Astrology in Time and Place : Cross-Cultural Questions in the History of Astrology [1 ed.] 9781443895484, 9781443883818

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Astrology in Time and Place

This volume has been made possible with the aid of a generous grant from the Sophia Centre for the Study of Cosmology in Culture, School of Archaeology, History and Anthropology at the University of Wales Trinity Saint David, and the financial and editorial resources of the Sophia Centre Press. http://www.uwtsd.ac.uk/sophia/ http://www.sophiacentrepress.com/ http://www.sophia-project.net/

We gratefully acknowledge permission from Cambridge University Press to publish extracts from David Pankenier, Astrology and Cosmology in Early China: Conforming Earth to Heaven (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), pp. 436-40; and David Pankenier, ‘Did Babylonian Astrology Influence Early Chinese Astral Prognistication?’, Early China 37 (2014): pp. 1-13 (p. 9) in Chapter 1.

We are grateful to Brill for permission to publish material from ‘The Zodiac Calendar in the Dead Sea Scrolls (4Q318) in relation to Babylonian Horoscopes’, from H. R. Jacobus, Zodiac Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls and their Reception: Ancient Astronomy and Astrology in Early Judaism, IJS 14 (Leiden: Brill, 2014) in Chapter 11.

Astrology in Time and Place: Cross-Cultural Questions in the History of Astrology Edited by

Nicholas Campion and Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum

Astrology in Time and Place: Cross-Cultural Questions in the History of Astrology Edited by Nicholas Campion and Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum This book first published 2015 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2015 by Nicholas Campion, Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

ISBN (10): 1-4438-8381-6 ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-8381-8

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface and Acknowledgements ................................................................ vii Introduction ............................................................................................... ix

THE EAST: TRADITION, RITUAL AND TRANSMISSION Chapter One ................................................................................................ 3 On Chinese Astrology’s Imperviousness to External Influences David W. Pankenier (Department of Modern Languages & Literature, Lehigh University) Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 27 Ptolemy and Sima Qian in Eleventh-Century Japan: The Combination of Disparate Astrological Systems in Practice Kristina Buhrman (Department of Religion, Florida State University) Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 53 Transformations of the Social and Religious Status of the Indian Astrologer at the Royal Court Audrius Benorius (Director of the Center of Oriental Studies, Vilnius University, Lithuania) Chapter Four .............................................................................................. 67 Astrology and its Ritual Applications: Propitiation of the Planet Saturn within the Sun Temple at Suryanaar Koyil (Tamil Nadu, India). A Case Study from Contemporary Tamil Shaivism Mario Friscia (University of La Sapienza, Rome)

THE WEST: TEXTUAL ANALYSIS AND TRANSMISSION Chapter Five .............................................................................................. 95 A Study in the Early Iconography of Gemini Micah Ross (Kyǀto Sangyǀ University)

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Chapter Six .............................................................................................. 109 Various Renderings of ȆȓȞĮȟ in Greek and Demotic at MedƯnet MƗ‫ڲ‬i Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum and Micah Ross (University of Wales Trinity Saint David and Kyǀto Sangyǀ University) Chapter Seven.......................................................................................... 131 Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches: From Ptolemy to a Twentieth Century Addition to Kepler’s Harmonices Mundi Johann F. W. Hasler (Departamento de Música, Universidad de Antioquia, Medellín, Colombia) Chapter Eight ........................................................................................... 159 Homocentric Science in a Heliocentric Universe Liana Saif (The Warburg Institute) Chapter Nine............................................................................................ 173 The Difference between Methods of Natural Sciences and Methods of Religious Studies on Modern Astrology Gustav-Adolf Schoener (Leibniz Universität Hannover)

