FATE.
Fate, in a general sense, denotes an inevitable necessity, depending on some superior cause. It is a term much used among the ancient philosophers. It is formed a fando, from speaking; and primarily implies the same with effatum, i. e. a word or decree pronounced by God; or a fixed sentence, whereby the deity has prescribed the order of things, and allotted every person what shall befal him. The Greeks called θμαρμενη, quasi, θρμος, nexus, a change, or necessary series of things, indissolubly linked together; and the moderns call it Providence. But independent of this sense of the word, in which it is used sometimes to denote the causes in nature, and sometimes the divine appointment, the word Fate has a farther meaning, being used to express some kind of necessity or other, or eternal designation of things, whereby all agents, necessary as well as voluntary, are swayed and directed to their ends.
Some authors have divided Fate into Astrological and Stoical.
Astrological fate, denotes a necessity of things and events, arising, as is supposed, from the influence and positions of the heavenly bodies, which give law to the elements and mixed bodies, as well as to the wills of men.
Stoical fate, or FATALITY, or FATALISM, is defined by Cicero, an order or series of causes, in which cause is linked to cause, each producing others; and in this manner all things flow from the one prime cause. Chrysippus defines it a natural invariable succession of all things, ab eterno, each involving the other. To this fate they subject the very gods themselves. Thus the poet observes, that the “parent of all things made laws at the beginning, by which he not only binds other things, but himself.” Seneca also remarks, Eadem necessitas et deos alligat. Irrevocabilis divina pariter et humana cursit vehit. Ipse ille omnium conditor et rector scripsit quidam fata, sed sequitur; semel scripsit, semper paret. This eternal series of causes, the poets call μοιραι, and parcæ, or destinies.
By some later authors Fate is divided into Physical and divine.
The first, or Physical fate, is an order and series of physical causes, appropriated to their effects. This series is necessary, and the necessity is natural. The principal or foundation of this Fate is nature, or the power and manner of acting which God originally gave to the several bodies, elements, &c. By this Fate it is that fire warms; bodies communicate motion to each other; the rising and falling of the tides, &c. And the effects of this Fate are all the events and phenomena in the universe, except such as arise from the human.
The second, or divine Fate, is what is more commonly called Providence. Plato, in his Phædo, includes both these in one definition; as intimating, that they were one and the same thing, actively and passively considered. Thus, Fatum Est ratio quædam divina, lexque naturæ comes, quæ transiri nequeat, quippe a causa pendens, quæ superior sit quibusvis impedimentis. Though that of Bœtius seems the clearer of the two:—Fatum, says he, est inhærens rebus molilibus despositio per quam providentia suis quæque nectet ordinibus.
PHYSIOGNOMY[[37]], ΦΥΣΙΟΓΝΩΜΙΑ.
There seems to be something in Physiognomy, and it may perhaps bear a much purer philosophy than these authors (see Note,) were acquainted with. This, at least, we dare say, that of all the fanciful arts of the ancients, fallen into disuse by the moderns, there is none has so much foundation in nature as this. There is an apparent correspondence, or analogy between the countenance and the mind; the features and lineaments of the one are directed by the motions and affections of the other: there is even a peculiar arrangement in the members of the face, and a peculiar disposition of the countenance, to each particular affection; and perhaps to each particular idea of the mind. In fact, the language of the face (physiognomy,) is as copious, nay, perhaps, as distinct and intelligible, as that of the tongue, (speech.) Thanks to bounteous nature, she has not confined us to one only method of conversing with each other, and of learning each other’s thoughts; we have several:—We do not wholly depend on the tongue, which may happen to be bound; and the ear, which may be deaf:—but in those cases we have another resource, viz. the Countenance and the Eye, which afford us this further advantage, that by comparing the reports of the tongue, (a member exceedingly liable to deceive,) with those of the face, the prevarications of the former may be detected.
The foundation of Physiognomy is the different objects that present themselves to the senses, nay, the different ideas that arise on the mind, do make some impression on the spirits; and each an impression correspondent or adequate to its cause,—each, therefore, makes a different impression. If it be asked how such an impression could be effected, it is easy to answer; in short, it is a consequence of the economy of the Creator, who has fixed such a relation between the several parts of the creation, to the end that we may be apprized of the approach or recess of things hurtful or useful to us. Should this not be philosophical enough for our purpose, take the manner of the Cartesian language, thus: the animal spirits moved in the organ by an object, continue their motion to the brain; from whence that motion is propagated to this or that particular part of the body, as is most suitable to the design of nature; having first made a proper alteration in the face by means of its nerves, especially the Pathetici and Motores Occulorum. See Dr. Gurther’s work, anno 1604.
The face here does the office of a dial-plate, and the wheels and springs, inside the machine, putting its muscles in motion, shew what is next to be expected from the striking part. Not that the motion of the spirits is continued all the way by the impression of the object, as the impression may terminate in the substance of the brain, the common fund of the spirits; the rest Dr. Gurther imagines, may be effected much after the same manner as air is conveyed into the pipes of an organ, which being uncovered, the air rushes in; and when the keys are let go, is stopped again.
