In a curious treatise on “Divination,” or the knowledge of future events, Cicero has preserved a complete account of the state contrivances practised by the Roman government, to instil among the people those hopes and fears by which they regulated public opinion. The Pagan creed, now become obsolete and ridiculous, has occasioned this treatise to be rarely consulted; it remains, however, as a chapter in the history of man!
There appears to be something in minds which take in extensive views of human nature, which serves them as a kind of Divination, and the consciousness of this faculty has been asserted by some. Cicero appeals to Atticus how he had always judged of the affairs of the republic as a good diviner; and that its overthrow had happened, as he had foreseen, fourteen years before. (Ep. ad Att. lib. 10, ep. 4.)
Cicero had not only predicted what had happened in his own times, but also what occurred long after, according to Cornelius Nepos. The philosopher, indeed, affects no secret revelation, nor visionary second-sight;—he honestly tells us, that that art had been acquired merely by study, and the administration of public affairs, while he reminds his friend of several remarkable instances of his successful predictions. “I do not,” says Cicero, “divine human events by the arts practised by the augurs; but I use other signs.” Cicero then expresses himself with the guarded obscurity of a philosopher who could not openly ridicule the prevailing superstitions, although the nature of his “signs” are perfectly comprehensible, when in the great pending events of the rival conflicts of Pompey and Cæsar, he shewed the means he used for his purpose: “On one side I consider the humour and genius of Cæsar, and on the other, the condition and manner of civil wars.” (Ep. ad. Att. lib. 6, ep. 6.) In a word, the political diviner, by his experience of the personal character, anticipated the actions of the individual. Others, too, have asserted the possession of this faculty. Du Vard, an eminent chancellor of France, imagined the faculty to be intuitive with him; from observations made by his own experience. “Born,” says he, “with constitutional infirmity, a mind and body but ill adapted to be laborious, with a most treacherous memory, enjoying no gift of nature, yet able at all times to exercise a sagacity so great that I do not know, since I have reached manhood, that any thing of importance has happened to the state, to the public, or to myself in particular, which I had not foreseen[[32]].” The same faculty appears to be described by a remarkable expression employed by Thucidides, in his character of Themistocles, of which the following is a close translation. “By a species of sagacity peculiarly his own, for which he was in no degree indebted either to early education or after study, he was supereminently happy in forming a prompt judgment in matters that admitted but little time for deliberation; at the same time that he far surpassed all his deductions of the future from the PAST; or was the best guesser of the future from the past.”
Should this faculty of moral and political prediction be ever considered as a science, it may be furnished with a denomination, for the writer of the life of Thomas Brown, prefixed to his works, in claiming the honour for that philosopher, calls it the “Stochastic,” a term derived from the Greek and from Archery, meaning to “shoot at the mark.”
Aristotle, who collected all the curious knowledge of his times, has preserved some remarkable opinions on the art of divination. In detailing the various subterfuges practised by the pretended diviners of the present day, he reveals the secret principle by which one of them regulated his predictions. He frankly declared that the FUTURE being always very obscure, while the PAST was easy to know, his predictions had never the future view; for he decided from the PAST, as it appeared in human affairs, which, however, he concealed from the multitude. (Arist. Rhetoric, lib. vii. c. 5.)
With regard to moral predictions on individuals, many have discovered the future character. The revolutionary predisposition of Cardinal Retz, even in his youth, was detected by the sagacity of Cardinal Mazarine. He then wrote a history of the conspiracy of Fresco, with such vehement admiration of his hero, that the Italian politician, after its perusal, predicted that the young author would be one of the most turbulent spirits of the age! The father of Marshal Biron, even amid the glory of his son, discovered the cloud which, invisible to others, was to obscure it. The father, indeed, well knew the fiery passions of his son. “Biron,” said the domestic Seer, “I advise thee, when peace takes place, to go and plant cabbages in thy garden, otherwise I warn thee thou wilt lose thy head upon the scaffold!”
Lorenzo de Medici had studied the temper of his son Piero; for we are informed by Guicciardini that he had often complained to his most intimate friends that “he foresaw the imprudence and arrogance of his son would occasion the ruin of his family.”
There is a singular prediction of James the first, of the evils likely to ensue from Laud’s violence, in a conversation given by Hacket, which the King held with Archbishop Williams. When the King was hard pressed to promote Laud, he gave his reasons why he intended to “keep Laud back from all place of rule and authority, because I find he hath a restless spirit, and cannot see when matters are well, but loves to toss and change, and to bring things to a pitch of reformation floating in his own brain, which endangers the stedfastness of that which is in a good pass. I speak not at random; he hath made himself known to me to be such a one.” James then relates the circumstances to which he alludes; and at length, when still pursued by the Archbishop, then the organ of Buckingham, as usual, this King’s good nature too easily yielded; he did not, however, without closing with this prediction: “Then take him to you! but on my soul you will repent it!”
The future character of Cromwell was apparent to two of our great politicians. “This coarse, unpromising man,” observed Lord Falkland, pointing to Cromwell, “will be the first person in the kingdom if the nation comes to blows!” And Archbishop Williams told Charles the First confidentially, that “There was that in Cromwell which foreboded something dangerous, and wished his Majesty would either win him over to him, or get him taken off!”
The incomparable character of Buonaparte, given by the Marquis of Wellesley, predicted his fall when highest in his power. “His eagerness of power,” says this great Statesman, “is so inordinate; his jealousy of independence so fierce; his keenness of appetite so feverish, in all that touches his ambition, even in the most trifling things, that he must plunge into dreadful difficulties. He is one of an order of minds that by nature make for themselves great reverses.”