, as I said before, I consider utterly false, and many others only true by accident, as often happens in any common conversation. Others, again, are so obscure and involved, that their very interpreters have need of other interpreters; and the decisions of one lot have to be referred to other lots. Another portion of them are so ambiguous, that they require to be analysed by the logic of dialecticians. Thus, when Fortune uttered the following oracle respecting Croesus, the richest king of Asia,—
”When Croesus has the Halys cross‘d,
A mighty kingdom will be lost ;”
that monarch expected he should ruin the power of his enemies; but the empire that he ruined was his own. And whichever result had ensued the oracle would have been true. But, in truth, what reason have I to believe that such an oracle was ever uttered respecting Croesus? or why should I think Herodotus more veracious than Ennuis? Is the one less full of fictions respecting Croesus than the other is respecting Pyrrhus? For who now believes that the following answer was given to Pyrrhus by the oracle of Apollo?—
”You ask your fate; O king, I answer you,
Aeacides the Romans will subdue!”
For, in the first place, Apollo never uttered an oracle in Latin; secondly, this oracle is altogether unknown to the Greeks. Besides, in the days of Pyrrhus, Apollo had already left off composing verses. Lastly, although it was always the case, as is said in these lines of Ennius,—
”The Aeacids were but a stupid race,
More warlike than sagacious,”—
yet even Pyrrhus might without much difficulty have per-
ceived the ambiguity of the phrase,
”Aeacides the Romans will subdue;” and might have seen that it did not apply more to himself than it did to the Romans.
As to that ambiguity which deceived Croesus, it might even have deceived Chrysippus. This one could not have deluded even Epicurus.
LVII. But the chief argument is, why are the Delphic oracles altered in such a way that—I do not mean only lately in our own time, but for a long time—nothing can have been more contemptible?
When we press our antagonists for a reason for this, they say that the peculiar virtue of the spot from which those exhalations of the earth arose, under the influence and excitement of which the Pythian priestess uttered her oracles, has disappeared by the lapse of time. You might suppose they were speaking of wine or salt, which do lose their flavour by lapse of time; but they are talking thus of the virtue of a place, and that not merely a natural, but a divine virtue; and now is that to have disappeared? By reason of age, is your reply. But what age can possibly destroy a divine virtue? and what virtue can be so divine as an exhalation of the earth which has the power of inspiring the mind, and rendering it so prophetic of things to come, that it can not only discern them long before they happen, but even declare them in verse and rhythm ? And when did this magical virtue disappear? Was it not precisely at the time when men began to be less credulous?
Demosthenes, who lived nearly three hundred years ago, said that even in his time the Pythia Philippized—that is to say, supported Philip‘s influence; and his expression was meant to convey the imputation that she had been bribed by Philip. From which we may infer that other oracles besides those of Delphi were not quite immaculate. Somehow or other, certain philosophers who are very superstitious—not to say fanatical—appear to prefer anything to behaving with common sense themselves; and so you prefer asserting that that has vanished, and become extinct, which, if it ever had existed, must certainly have been eternal, rather than not believe what is wholly incredible.
LVIII. The error with regard to the divination of dreams is another of the same kind; their arguments for which are extremly far-fetched and obscure. They affirm that the minds of men are divine, that they came from God, and that the universe is full of these consenting intelligences. That, therefore, by this inherent divinity of the mind, and by its conjunction with other spirits, it may foresee future events. But Zeno and the Stoics supposed the mind to contract, to subside, to yield, and even to sleep, itself. And Pythagoras and Plato, authors of the greatest weight, advise men, with a view of seeing things more certainly in sleep, to go to bed after having gone through a certain preparatory course of food and other conduct. Pythagoras, for this reason, counselled his disciples to abstain from beans; with the idea that this species of food excited the mind, not the stomach. In short, somehow or other, I know nothing is so absurd as not to have found an advocate in one of the philosophers.
Do we then think that the minds of men during sleep move by an intrinsic internal energy, or that, as Democritus pretends, they are affected with external and adventitious visions? On either supposition we may mistake during our dreams many false things for true.
For to people sailing, those things appear to be in motion which are stationary, and by a certain ocular deception, the light of a candle sometimes seems double. Why need I instance the number of false appearances which are presented to the eyes of men, among those who labour under drunkenness, or maniacs?