TIME: CALENDARS AND TRANSMISSION Chapter Ten ............................................................................................. 189 The Meaning of Time: Mesopotamian Calendar Divination Ulla Susanne Koch (Carsten Niebuhr Institute, University of Copenhagen) Chapter Eleven ........................................................................................ 217 4QZodiac Calendar in Relation to Babylonian Horoscopes Helen R. Jacobus (University College London) Chapter Twelve ....................................................................................... 245 Eternity in an Hour: The Astronomical Symbolism of the Era as the Maya Agricultural Year Michael J. Grofe (Maya Exploration Centre) Chapter Thirteen ...................................................................................... 281 The Journey of Calendars, Wind and Life in the Indian Ocean: A Malagasy Perspective Christel Mattheeuws (Department of Anthropology, University of Aberdeen) Index ........................................................................................................ 303

PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book emerges from work coordinated at the Sophia Centre for the Study of Cosmology in Culture, a research centre in the School of Archaeology, History and Anthropology at the University of Wales Trinity Saint David. The Centre has a wide-ranging remit to investigate the role of cosmological, astrological and astronomical beliefs, models and ideas in human culture, including the theory and practice of myth, magic, divination, religion, spirituality, politics and the arts. Much of the Centre’s work is historical but it is equally concerned with contemporary culture and lived experience. The Centre is responsible for teaching the University’s MA in Cultural Astronomy and Astrology, which takes historical and anthropological approaches to explore humanity’s relationship with the cosmos. Special thanks are due to the continued support of Dr Jeremy Smith, Dean of the Faculty of Humanities and the Performing Arts, Dr Kyle Erickson, the Vice Dean, Professor Janet Burton, Head of the School of Archaeology, History and Anthropology, and of all our colleagues in the University. Lastly, enormous thanks to the diligence and patience of our editor, Kathleen White. Dr Nicholas Campion and Dr Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum

INTRODUCTION CROSS-CULTURAL COMPARISON AND TRANSMISSION IN THE HISTORY OF ASTROLOGY NICHOLAS CAMPION AND DORIAN GIESELER GREENBAUM

The chapters in this book are based on the conference on ‘Astrology in Time and Place’, the tenth conference held by the Sophia Centre for the Study of Cosmology in Culture, now at the University of Wales Trinity Saint David, in 2012. The conference title had a double meaning. First, the practice of astrology depends on the coming together of time and place in a single experience. Second, the way in which it is practiced varies from one culture to another, from time to time and from place to place. Astrology, broadly defined as the practice of relating events on earth to those in the sky, is increasingly recognised as a global phenomenon. Its methodologies vary considerably from one culture to another, as from China to the Near East and to Mesoamerica. Within cultures it can be both innovative and conservative. In both India and Europe, for example, multiple schools of practice and philosophy emerged, yet earlier doctrines were not always discarded but existed concurrently or only changed slowly. We might then use the word ‘astrologies’ rather than astrology, as 1 we did in a previous Sophia Centre conference, in 2010. The 2012 conference brought together scholars with different specialities in order to consider manifestations of astrological theory and practice in a variety of cultures and periods. Asia is the focal point for four essays. David Pankenier and Kristina Buhrman consider China and Japan, respectively, and the extent to which both cultures proved resistant to, or 1

Nicholas Campion and Liz Greene, eds., Astrologies: Plurality and Diversity (Lampeter: Sophia Centre Press, 2010).

