Chapter 55

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We read that Orpheus, that theologian, first showed the auspices and auguries that foretell the future from living creatures and birds, which afterward were held in great esteem among all peoples. These are verified by the luminousness of the sense of nature, as though from this source certain lights of divination descend upon quadrupeds, winged creatures, and other animals, by which they are enabled to presage to us concerning human events: which Vergil too seems to have felt, where he sings: "Indeed I do not believe it is because a more divine intelligence is in them, or a greater foreknowledge of fate" (verse, summarized — see flag).

A sense of nature of this kind, as William of Paris says, is itself more sublime than any human apprehension, and nearest to prophecy, and vehemently like it. From this sense a certain marvelous splendor of divination has been naturally implanted in some animals: as clearly appears in certain dogs, which recognize, find, track down, and seize, by a sense of this kind, thieves and hidden men wholly unknown to themselves and to other men, rushing upon them with jaws and teeth. By a similar sense vultures foresee future slaughters from battles, and gather in the places where these are to be, as though foreseeing for themselves the future feast of corpses. By the same sense partridges recognize their own mother, whom they have never seen, and abandon the partridge that stole and brooded their mother's egg. By this same sense, the human soul being wholly ignorant of it, certain harmful and terrifying things are sensed, whence terror and horror invade very many men who perceive or think nothing at all concerning such matters. Thus a thief lurking in some house, though it is entirely unknown or unsuspected that he is there, disturbs the inhabitants of that house with horror, fear, and unease of heart — perhaps not all of them, since a splendor of this kind is not present in all men, but in a few. Thus a prostitute hidden in some very large house is sometimes sensed to be there by someone wholly unaware. It is handed down in histories that a certain Heraiscus of Egypt, a man of divine nature, recognized unclean women not only by sight but by voice heard from afar, and was immediately afflicted, not lightly, with a headache on that account. William of Paris also relates that a certain woman in his own time was sensed by one who loved her, by a sense of this kind, from two miles away, as she was approaching the place where he was staying — that is, before her arrival was otherwise known. He also relates that in his own time a certain stork, convicted of adultery by the male's sense of smell, was set upon by a gathered multitude of males, who, conspiring together and the male detecting the crime, that whole multitude — as though she had been judged guilty by full trial — plucked and tore her to pieces. He also recounts of a certain horse, which, having unknowingly lain with its own mother, afterward, on discovering this, bit off its own genitals with its own teeth, as though avenging the incest upon itself. Similar things about horses are recounted by Aristotle, Varro, and Pliny. Pliny himself narrates a similar deed concerning a certain asp, which, coming daily to a certain man's table in Egypt, was fed there, and having given birth to young, one of which killed the host's son, she, on returning and learning of the fault, brought death upon that young one, and afterward did not return to that roof.

Now by these examples we see how certain lights of presage can descend upon animals, as though marked in their gesture, motion, voice, flight, gait, food, color, and things established in this manner. For according to the doctrine of the Platonists, there is in lower things a certain implanted power, by which they agree for the most part with higher things: whence also the silent consents of animals seem to agree with the divine bodies, and by these powers their bodies and dispositions are affected, and are ascribed by name to their [ruling] divinities. It is fitting, therefore, to consider which animals are Saturnian, which relate to Jupiter, which to Mars, and so on individually, and to draw out presages according to their properties: thus those relating to Saturn and Mars are all called dire and funereal birds, such as little owls, screech-owls, and the others we recited above; the horned owl too, being a Saturnian bird, solitary and nocturnal, is said to be of the most inauspicious omen, of which the poet says: "Thus the foul bird, messenger of coming grief, / the cowardly horned owl, a dire omen to mortals" (verse, summarized — see flag).