Now, if we cannot trust such appearances as those, I know not why we are to place any absolute reliance on the visions of dreams; for you might as well, if you pleased, argue from these errors as from dreams. For instance, that if stationary objects appear to move, you might say that this appearance indicated the approach of an earthquake, or some sudden flight; and that lights seen double presage wars, and discords, and seditions.
LIX. From the visions of drunkards and madmen one might, doubtless, deduce innumerable consequences by conjecture, which might seem to be presages of future events. For what person who aims at a mark all day long will not sometimes hit it? We sleep every night; and there are very few on which we do not dream; can we wonder then that what we dream sometimes comes to pass?
What is so uncertain as the cast of dice? and yet no one plays dice often without at times casting the point of Venus, and sometimes even twice or thrice in succession. Shall we, then, be so absurd as to attribute such an event to the impulse of Venus, rather than to the doctrine of chances? If then, on ordinary occasions, we are not bound to give credit to false appearances, I do not see why sleep should enjoy this special privilege, that its false seemings should be honoured as true realities.
If it were an institution of nature that men when they sleep really did the things which they dream about, it would be necessary to bind all persons going to bed both hand and foot, for they would otherwise while dreaming perpetrate more outrages than maniacs. Now since we place no confidence in the visions of madmen, simply because they are delusions, I do not see why we should rely on those of dreamers, which are often the wilder of the two. Is it because madmen do not think it worth while to relate their visions to diviners, but those who dream do?
Once more I put this question. If I feel inclined to read or write anything, or to sing or play on an instrument, or to pursue the sciences of geometry, physics, or dialectics, am I to wait for information in these sciences from a dream, or shall I have recourse to study, without which none of those things can be either done or explained? Again, if I were to wish to take a voyage, I should never regulate my steering by my dreams. For such conduct would bring its own immediate punishment.
How, then, can it be reasonable for an invalid to apply for relief to an interpreter of dreams rather than to a physician? Can Aesculapius or Serapis, by a dream, best prescribe to us the way to obtain a cure for weak health? And cannot Neptune do the same for a pilot in his art? Or will Minerva give us medicine without troubling the doctor? And still will the Muses refuse to impart to dreamers the art of writing, reading, and the other sciences? But if the blessing of health were conveyed to us in dreams, these other good things would certainly be so too. But unfortunately the science of medicine cannot be learnt in dreams, and the other arts are in a similar predicament. And if that be the case, then all the authority of dreams is at an end.
LX. But this is only a superficial argument. Let us now penetrate the heart of this question.
For either some divine energy which takes care of us, gives us presentiments in our dreams ; or those who explain them do, by a certain harmony and conjunction of nature which they call συμπαθεια (sympathy), understand by means of dreams what is suitable for everything, and what is the consequence of everything; or, lastly, neither of these things is true; but there is a constant system of observation of long standing, by which it had been remarked that after certain dreams certain events usually follow.
The first thing then for us to understand is, that there is no divine energy which inspires dreams; and this being granted, you must also grant that no visions of dreamers proceed from the agency of the Gods. For the Gods have for our own sake given us intellect sufficiently to provide for our future welfare.
How few people then attend to dreams, or understand them, or remember them! How many, on the other hand, despise them, and think any superstitious observation of them a sign of a weak and imbecile mind! Why then should God take the trouble to consult the interest of this man, or to warn that one by dreams, when he knows that they not only do not think them worth attending to, but they do not even condescend to remember them. For a God cannot be ignorant of the sentiments of every man, and it is unworthy of a God to do anything in vain, or without a cause; nay, that would be unworthy of even a wise man. If, therefore, dreams are for the most part disregarded, or despised, either God is ignorant of that being the fact, or employs the intimation by dreams in vain. Neither of these suppositions can properly apply to God, and therefore it must be confessed that God gives men no intimations by means of dreams.;
LXI. Again, let me ask you, if God gives us visions of a prophetic nature, in order to apprise us of future events, should we not rather expect them when we are awake than when we are asleep? For, whether it be some external and adventitious impulse which affects the minds of those who are asleep, or whether those minds are affected voluntarily by their own agency, or whether there is any other cause why we seem to see and hear or do anything during sleep, the same impulses might surely operate on them when awake. And if for our sakes the Gods effect this during sleep, they might do it for us while awake.