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Introduction

receptive of, influences coming from the West. Audrius Beinorius and Mario Friscia focus on India: Beinorius from a historical perspective in discussing the social and religious roles of astrology and astrologers, while Friscia takes a modern and ethnographic approach, exploring planetary propitiation rituals in present-day Tamil Nadu. Five papers explore the nature and transmission of ideas in Western theory and practice. Micah Ross and Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum explore the transmission of words and concepts among different Mediterranean cultures in the Greco-Roman and Late Antique periods. Micah Ross also provides a chapter comparing the early iconography of Gemini in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece and India, considering possible transmissions among some cultures. Johann Hasler moves from ancient Greece to modern France in focusing on connections between music and astrology, specifically the association of musical pitches to planets. Liana Saif examines the use of Arabic doctrines of astral causation to support a seventeenth-century defence of English astrology against its critics. Gustav-Adolf Schoener considers frameworks for understanding modern Western astrology’s cultural locus. Lastly, four papers consider calendars. In the venue of the ancient Near East, Ulla Koch looks at the history and integration of calendar divination with astrology, while Helen R. Jacobus examines connections between the Qumran zodiac calendar and the Babylonian calendar used in cuneiform horoscopes. Michael Grofe discusses cosmological cycles among the Maya, including astronomy’s role and the mythological significance involved in these practices, and how a modern epigrapher can best describe and interpret them. Christel Mattheeuws examines the calendrical practices of Central East Madagascar and its wider environs, finding that different versions of these calendars, in terms of relationships between sun, moon and stars, influence how electional astrology in these areas is practised. Dr Nicholas Campion and Dr Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum, Sophia Centre for the Study of Cosmology in Culture, School of Archaeology, History and Anthropology, University of Wales Trinity Saint David, http://www.uwtsd.ac.uk/ma-cultural-astronomy-astrology/ http://www.uwtsd.ac.uk/sophia/

PART ONE THE EAST: TRADITION, RITUAL AND TRANSMISSION

CHAPTER ONE ON CHINESE ASTROLOGY’S IMPERVIOUSNESS TO EXTERNAL INFLUENCES DAVID W. PANKENIER

Abstract Despite claims to the contrary, Chinese astral omenology reveals no discernible foreign influences on the theory and practice of astromancy. This article briefly examines the evidence of Babylonian influence put forward a century ago and concludes that there is no basis for the contention that Chinese astral prognostication was imported from Western Asia. A number of unique characteristics of astromancy as practiced in China are illustrated by translated passages from classical literature. One historical episode in the Tang Dynasty is cited as the only known occasion when SƗsƗnian and Chinese planetary astrology might have intersected, if only briefly. KEYWORDS: An Lushan, astral omens, astrology, Babylonia, Bezold, China, diffusion, planets, portent, SƗsƗnian, Sima Qian, tianwen

My topic is the imperviousness to foreign influence of early Chinese astrological theory and practice. Given astrology’s notable resistance to fundamental change wherever it is found—except in the case of conquest, colonization, and subjugation—you may have the impression that I am merely setting up a straw-man which I will then proceed to knock down ‘as easily as pointing to the palm of my hand’, as the ancient Chinese would say. After all, anyone with a passing acquaintance with the history of Western astrology knows how great a debt is owed to Babylonian and Hellenistic traditions now more than two millennia in the past. Why else would we still preserve in the 21st century the bizarre zodiacal Goat-fish, Capricorn, rather than substituting, say, a Submarine? To begin with, this paper discusses a long-standing but unexamined claim of Babylonian influence on Chinese astrology, mainly to show the claim to be baseless. Then there are some illustrative examples of the staunch resistance in

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Chapter One

China of basic astrological theory and practice to change of any kind, despite revolutionary social and cultural transformations. Finally, I will briefly review the circumstantial evidence for a unique intersection of Chinese and Western planetary astrology at the very highest political level.