The swan, however, a delightful bird, of Venus, and also sacred to Phoebus, is said to be of the happiest presage, especially in the auspices of sailors, since it is not submerged by water, whence Ovid sings: "The swan among auspices is always the most joyful bird" (verse, summarized — see flag). There are, besides, songbirds (oscines) which make an omen by mouth and song: such are the raven, the woodpecker, the crow, whence Vergil: "Often the crow, from the hollow ilex on the left, has foretold" (verse, summarized — see flag). But the birds that portend the future by flight are such as buzzards, the sanqualis bird, eagles, vultures, cranes, swans, and the like; for in flight it is considered whether they fly steadily, whether at any time they veer to the right or the left, or in what number they fly together at once: in this way, cranes, when they fly hastily, signify a storm; when quietly, fair weather. Likewise, when two funereal birds fly together, they are said to portend evil, because their number is one of confusion. In like manner you will investigate the reasoning about the rest by transferring here the matter of numbers: moreover, to observe likeness in these conjectures is masterly, as in Vergil, where Venus herself, in disguise, instructs her son Aeneas with these verses:

"Unless our idle parents taught us augury in vain, look — twice six swans rejoicing in a column, whom Jove's bird, gliding down from the ethereal region, was scattering through the open sky; now in a long line they seem either to be alighting on the land, or already looking down on places already taken; as they return they play with whistling wings, and have encircled the sky in a flock, and given forth their song. No differently do your ships and the young men of your people either hold the harbor, or, under full sail, are entering its mouth" (verse, summarized — see flag).

But the most marvelous kind of augury is that of those who hear and understand the speech of animals, as among the ancients Melampus and Tiresias and Thales, and, as is read, Apollonius of Tyana excelled at this, who is said to have mastered the speech of birds: concerning whom Philostratus and Porphyry relate that when Apollonius had once sat down in a gathering of friends, watching sparrows perching in a tree, one little sparrow came from elsewhere, chattering noisily with its voice, and all the others followed it in flight; he said to his companions that that sparrow had announced to the rest that a donkey, laden with wheat, had fallen near the city in an alley, and that the wheat was spilled on the ground: moved by these words, a good many went off to see, and found it had happened just as Apollonius had said, marveling greatly. Porphyry the Platonist, in the third book of On Sacrifices, says he himself made use of a swallow [for this purpose]. For this is certain: that every sound of any animal whatsoever is significant of some passion of its soul, or of a glad, or sad, or angry disposition: and that these sounds can be understood by men practiced in this regard is not so much to be wondered at. But Democritus himself handed down this art, as Pliny says, by naming birds from whose consumed blood a serpent is engendered, which whoever eats shall understand the conversations of birds. And Hermes says that if anyone, going out to hunt on a fixed day of the Kalends of November, cooks the first bird he catches with a fox's heart, all who eat of this will understand the voices of birds and of other animals. The Arabs, too, have handed down that those who have eaten the heart or brain of dragons [serpents] understand the senses of brute beasts; and Proclus the Platonist himself believed and taught that a mole's heart contributes to presages.

There were also divinations and auspices which were taken from the entrails and fibers of sacrifices, whose inventor was Tages, of whom Lucan sang: "And let there be no faith in the fibers, but let Tages, the founder of the art, have invented them" (verse, summarized — see flag). Roman religion held the liver to be the chief part of the entrails. Hence the haruspices, searching the entrails for the future, first inspected the liver, on which two heads were established, one of which they called the citizen's, the other the enemy's, and, comparing the two heads, they pronounced victory for the one part or the other: just as in Lucan we read that the entrails signified the slaughter of Pompey's side and the victory of Caesar's, in these verses: "And that no impiety has ever appeared unpunished in any entrails, behold, he saw the mass of the fibers increasing on one head, while the other head's part hangs sickly and withered, the [other] part gleams, and shamelessly moves the rest of the veins with its pulse" (verse, summarized — see flag).

Then, the viscera being examined, they searched for the heart. But if the victim were found without a heart, or the head [lobe] were missing from the liver, these were pestilential auspices, and were called piacular. Likewise also if the victim had fled from the altar, or, being struck, had bellowed, or had fallen on some other part of the body than was proper. Concerning these we read that for Julius Caesar, on the day he processed in a purple robe and sat on a golden chair, the heart was twice missing from the entrails of the sacrificed victim. And for Gaius Marius, sacrificing at Utica, the liver was missing from the entrails. Likewise for the emperor Gaius [Caligula], and for M. Marcellus; when C. Claudius and L. Petellius, the consuls, had sacrificed victims, the liver suddenly wasted away: and not much later, one died of disease, the other perished by the arms of the Ligurians, the entrails having thus foretold it: which is certainly thought to occur either by the power of the gods, or by the working of demons. Hence it was always held of the greatest importance among the ancients, whenever anything unusual appeared in the entrails: just as, when Sulla was sacrificing at Laurentum, the likeness of a crown appeared on the head of the liver, which Postumius the haruspex interpreted as portending to him victory together with kingship, and accordingly advised that Sulla alone should eat of those entrails. The color of the entrails, too, has its own significance; of these Lucan makes mention: "The very color terrified the seer, for the pale organs were stained with foul markings, and infected with icy blood, and a widespread livid discoloration varied with the sprinkled blood" (verse, summarized — see flag).