Especially as Chrysippus, wishing to refute the Academicians, makes this remark—That those inspirations, visions, and presentiments whieh occur to us awake, are much more distinct and certain than those which present themselves to dreamers. It would, therefore, have been more worthy of the divine beneficence while exerting its care for us, rather to favour us with clear visions when we are awake, than with the perplexed phantasms of dreams; and since that is not done, we must believe that these phantasms are not divine at all. Moreover, what is the use of such round-about and circuitous proceedings, as for it to be necessary to employ interpreters of dreams, rather than to proceed by a straightforward course? If God were indeed anxious for our interests, he would say, ”Do this—do not that;” and he would give such intimations to a waking rather than to a sleeping man; but as it is, who would venture to assert that all dreams are true? Ennius says, that some dreams are prophetical; he adds also, that it does not follow that all are so.
LXII. Now whence arises this distinction between true dreams and false ones? and if true dreams come from God, from whence come the false ones? For if these last do likewise come from God, what can be more inconsistent than God? And what can be more ignorant conduct than to excite the minds of mortals by false and deceitful visions? But if only true dreams come from God, and the false and groundless ones are merely human delusions, what authority have you for making such a distinction as is implied in saying, God did this, and nature that? Why not rather say either that all dreams come from God (which you deny), or all from nature? which necessarily follows, since you deny that they proceed from God.
By nature I mean that essential activity of the mind owing to which it never stands still and is never free from some agitation or motion or other. When in consequence of the weakness of the body it loses the use of both the limbs and the senses, it is still affected by various and uncertain visions arising (as Aristotle observes) from the relics of the several affairs which employed our thoughts and labours during our waking hours; owing to the disturbances of which marvellous varieties of dreams and visions at times arise. If some of these are false, and others true, I shall be glad to be informed by what definite art we are to distinguish the true from the false. If there be no such art, why do we consult the interpreters? If there be any such art, then I wish to know what it is.
LXIII. But they will hesitate. For it is a matter of question, which is more probable; that the supreme and immortal Gods, who excel in every kind of superiority, employ themselves in visiting all night long not merely the beds, but the very pallets of men, and as soon as they find any person fairly snoring, entertain his imagination with perplexed dreams and obscure visions, which sends him in great alarm as soon as daylight dawns to consult the seer and interpreter; or whether these dreams are the result of natural causes, and the ever-active, ever-working mind having seen things when awake, seems to see them again when asleep. Which is the more philosophical course, to interpret these phenomena according to the superstitions of old women, or by natural explanations?
So that even if a true interpretation of dreams could exist, it is certainly not in the possession of those who profess it, for these people are the lowest and most ignorant of the people. And it is not without reason that your friends the Stoics affirm, that no one can ever be a diviner but a wise man.
Chrysippus, indeed, defines divination in these words : ” It is,” says he, ”a power of apprehending, discerning, and explaining those signs which are given by the Gods to men as portents ;” and he adds, that the proper office of a soothsayer is to know beforehand the disposition of the Gods in regard to men, and to declare what intimations they give, and by what means these prodigies are to be propitiated or averted. The interpretation of dreams he also defines in this manner. ”It is,” says he, ”a power of beholding and revealing those things which the Gods signify to men in dreams.” Well, then, does this require but a moderate degree of wisdom, or rather consummate , sagacity, and perfect erudition ?—and a man so endowed we have never known.
LXIV. Consider, therefore, whether even if I were to concede to you that there is such a thing as divination—which I never will concede—it would still not follow that a diviner could be found to exercise it truly. But what strange ideas must the Gods have, if the intimations which they give us in dreams are such as we cannot understand of ourselves, and such, too, as we cannot find interpreters of: acting almost as wisely as the Carthaginians and Spaniards would do if they were to harangue in their native languages in our Roman senate without an interpreter.
But what is the object of these enigmas and obscurities of dreamers? For the Gods ought to wish us to understand those things which they reveal to us for our own sake and benefit. What! is no poet, no natural philosopher obscure? Euphorion certainly is obscure enough, but Homer is not; which, then, is the best? Heraclitus is very puzzling, Democritus is very lucid; are they to be compared? You, for my own sake, give me advice that I do not understand!
What is it, then, that you are advising me to do? Suppose a medical man were to prescribe to a sick man an earth-born, grass-walking, house-carrying, unsanguineous animal, instead of simply saying, a snail; so Amphion in Pacuvius speaks of—
A four-footed and slow-going beast,
Rugged, debased, and harsh; his head is short,
His neck is serpentine, his aspect stern;
He has no blood, but is an animal
Inanimate, not voiceless.
When these obscure verses had been duly recited, the Greeks cried out, We do not understand you unless you tell us plainly what animal you mean? I mean, said Pacuvius, I mean in one word, a tortoise. Could you not, then, said the questioner, have told us so at first ?