Purported traces of Babylonian Astrology in the ‘Treatise on the Celestial Offices’ (ca. 100 BCE) Due to a studied neglect of the role of astrology in early China, for a century the received wisdom has been that Chinese astronomy and astrology owe their inspiration to Babylonia. This is because in 1919 Carl Bezold, a noted Assyriologist, published an article in which he claimed to identify specific Babylonian influences in Sima Qian’s ‘Treatise on the Celestial Offices’ (ca. 100 BCE).1 The ‘Treatise’, a summa of the accumulated astronomical and astrological knowledge in the early empire, is in Joseph Needham’s opinion ‘a text of the highest importance for ancient Chinese astronomy’ (and, I might add, ‘astrology’). Bezold, who claimed no Sinological expertise, based his study on Édouard Chavannes’ translation of the ‘Treatise’ in Les Mémoires Historiques de Se-Ma-Ts'ien (Paris, 1895-1905). So we are talking about the early days of European Sinology.2 So influential was Bezold’s 1919 paper, and so dominant the prevailing Eurocentric perspective with respect to China, that his conclusions have gone unquestioned and no attempt has been made to confirm his findings. Surprisingly, in his volume on Mathematics and the Sciences of the Heavens and the Earth in the monumental Science and Civilisation in China series, even Joseph Needham concurred, even though 1 Carl Bezold, ‘Sze-ma Ts’ien und die babylonische Astrologie’, Ostasiatische Zeitschrift 8 (1919): 42-49. 2 In part, Bezold was drawing on comparisons between Chinese texts and cuneiform passages earlier made by Morris Jastrow; see Morris Jastrow, Die Religion Babyloniens und Assyriens (Giessen: Ricker, 1905), 745ff. Of course, Bezold could know nothing of the late Shang Dynasty oracle-bone divination inscriptions from the 12th to mid-11th centuries BCE first excavated in quantity in the 1930s. It is only within the last decade that the Taosi altar platform (ca. 2100 BCE) designed for solar observations (and presumably worship) was discovered; see David W. Pankenier, Ciyuan Liu, and Salvo de Meis, ‘The Xiangfen, Taosi Site: A Chinese Neolithic “Observatory”?’, Archaeologia Baltica: Astronomy and Cosmology in Folk Traditions and Cultural Heritage 10 (2008): 141-8. This site is roughly contemporaneous with the earliest date proposed for the famous Babylonian MUL.APIN compendium of late-Sumerian astronomical lore.

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his project was conceived to set the record straight on China’s unrecognized contributions to the world in science and technology. No less surprising is that a generation later noted China scholars like Roy Andrew Miller and Edward H. Schafer also uncritically accepted Bezold’s study as authoritative, perhaps because Needham had explicitly endorsed Bezold’s view:3 It seems safe to conclude . . . that on the whole the Chinese nomenclature of the constellations represents a system which grew up in comparative isolation and independence. Such, too, was the mature conclusion of Bezold . . . who pointed out that it does not exclude the transmission of a body of Babylonian astrological lore to China before the 6th century BCE, which, as we saw above [vol. 2, p. 354], seems rather probable. Nor would it militate against the belief that certain basic ideas were transmitted about a thousand years earlier, e.g., the planispheric ‘roads’ which led to the system of the hsiu [28 lodges], the use of the gnomon, the recognition of the position of the pole and the equinoctial points, and so on.4

I suspect a major reason for the failure to seriously test Bezold’s conclusions is the Needham imprimatur. Needham must have found Bezold’s arguments plausible because diffusion in the opposite direction was a major finding of his study of technology transfer in Science and

3 Roy A. Miller, ‘Pleiades Perceived: From MUL.MUL to Subaru’, Journal of the American Oriental Society 108.1 (1988): 4; Edward H. Schafer, Pacing the Void: T’ang Approaches to the Stars (Berkeley, University of California 1977), 10. 4 Joseph Needham, with the research assistance of Ling Wang. Science and Civilisation in China, vol. 3, Mathematics and the Sciences of the Heavens and the Earth (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1959), 273 (italics mine). Previously (Joseph Needham, Science and Civilisation in China, Vol. 2, History of Scientific Thought [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969], 271), Needham had concluded, ‘the number of cases in which any parallelism of symbolic nomenclature can be made out is remarkably small’. See also (Needham, Science, 186) where Needham cites Shinjǀ Shinzǀ’s opinion, and later (Needham, Science, 254) that of Hommel, concluding, ‘the connection, therefore, was not very striking’ (Needham, Science, 354). For his part, Otto Neugebauer was harshly critical of Needham’s claim of Babylonian influence; see Otto Neugebauer, A History of Ancient Mathematical Astronomy (Berlin, Heidelberg, and New York: Springer, 1975), 1073; also Qiyuan Liu, ‘Yaodian Xi He zhang yanjiu’ (Research on the Xi-He Chapter of the Yaodian), Zhongguo shehui kexue yuan lishi yanjiusuoxuekan (Bulletin of the Institute of History, Academia Sinica) 2 (2004), 64ff.

