In former ages all persons likely to occupy an important position in the history of the world had their horoscopes erected; but in these degenerate days neither the casting of nativities nor the art of ruling the planets flourishes as it should do. Our Zadkiels and Raphaëls publish, indeed, the horoscopes of kings and emperors, princes and princesses, and so forth; but their fate is as that of Benedict (according to Beatrice)—men 'wonder they will still be talking, for nobody marks them.' Even those whose horoscopes have been erected show no proper respect for the predictions made in their behalf. Thus the Prince of Wales being born when Sagittarius was in the ascendant should have been, according to Zadkiel, a tall man, with oval face, ruddy complexion, somewhat dusky, and so forth; but I understand he has by no means followed these directions as to his appearance. The sun, being well aspected, prognosticated honours—a most remarkable and unlooked-for circumstance, strangely fulfilled by the event; but then being in Cancer, in sextile with Mars, the Prince of Wales was to be partial to maritime affairs and attain naval glory, whereas as a field-marshal he can only win military glory. (I would not be understood to say that he is not quite as competent to lead our fleets as our battalions into action.) The House of Wealth was occupied by Jupiter, aspected by Saturn, which betokened great wealth through inheritance—a prognostication, says Professor Miller, which is not unlikely to come true. The House of Marriage was unsettled by the conflicting influences of Venus, Mars, and Saturn; but the first predominating, the Prince, after some trouble in his matrimonial speculations, was to marry a Princess of high birth, and one not undeserving of his kindest and most affectionate attention, probably in 1862. As to the date, an almanack informs me that the Prince married a Danish Princess in March 1863, which looks like a most culpable neglect of the predictions of our national astrologer. Again, in May 1870, when Saturn was stationary in the ascending degree, the Prince ought to have been injured by a horse, and also to have received a blow on the left side of the head, near the ear; but reprehensibly omitted both these ceremonies. A predisposition to fever and epileptic attacks was indicated by the condition of the House of Sickness. The newspapers described, a few years since, a serious attack of fever; but as most persons have some experience of the kind, the fulfilment of the prediction can hardly be regarded as very wonderful. Epileptic attacks, which, as less common, might have saved the credit of the astrologers, have not visited 'this royal native.' The position of Saturn in Capricorn betokened loss or disaster in one or other of the places ruled over by Capricorn—which, as we have seen, are India, Macedonia, Thrace, Greece, Mexico, Saxony, Wilna, Mecklenburgh, Brandenburgh, and Oxford. Professor Miller expresses the hope that Oxford was the place indicated, and the disaster nothing more serious than some slight scrape with the authorities of Christchurch. But princes never get into scrapes with college dons. Probably some one or other of the 'hair-breadth 'scapes' chronicled by the reporters of his travels in India was the event indicated by the ominous position of Saturn in Capricorn.