So great was once the reverence for these arts, that the most powerful and wisest men followed them, indeed the senate and kings did nothing without first taking the auspices. But all these things today, through both the negligence of men and the authority of the Fathers [the Church], have been abolished.

Modern rendering

We read that Orpheus the theologian was the first to demonstrate the auspices and omens that foretell the future through animals and birds — practices later held in high regard among every people. They work through the brightness of nature's own sense: as if certain lights of divination descend from this source onto four-footed creatures, birds, and other animals, letting them foresense human events for us. Vergil seems to sense this too, where he writes (verse, summarized — see flag: I don't really believe these creatures have a more divine intelligence or greater foresight than we do).

This kind of natural sense, as William of Paris puts it, is more exalted than any human grasp, and comes very close to prophecy — strongly resembling it. From this sense, a remarkable brilliance of divination has been built into certain animals: you can see it clearly in some dogs, which track down, find, and seize thieves and hidden men completely unknown to them or to anyone else, using exactly this sense, and attack them with teeth and jaws. Vultures use a similar sense to foresee coming carnage from battles and gather at the places where it will happen, as if anticipating a future meal of corpses. Partridges use the same sense to recognize their true mother, whom they've never actually seen, and abandon the partridge that stole and incubated their mother's egg. This same sense also picks up on harmful or frightening things the human mind is completely unaware of — which is why terror and dread overtake so many people who sense or think nothing consciously about the matter. A thief hiding in a house, even when no one knows or suspects he's there, unsettles the household with fear, dread, and unease — though maybe not everyone in it, since this brightness isn't present in everyone, only in a few. Likewise, a prostitute hidden somewhere in a very large house is sometimes sensed to be there by someone with no idea she's around. There's a story that a certain Heraiscus of Egypt, a man of an almost divine nature, could recognize impure women not just by sight but by their voice heard from a distance, and immediately came down with a bad headache from it. William of Paris also tells of a woman in his own time who was sensed, by a man who loved her, from two miles off as she approached the place he was staying — he knew she was coming before anyone told him. He also describes a stork of his own time caught in adultery by scent, mobbed by a crowd of males who banded together once the male detected the offense, and torn apart and stripped of feathers by that whole crowd as if formally convicted. He also tells of a horse that unknowingly mated with its own mother, and on realizing this afterward, bit off its own genitals with its teeth, as if punishing itself for the incest. Aristotle, Varro, and Pliny report similar stories about horses. Pliny himself tells of an asp that did something similar: fed daily at a man's table in Egypt, she gave birth to young, one of which killed her host's son; she returned, realized what had happened, killed that particular offspring, and never came back to that house again.

These examples show how certain gleams of foresight can settle onto animals, marked out, as it were, in their gesture, movement, voice, flight, gait, diet, color, and other such traits. Platonist doctrine holds that lower things carry a built-in power that largely aligns them with higher things — so animals' unspoken responses seem to sync with the heavenly bodies, and their bodies and moods are affected by these same powers, which is why they're named after the corresponding planetary gods. It's worth working out, then, which animals belong to Saturn, which to Jupiter, which to Mars, and so on, and drawing omens from each one's traits: so animals tied to Saturn and Mars are all called dire, funereal birds — little owls, screech-owls, and the others already listed; the horned owl, too, being Saturn's bird, solitary and nocturnal, is said to carry the worst possible omen — the poet says of it (verse, summarized — see flag: the foul bird, herald of coming grief, the cowardly owl, a dire omen to mortals).