Chapter One

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Civilisation in China, and the archaeology of the early dynastic period in the 2nd millennium BCE was still largely a blank slate.5 In essence, Bezold’s conclusion, to which Needham alludes above, was that 6th century BCE Babylonian astral divination,6 exemplified by the cuneiform texts from the library of Assurbanipal, left telltale traces in the Chinese astral omenology as represented in the ‘Treatise on the Celestial Offices’. Space does not permit me to discuss in detail the errors and false assumptions that undermine Bezold’s analysis, and in fairness it must be said that the material he had at his disposal was extremely limited.7 But for the sake of illustration, let me quote just one example from among the small sample of seven passages Bezold cited as dispositive. Babylonian text: ‘Wenn sich Irgendwer [Mars] der Großen Zwillingen nähert, wird der König sterben, und es wird Feindshaft sein’. ‘If someone [Mars] approaches the Great Twins, the king will die and there will be enmity’. Chavannes translation from the ‘Treatise’: ‘Quand [la planète du] Feu se trouve dans les Fleuves du Sud [Procyon, ȕ, Ș du Petit-Chien] et du Nord [Castor et Pollux et ȡ des Gémeaux], des guerres s’élèvent et la moisson ne pousse pas’. Original Chinese from the ‘Treatise’: 䋺⸗◦▦㽂᧨␄怆᧨䳏ₜ䤊 Author’s translation: ‘If the FIRE [STAR = MARS] guards NORTH or SOUTH RIVER, fighting breaks out and the grains fail to grow’.8

Assuming Bezold’s identification of MARS is correct, and overlooking his having ignored the Chinese reference to Canis Minor and lack of equivalence between the asterisms mentioned, the only discernible parallel is MARS’ position in Gemini. This example is not encouraging, and as I show elsewhere none of Bezold’s remaining six passages is any more

5

E.g., Needham and Wang, 177. I make a distinction between Babylonian astral divination and astral prognostication in early China, since there was no divinization of celestial bodies in China prior to the arrival of Buddhism. 7 My close analysis of Bezold’s arguments and examples is found in David W. Pankenier, ‘Did Babylonian Astrology Influence Early Chinese Astral Prognostication xƯng zhàn shù 㗇⌈埻?’, Early China 37 (2014): 1-13. 8 Shiji, ‘Treatise’, 27.1302. 6

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suggestive of borrowing than this one.9 At a remove of nearly a century, what Bezold found so persuasive in these examples is baffling: not one meets any reasonable standard of proof of cultural contact. To his credit, Bezold conceded the incongruity between his Babylonian and Chinese examples, calling it an ‘inexplicable inconsistency’. But convinced as he was, in spite of the evidence, that the Babylonian zodiac system and astral divination must have been transmitted to China, Bezold reasoned that the contradiction resulted from a reformulation of Babylonian astronomy after it somehow made its way to China prior to about 523 BCE. He ventures the following rationalization for his findings: If one rejects the attempt to resolve the discrepancy discussed above, there remains, as far as I can see, only one way out of the dilemma, which entails the following explanation. In ancient times the Chinese gave many constellations original names as groups of stars recognized as such, including some clearly distinguishable as figures in the sky, and that the Babylonians had independently embraced those having the same or nearly the same extension. The Chinese would then have become acquainted with Babylonian astrology, probably before 523 B.C., and adopted at that time the received figures as their own as best they could, while maintaining the ancient native Chinese names and underlying ideas. A legacy of this amalgamation is found in Sima Qian’s Shiji.