A remarkable list of characteristics were derived by Zadkiel from the positions of the various planets and signs in the twelve houses of the 'royal native.' Some, of course, were indicated in more ways than one, which will explain the parenthetical notes in the following alphabetical table which Professor Miller has been at the pains to draw up from Zadkiel's predictions. The prince was to be 'acute, affectionate, amiable, amorous, austere, avaricious, beneficent, benevolent, brave, brilliant, calculated for government' (a quality which may be understood two ways), 'candid, careful of his person, careless, compassionate, courteous (twice over), delighting in eloquence, discreet, envious, fond of glory, fond of learning, fond of music, fond of poetry, fond of sports, fond of the arts and sciences, frank, full of expedients, generous (three times), gracious, honourable, hostile to crime, impervious, ingenious, inoffensive, joyous, just (twice), laborious, liberal, lofty, magnanimous, modest, noble, not easy to be understood (!), parsimonious, pious (twice), profound in opinion, prone to regret his acts, prudent, rash, religious, reverent, self-confident, sincere, singular in mode of thinking, strong, temperate, unreserved, unsteady, valuable in friendship, variable, versatile, violent, volatile, wily, and worthy.' Zadkiel concludes thus:—'The square of Saturn to the moon will add to the gloomy side of the picture, and give a tinge of melancholy at times to the native's character, and also a disposition to look at the dark side of things, and lead him to despondency; nor will he be at all of a sanguine character, but cool and calculating, though occasionally rash. Yet, all things considered, though firm and sometimes positive in opinion, this royal native, if he live to mount the throne, will sway the sceptre of these realms in moderation and justice, and be a pious and benevolent man, and a merciful sovereign.' Fortunately, the time has long since passed when swaying the sceptre of these realms had any but a figurative meaning, or when Englishmen who obeyed their country's laws depended on the mercy of any man, or when even bad citizens were judged by princes. But we still prefer that princes should be well-mannered gentlemen, and therefore it is sincerely to be hoped that Zadkiel's prediction, so far as it relates to piety and benevolence, may be fulfilled, should this 'royal native' live to mount the throne. As for mercy, it is a goodly quality even in these days and in this country; for if the law no longer tolerates cruelty to men, even on the part of princes, who once had prescribed rights in that direction, there are still some cruel, nay brutal sports in which 'royal natives' might sometimes be tempted to take part. Wherefore let us hope that, even in regard to mercy, the predictions of astrologers respecting this 'royal native' may be fulfilled.
Passing however, from trivialities, let us consider the lessons which the history of astrology teaches us respecting the human mind, its powers and weaknesses. It has been well remarked by Whewell that for many ages 'mysticism in its various forms was a leading character both of the common mind and the speculations of the most intelligent and profound reasoners.' Thus mysticism was the opposite of that habit of thought which science requires, 'namely, clear ideas, distinctly employed to connect well-ascertained facts; inasmuch as the ideas in which it dealt were vague and unstable, and the temper in which they were contemplated was an urgent and aspiring enthusiasm, which could not submit to a calm conference with experience upon even terms.' We have seen what has been the history of one particular form of the mysticism of ancient and mediæval ages. If we had followed the history of alchemy, magic, and other forms of mysticism, we should have seen similar results. True science has gradually dispossessed science falsely so called, until now none but the weaker minds hold by the tenets formerly almost universally adopted. In mere numbers, believers in the ancient superstitions may be by no means insignificant; but they no longer have any influence. It has become a matter of shame to pay any attention to what those few say or do who not merely hold but proclaim the ancient faith in these matters. We can also see why this has been. In old times enthusiasm usurped the place of reason in these cases; but opinions so formed and so retained could not maintain their ground in the presence of reasoning and experience. So soon as intelligent and thoughtful men perceived that facts were against the supposed mysterious influences of the stars, the asserted powers of magicians, the pretended knowledge of alchemists, the false teachings of magic, alchemy, and astrology, were rejected. The lesson thus learned respecting erroneous doctrines which were once widely prevalent has its application in our time, when, though the influence of those teachings has passed away, other doctrines formerly associated with them still hold their ground. Men in old times, influenced by erroneous teachings, wasted their time and energies in idle questionings of the stars, vain efforts to find Arcana of mysterious power, and to acquire magical authority over the elements. Is it altogether clear that in these our times men are not hampered, prevented to some degree from doing all the good they might do in the short life-time allotted to them, by doctrines of another kind? Is there in our day no undue sacrifice of present good in idle questionings? is there no tendency to trust in a vain fetishism to prevent or remove evils which energy could avert or remedy? The time will come, in my belief, when the waste of those energies which in these days are devoted (not merely with the sanction, but the high approval, of some of the best among us) to idle aims, will be deplored as regretfully—but, alas, as idly—as the wasted speculations and labours of those whom Whewell has justly called the most intelligent and profound reasoners of the 'stationary age' of science. The words with which Whewell closes his chapter on the 'Mysticism of the Middle Ages' have their application to the mysticism of the nineteenth century:—'Experience collects her stores in vain, or ceases