LXV. We read in that volume which Chrysippus has written concerning dreams, that some one having dreamed in the night that he saw an egg hanging on his bed-post, went to consult the interpreter about it. The interpreter informed him that the dream signified that a sum of money was concealed under his bed. He dug, and found a little gold surrounded by a heap of silver. Upon this, he sent the interpreter as much of the silver as he thought a fair reward. Then said the interpreter, ” What ! none of the yolk ?” For that part of the egg appeared to have intimated gold, while the rest meant silver.
But did no one else ever dream of eggs ; if others have, too, then why is this man the only one who ever found a treasure in consequence ? How many poor people are there worthy of the help of the Gods, to whom they vouchsafe no such fortunate intimations ! And, again, why did this individual receive such an obscure sign of a treasure as could be afforded by the resemblance of an egg, instead of being distinctly commanded at once to look for a treasure, in the same way as Simonides was expressly forbidden to put to sea? Therefore, obscure dreams are not at all consistent with the majesty of the Gods.
LXVI. But let us now treat of those dreams which you term clear and definite, such as that of the Arcadian whose friend was killed by the inn-keeper at Megara, or that of Simonides, who was warned not to set sail by an apparition of a man whose interment he had kindly superintended. The history of Alexander presents us with another instance of this kind, which I wonder you did not cite, who, after his friend Ptolemy had been wounded in battle by a poisoned arrow, and when he appeared to be dying of the wound, and was in great agony, fell asleep while sitting by his bed, and in his slumber is said to have seen a vision of the serpent which his mother Olympias cherished, bringing a root in his mouth, and telling him that it grew in a spot very near at hand, and that it possessed such medicinal virtue, that it would easily cure Ptolemy if applied to his wound. On awaking, Alexander related his dream, and messengers were sent to look for that plant, which, when it was found, not only cured Ptolemy, but likewise several other soldiers, who during the engagement had been wounded by similar arrows.
You have related a number of dreams of this nature borrowed from history. For instance, that of the mother of Phalaris, that of King Cyrus, that of the mother of Dionysius, that of Hamilcar the Carthaginian, that of Hannibal, that of Publius Decius, that notorious one of the president, that of Gaius Gracchus and the recent one of Caecilia, the daughter of Metellus Balearicus.
But the main part of these dreams happened to strangers, and on that account we know little of their particular circumstances : some of them may be mere fictions; for who are they vouched by?
As to those dreams that have occurred in our personal experience, what can we say about them, about your dream respecting myself and my horse being submerged close to the bank; or mine, that Marius with the laurelled fasces ordered me to be conducted into his monument?
LXVIL All these dreams, my brother, are of the same character, and, by the immortal Gods, let us not make so poor a use of our reason, as to subject it to our superstition and delusions. For what do you suppose the Marius was that appeared to me? His ghost or image, I suppose, as Democritus would call it. Whence, then, did his image come from ? For images, according to him, flow from solid bodies and palpable forms. What body then of Marius was in existence ? It came, he would say, from that body which had existed ; for all things are full of images. It was, then, the image of Marius that haunted me on the Atinian territory, for no forms can be imagined except by the impulsion of images.
What are we to think then ? Are those images so obedient to our word that they come before us at our bidding as soon as we wish them ; and even images of things which have no reality whatsoever? For what form is there so preposterous and absurd that the mind cannot form to itself a picture of it ? so much so indeed that we can bring before our minds even things which we have never seen ; as, for instance, the situations of towns and the figures of men.
When, then, I dream of the walls of Babylon, or the countenance of Homer, is it because some physical image of them strikes my mind? All things, then, which we desire to be so, can be known to us, for there is nothing of which we cannot think. Therefore, no images steal in upon the mind of the sleeper from without; nor indeed are such external images flowing about at all; and I never knew any one who talked nonsense with greater authority.
The energy and nature of human minds is so vigorous that they go on exerting themselves while awake by no adventitious impulse, but by a motion of their own, with a most incredible celerity. When these minds are duly supported by the physical organs and senses of the body, they see and conceive and discern all things with precision and certainty. But when this support is withdrawn, and the mind is deserted by the languor of the body, then it is put in motion by its own force. Therefore, forms and actions belong to it; and many things appear to be heard by, and said to it.