Bezold offers no evidence whatsoever in support of the ethnocentric conjecture that Babylonian astrological principles and practices had been adopted wholesale by an intellectually supine Chinese civilization. Neither he nor Needham asked the obvious question: cui bono? Where has such substitution ever occurred except in the wake of conquest, forcible conversion, and/or genocide, such as occurred in the Americas at the hands of the Conquistadors and missionaries? Bezold’s proposed scenario of the supplanting of sophisticated age-old Chinese traditions by an utterly alien scheme, from an unknown foreign entity, transmitted by a handful of merchants or magicians, beggars the imagination.10 In the case of the 9

Pankenier, ‘Did Babylonian Astrology Influence Early Chinese Astral Prognostication’. 10 As John M. Steele concluded: ‘Historically and textually, I see no evidence Chinese celestial divination originated in Babylonia; nevertheless, in both cultures the heavens were used to provide portents, and in both cases these portents were at times exploited for political purposes . . . there were clear differences between how the Babylonians and the Chinese conceived of celestial measurement . . . this would make [transmission] harder and does, I think, place the onus on historians claiming the transmission of Babylonian astronomy to China to explain how this

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adoption of certain technologies, such as the chariot and early iron smelting, there was undoubtedly sporadic contact with Western Asia from mid-2nd millennium BCE on.11 But the rapid adoption of new military technologies or materials, including the wearing of trousers for fighting on horseback arising from conflict with steppe-dwelling mounted adversaries is one thing, throwing out an established theory and practice of astral omenology in favor of an incommensurate alien system is quite another.12 Clearly, Bezold was in the grip of an idée fixe regarding the ineluctability of Babylonian influence on China.

Concerning Mars In contrast to Bezold’s isolated selections taken out of context, consider this section from the ‘Treatise’, which summarizes the prognostication principles concerning MARS and what was known about the planet’s movements. One observes the punishing materia vitalis (qi) to locate SPARKLING DELUDER [MARS]. [MARS] is the South, Fire, and governs summer; its stem problem was overcome’; see John M. Steele, ‘A Comparison of Astronomical Terminology and Concepts in China and Mesopotamia’, Origins of Early Writing Systems Conference (Beijing, October 2007) at http://cura.free.fr/DIAL.html#CA (accessed November 2012). Moreover, David Pingree and Patrick Morrissey concluded that the evidence ‘argues strongly against a common origin or even association of the twenty-eight Chinese xiu with the Indian nakúatras; see David Pingree and Patrick Morrissey, ‘On the Identification of the YogatƗrƗs of the Indian Nakúatras’, Journal for the History of Astronomy 20 (1989): 99-119. See also F. R. Stephenson’s detailed study of stellar nomenclature with ‘reference to the Shiji and later star lists, which show that correspondence between Chinese and Babylonian-Greek names for constellations is rare, emphasizing their independent origins’; F. R. Stephenson, ‘Chinese and Korean Star Maps and Catalogs’, in J. B. Harley and David Woodward, eds., The History of Cartography, Book 2, Cartography in the traditional East and Southeast Asian societies (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1994), 528. Compare Table 1 and Fig. 1b below. 11 As Needham and others have shown, for most of China’s history the technology transfer went the other way and included much more than just printing, the compass, and gunpowder. See, e.g., John M. Hobson, The Eastern Origins of Western Civilization (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). 12 David W. Pankenier, Astrology and Cosmology in Early China: Conforming Earth to Heaven (Cambridge University Press, 2013), traces the history of Chinese preoccupation with astrology and cosmology from the earliest times through the early imperial period, revealing the archaic origins of the concepts and practices briefly outlined here.