Now, if by repeated acts, or the frequent entertaining of a private passion or vice, which natural temperament has hurried, or custom dragged on to, the face is often put in that posture which attends such acts; the animal spirits will make such passages through the nerves, (in which the essence of a habit consists,) that the face is sometimes unalterably set in that posture, (as the Indian religious are by a long continued sitting in strange postures in their pagods,) or, at least, it falls, insensibly and mechanically, into that posture, unless some present object distort it therefrom, or some dissimulation hide it. This reason is confirmed by observation: thus we see great drinkers with eyes generally set towards the nose; the abducent muscles (by some called bibatorii, or bibatory muscles,) being often employed to put them in that posture, in order to view their beloved liquor in the glass, at the time of drinking. Thus, also, lascivious persons are remarkable for the oculorum mobilis petulantia, as Petronius calls it. Hence also we may account for the Quaker’s expecting face, waiting the spirit to move him; the melancholy face of most sectaries; the studious face of men of great application of mind; revengeful and bloody men, like executioners in the act; and though silence in a sort may awhile pass for wisdom, yet sooner or later, St. Martin peeps through the disguise to undo all. “A changeable face,” continues Dr. Gurther, “I have observed to show a changeable mind, but I would by no means have what has been said be understood as without exception; for I doubt not but sometimes there are found men with great and virtuous souls under very unpromising outsides.”
“Were our observations a little more strict and delicate, we might, doubtless, not only distinguish habits and tempers, but also professions. In effect, does there need much penetration to distinguish the fierce looks of the veteran soldier, the contentious look of the practised pleader, the solemn look of the minister of state, or many others of the like kind?”
A very remarkable physiological anecdote has been given by De La Place, in his “Pièces Interrestantes et peu connues.” Vol. iv. p. 8.
He was assured by a friend that he had seen a voluminous and secret correspondence which had been carried on between Louis XIV. and his favourite physician De la Chambre on this science: the faith of the monarch seems to have been great, and the purpose to which this correspondence tended was extraordinary indeed, and perhaps scarcely credible. Who will believe that Louis XIV. was so convinced of that talent, which De la Chambre attributed to himself, of deciding merely by the physiognomy of persons, not only on the real bent of their character, but to what employment they were adapted, that the king entered into a secret correspondence to obtain the critical notices of his physiognomist. That Louis XIV. should have pursued this system, undetected by his own courtiers, is also singular; but it appears by this correspondence, that this art positively swayed him in his choice of officers and favourites. On one of the backs of these letters De la Chambre had written, “If I die before his majesty, he will incur great risk of making many an unfortunate choice.”
This collection of Physiological correspondence, if it does really exist, would form a curious publication. We, however, have heard nothing of it.
De la Chambre was an enthusiastic physiognomist, as appears by his works: “The Characters of the Passions,” four volumes in quarto; “The art of Knowing Mankind;” and “the Knowledge of Animals.”
Lavater quotes his “vote and interest” in behalf of his favourite science. It is no less curious, however, to add, that Phillip Earl of Pembroke, under James I., had formed a particular collection of portraits, with a view to physiognomonical studies.
The great Prince of Condé was very expert in a sort of Physiognomy which shewed the peculiar habits, motions, and positions of familiar life, and mechanical employments. He would sometimes lay wagers with his friends, that he would guess, upon the Pont Neuf, what trade persons were of that passed by, from their walk and air.
The celebrated Marshal Laudohn would have entered when young, into the service of the great Frederick, King of Prussia; but that monarch, with all his penetration, formed a very erroneous judgment of the young officer, (as he himself found in the sequel,) and pronounced that he would never do; in consequence of which Laudohn entered into the service of the Empress-Queen, Maria Theresa, and became one of the most formidable opponents of his Prussian Majesty. Marshal Turrene was much more accurate in his opinion of our illustrious John Duke of Marlborough, whose future greatness he predicted, when he was serving in the French army as Ensign Churchill, and known by the unmilitary name of the “handsome Englishman.”
In the fine arts, moreover, we have seen no less accurate predictions of future eminence. As the scholars of Rubens were playing and jesting with each other, in the absence of their master, one of them was accidentally thrown against a piece on which Rubens had just been working, and a considerable part of it was entirely disfigured. Another of the pupils set himself immediately to repair it, and completed the design before his master returned. Rubens, on reviewing his work, observed a change, and a difference that surprised and embarrassed him. At last, suspecting that some one had been busy, he demanded an explanation; adding, that the execution was in so masterly a manner, that he would pardon the impertinence on account of its merit. Encouraged by this declaration, the young artist confessed, and explained the whole, pleading, that his officiousness was merely to screen a comrade from his master’s anger. Rubens answered, “if any one of my scholars shall excel me, it will be yourself.” This pupil was the great Vandyck.
Lavater, who revived physiognomy, has, unquestionably, brought it to great perfection. But it may justly be doubted whether he is not deceived in thinking that it may be taught like other sciences, and whether there is not much in his system that is whimsical and unfounded. Every man, however, has by nature, something of the science, and nothing is more common than to suspect the man who never looks his neighbour in the face. There is a degree of cunning in such characters, which is always dangerous, but by no means new. “There is a wicked man that hangeth down his head sadly; but inwardly he is full of deceit. Casting down his countenance, and making as if he heard not. A man may be known by his look, and one that hath understanding, by his countenance, when thou meetest him.”—In several of Lavater’s aphorisms, something like the following occurs: “A man’s attire, and excessive laughter, and gait, shew what he is.”