The swan, though, a delightful bird tied to Venus and also sacred to Apollo, is said to bring the happiest omens, especially for sailors, since it never sinks in water — hence Ovid's line that the swan is always the most joyful bird in omens (verse, summarized — see flag). There are also "songbirds" that give omens by call and song, such as the raven, the woodpecker, and the crow — hence Vergil's line about a crow foretelling something from a hollow oak on the left (verse, summarized — see flag). Birds that foretell the future through flight include buzzards, the sanqualis bird, eagles, vultures, cranes, swans, and similar birds; what matters in their flight is whether they fly steadily, whether they veer right or left, and how many fly together at once. Cranes flying hurriedly signal a storm; flying quietly, they signal fair weather. Likewise, when two funereal birds fly together, that's read as a bad sign, because that number signals confusion. You can work out the rest the same way, applying this logic of numbers; and noticing resemblance in these readings is itself a skill, as when Venus, disguised, instructs her son Aeneas in Vergil with these lines (verse, summarized — see flag: unless our forebears taught us augury for nothing, look — twelve swans rejoicing in formation, which Jupiter's eagle had scattered across the open sky; now in a long line they seem to be landing, or already looking down at ground already claimed; as they return they play with whistling wings, circle the sky together, and sing — just as your ships and their crews are either already in harbor or entering it under full sail).

The most remarkable kind of augury, though, belongs to those who can hear and understand the speech of animals — Melampus, Tiresias, and Thales among the ancients, and, we're told, Apollonius of Tyana above all, who reportedly mastered bird-speech. Philostratus and Porphyry tell how Apollonius, sitting once among friends and watching sparrows in a tree, saw a stray sparrow arrive from elsewhere, chattering loudly, and all the others flew off after it; he told his companions that the sparrow had announced that a donkey loaded with wheat had collapsed nearby in an alley, spilling its grain on the ground. Moved by this, quite a few people went to check, and found things exactly as Apollonius had described, and were amazed. Porphyry the Platonist, in book three of On Sacrifices, says he used a swallow for the same purpose. It's a settled fact that every animal's cry expresses some feeling of its soul — joy, sorrow, or anger — so it isn't so surprising that people trained in this can understand those sounds. Democritus himself, according to Pliny, passed down a technique naming specific birds whose blood, once consumed, breeds a serpent, and whoever eats that serpent will understand the speech of birds. Hermes says that if someone goes hunting on a set day at the start of November and cooks the first bird he catches with a fox's heart, everyone who eats it will understand the calls of birds and other animals. The Arabs likewise held that eating the heart or brain of serpents lets a person grasp the minds of animals; and Proclus the Platonist himself believed and taught that a mole's heart aids in foresight.

There were also forms of divination taken from the entrails and fibers of sacrificial animals, first devised, according to Lucan, by Tages (verse, summarized — see flag: put no faith in the fibers themselves, but credit their inventor, Tages). Roman religious practice held the liver to be the chief organ of the entrails. So the haruspices, reading the entrails for the future, examined the liver first, treating it as having two lobes — one called "the citizen's," the other "the enemy's" — and, comparing the two, declared which side would win. Lucan describes exactly this happening before Pharsalus, the entrails predicting Pompey's slaughter and Caesar's victory (verse, summarized — see flag: describing one lobe swelling ominously while the other withers and fades, and the enemy's side pulsing with unnatural vigor).

After that, they examined the rest of the organs and looked for the heart. If the victim was found without a heart, or the liver was missing its lobe, these were disastrous omens, called piacular. The same applied if the victim bolted from the altar, bellowed when struck, or fell on the wrong part of its body. We're told that on the day Julius Caesar processed in a purple robe and sat on a golden throne, the sacrificial victim's heart was missing from the entrails twice. When Gaius Marius sacrificed at Utica, the liver was missing from the entrails. The same happened to the emperor Caligula and to Marcus Marcellus; when the consuls Gaius Claudius and Lucius Petellius offered sacrifices, the liver suddenly wasted away — and not long after, one died of illness, the other was killed fighting the Ligurians, just as the entrails had predicted. This is thought to happen either through the power of the gods or the working of demons. That's why the ancients always took it very seriously whenever anything unusual turned up in the entrails: when Sulla sacrificed at Laurentum, something shaped like a crown appeared on the liver's lobe, which the haruspex Postumius read as predicting victory and kingship for him — and on that basis advised that Sulla alone should eat those entrails. The color of the entrails mattered too; Lucan describes this (verse, summarized — see flag: the color itself terrified the seer — organs stained pale with foul markings, tainted with cold blood, mottled all over with livid, blood-spattered discoloration).

These arts were once held in such reverence that the most powerful and wisest men practiced them, and the Senate and kings did nothing without first taking the auspices. But today all of this has been abolished, both through people's carelessness and through the authority of the Church Fathers.