Then, when the mind is in a weak and relaxed state, many things present themselves to it commingled and varied in every kind of manner; and most especially do the reminiscences of those things flit before the mind and move about, which excited its interest or employed its active energies when awake. As, for instance, Marius at that time was often present to my mind while I recollected with what magnanimity and constancy he had borne his sad misfortunes; and this, I imagine, is the reason why I dreamed of him.
LXVIII. You also were thinking of me with great anxiety, when suddenly I appeared to you to have just escaped out of the river. For there were in both of our minds the traces of our waking thoughts. In both instances, however, there were certain additional circumstances; as in mine, the visit to the temple of Marius; and in yours, the reappearance of the horse on which I was riding, and who sunk at the same time with myself.
Do you think then, you will say, that any old woman would be so doting as to believe dreams if they did not sometimes and at random turn out true? A dragon appeared to address Alexander. Doubtless this might be true, or it might be false; but whichever the case may have been, there is surely nothing very wonderful about it; for he did not hear this serpent speaking—he only dreamed that he heard him; and to make the story more remarkable, the serpent appeared with a branch in its mouth, and yet spoke: still nothing is difficult or impossible in a dream.
I would ask, however, how it was that Alexander had this one dream so remarkable and so certain, though he had no such dream on any other occasion, nor have other people seen many such. For myself, excepting that about Marius, I do not recollect having experienced one worth speaking of. I must, therefore, have wasted to no purpose as many nights, as I have slept during my long life.
Now, indeed, on account of the intermission of my forensic labours, I have diminished my evening studies, and added some noonday slumbers, in which I never indulged before. But yet, though I sleep so much more than formerly, I am never visited with a prophetic dream, which I should consider a singular favour now, though engaged in such weighty affairs. Nor do I seem ever to experience any more important dream than when I see the magistrates in the forum, and the senate in the senate-house.
LXIX. In truth, (and this is the second branch of your division,) what connexion and conjunction of nature (which, as I have said, the Greeks term συμπαθεια,) is there of such a character, that a treasure is to be understood by an egg? Physicians, indeed, know of certain facts by which they perceive the approaches and increase of diseases; there are also some indications of a return to health; so that the very fact whether we have plenty to eat or whether we are dying of hunger, is said to be indicated by some kinds of dreams. But by what rational connexion are treasures, and honours, and victories, and things of that kind, joined to dreams?
They tell us, that a certain individual dreaming of sexual coition, ejected calculi: I grant that sympathy may have had something to do in a case like this,—because, in sleeping, his imagination might have been so affected with sensual images, that such an emission took place by the force of nature, rather than by supernatural phantasms. But what sympathy could have presented to Simonides the image of the person, who in a dream warned him not to put to sea? Or what sympathy could have occasioned the vision of Alcibiades, who, a little before his death, is said to have dreamed that he was arrayed in the robes of Timandra his mistress? What relation could this have with the event which afterwards happened to him; when, being slain and cast naked into the street and abandoned by all the world, his mistress took off her mantle and covered his dead body with it? Was this then fixed as a piece of futurity, and had it natural causes, or was it mere accident that the dream was seen, and came true?
LXX. Do not the conjectures of the interpreters of dreams rather indicate the subtlety of their own talents, than any natural sympathy and correspondence in the nature of things?
A runner, who intended to run in the Olympic games, dreamed during the night that he was being driven in a chariot drawn by four horses. In the morning he applied to an interpreter. He replied to him, You will win: that is what is intimated by the strength and swiftness of the horses. He then applied to Antiphon, who said to him, By your dream it appears that you must lose the race; for do you not see that four reached the goal before you?
Here is another story respecting an athlete; and the books of Chrysippus and Antipater are full of such stories. However, I will return to the runner. He then went to a soothsayer and informed him that he had just dreamed that he was changed into an eagle. You have won your race (said the seer), for this eagle is the swiftest of all birds. He also went to Antiphon, who said to him, You will certainly be conquered; for the eagle chases and drives other birds which fly before it, and consequently is always behind the rest.
A certain matron, who was very anxious to have children, and who doubted whether she was pregnant or not, dreamed one night that her womb was sealed up; she, therefore, asked a soothsayer whether her dream signified her pregnancy? He said, No; for the sealing implied, that there could be no conception. But another whom she consulted said, that her dream plainly proved her pregnancy; for vessels that have nothing in them are never sealed at all. How delusive, then, is this conjectural art of those interpreters! Or do these stories that I have recited, and a host of similar ones which the Stoics have collected, prove anything else but the subtlety of men, who, from certain imaginary analogies of things, arrive at all sorts of opposite conclusions?
Physicians derive certain indications from the veins and breath of a sick man; and have many other symptoms by which they judge of the future. So, when pilots see the cuttlefish leaping, and the dolphins betaking themselves to the harbours, they recognise these indications as sure signs of an approaching storm. Such signs may be easily explained by reference to the laws of nature; but those which I was mentioning just now cannot possibly be accounted for in the same manner.
LXXI. But the defenders of divination reply, (and this is the last objection I shall answer,) that a long continuance of observations has created an art. Can, then, dreams be experimented on? And if so, how? for the varieties of them are innumerable. Nothing can be imagined so preposterous, so incredible, or so monstrous, as to be beyond our power of dreaming. And by what method can this infinite variety be either fixed in memory or analysed by reason?
Astrologers have observed the motion of the planets, for a certain order and regularity in the course of these stars has been discovered which was not suspected. But tell me, what order or regularity can be discerned in dreams? How can true dreams be distinguished from false ones; since the same dreams are followed by different results to different people, and, indeed, are not always attended by the same events in the case of the same persons?
For this reason I am extremely surprised that, though people have wit enough to give no credit to a notorious liar, even when he speaks the truth, they still, if one single dream has turned out true, do not so much distrust one single case because of the numbers of instances in which they have been found false, as think multitudes of dreams established because of the ascertained truth of this one.
If, then, dreams do not come from God, and if there are no objects in nature with which they have a necessary sympathy and connexion, and if it is impossible by experiments and observations to arrive at a sure interpretation of them, the consequence is, that dreams are not entitled to any credit or respect whatever.
And this I say with the greater confidence, since those very persons who experience these dreams cannot by any means understand them, and those persons who pretend to interpret them, do so by conjecture, not by demonstration. And in the infinite series of ages, chance has produced many more extraordinary results in every kind of thing than it has in dreams; nor can anything be more uncertain than that conjectural interpretation of diviners, which admits not only of several, but often of absolutely contrary senses.
LXXII. Let us reject, therefore, this divination of dreams, as well as all other kinds. For, to speak truly, that superstition has extended itself through all nations, and has oppressed the intellectual energies of almost all men, and has betrayed them into endless imbecilities: as I argued in my treatise on the Nature of the Gods, and as I have especially laboured to prove in this dialogue on Divination. For I thought that I should be doing an immense benefit both to myself and to my countrymen if I could entirely eradicate all those superstitious errors.
Nor is there any fear that true religion can be endangered by the demolition of this superstition; for it is the part of a wise man to uphold the religious institutions of our ancestors, by the maintenance of their rites and ceremonies. And the beauty of the world and the order of all celestial things compels us to confess that there is an excellent and eternal nature which deserves to be worshipped and admired by all mankind.
Wherefore, as this religion which is united with the knowledge of nature is to be propagated, so also are all the roots of superstition to be destroyed. For it presses upon, and pursues, and persecutes you wherever you turn yourself,—whether you consult a diviner, or have heard an omen, or have immolated a victim, or beheld a flight of birds; whether you have seen a Chaldean or a soothsayer; if it lightens or thunders, or if anything is struck by lightning; if any kind of prodigy occurs; some of which events must be frequently coming to pass; so that you can never rest with a tranquil mind.
Sleep seems to be the universal refuge from all labours and anxieties. And yet even from this many cares and perturbations spring forth which, indeed, would of themselves have no influence, and would rather be despised, if certain philosophers had not taken dreams under their special patronage; and those, too, not philosophers of the lowest order, but men of vast learning, and remarkable penetration into the consequences and inconsistencies of things, men who are looked upon as absolute and perfect masters of all science. Nay, if, Carneades had not resisted their extravagances, I hardly know whether they would not by this time have been reckoned the only philosophers worthy of the name. And it is with those men that nearly all our controversy and dispute respecting divination is mainly waged; not because we think meanly of their wisdom, but because they appear to defend their theories with the greatest acuteness and cautiousness.
But, as it is the peculiar property of the Academy to interpose no personal judgment of its own, but to admit those opinions which appear most probable, to compare arguments, and to set forth all that may be reasonably stated in favour of each proposition; and so, without putting forth any authority of its own, to leave the judgment of the hearers free and unprejudiced; we will retain this custom, which has been handed down from Socrates; and this method, dear brother Quintus, if you please, we will adopt as often as possible in all our dialogues together.
Indeed, said he, nothing can be more agreeable to me.
Having held these conversations we went away.