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days are bƱng and dƯng. When propriety is lost, punishment emanates from MARS {and MARS moves anomalously}. When [MARS] appears there is armed conflict, when it disappears troops disperse. One identifies the subject state based on the lodge [MARS occupies]. MARS is rebellion, brigandage, plague, bereavement, famine, war. If it retraces its path for two lodges [1318] or more and then dwells there, within three months there will be calamities, within five months there will be armed invasion, within seven months half the territory will be lost, within nine months more than half the territory will be lost. Accordingly, if [MARS] both appears and disappears together with [a single lodge], that state’s sacrifices will be terminated. If [MARS] occupies a place and calamity promptly befalls it, though [anticipated to be] great, it ought to be small; [if the calamity is] long in coming, though it ought to be small, on the contrary, it will be great. If [MARS] is south [of a lodge] there will be male obsequies, if north, female obsequies. If scintillating rays encircle it, reaching now in front, now behind, now to the left, and now to the right, the calamity will be even greater. [If MARS] duels with other planets, their gleams touching each other, it is injurious; if [their gleams] do not touch, it is not injurious. If all FIVE PLANETS follow [MARS] and gather in a single lodge, its state below will be able to attract the entire sub-celestial realm through Propriety. [1319] As a general rule, [MARS] appears in the east and travels through sixteen lodges before halting, then it retrogrades through two lodges; after six ten-day weeks, it resumes eastward travel, [to?] ten lodges from where it halted.13 After ten months it disappears in the west, then travels for five months in obscurity before appearing again in the east.14 When it appears in the west it is called RETURNING BRIGHTNESS, and rulers hate it. Its eastward motion is quick, each day traveling 1½d.15 Its motion to the east, west, south and north is rapid. In each case troops gather beneath it. In war those who comport with it are victorious, those who defy it are defeated. If MARS follows VENUS, the army is beset; [if MARS] departs from it, the army retreats. If [MARS] emerges northwest of VENUS, the army will split; if [MARS] moves southeast of it, generals on the flanks do battle. If during [MARS’] travel VENUS overtakes it, the army will be shattered and its general killed. If MARS enters and guards or trespasses against the GRAND TENUITY [PALACE], CHARIOT POLE, or ALIGN-THE-HALL (#13), those in 13 The passage literally reads ‘for several tens of lodges from where it halted’, which is so egregious an error the text must be defective here. MARS’S retrogradation lasts some 75-80 days and covers only about 20°. I suspect the ‘ten lodges’ has been transposed from the preceding lines, ‘for ten months’ appears to be missing from the first line. 14 This implies a synodic period of 27 months or some 797 days, compared to the modern figure of 780 days. As late as the monograph on astrology in the Jin shu (648 CE), MARS’S movements were still held to be problematical, Jin shu, 12.318. 15 Superscript ‘d’ stands for Chinese du, of which there are 365 in a circle, not 360 as in Babylonia.

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Chapter One command hate it. HEART (#5) is the HALL OF BRILLIANCE, the TEMPLE OF MARS – carefully watch this.16

If one is to investigate seriously the possibility of cross-fertilization between China and Western Asia, passages like this would be a good place to begin. My knowledge of Babylonian planetary astrology, however modest, does not make me sanguine about the prospect of proving any more than the most superficial resemblance. This is especially true in view of the fact that prognostications involving not just Mars, but Jupiter, Venus, and Mercury as well, overwhelmingly concern military conflict.

Portent Astrology and Jupiter in Early China In order to gain a better appreciation of the flavor of Chinese astral portentology in the late 1st millennium BCE, consider these further examples from the pre-imperial and early imperial literature. First, a typical prognostication involving JUPITER from the Tradition of Zuo (Zuozhuan), a 4th century BCE pseudo-commentary on the canonical Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu) which chronicles the events of 722481 BCE from the perspective of one of the ‘Warring States’ of the age. In the 8th year of Duke Zhao of Lu (533 BCE) the Spring and Autumn Annals records the destruction of the state of Chen by the southern state of Chu. The Tradition of Zuo elaborates: The Marquis of Jin asked the historiographer Zhao, ‘Will Chen cease to exist after this?’ and was told, ‘not yet.’ ‘Why is that?’ asked the Duke. [The historiographer] replied: ‘[The house of Chen] is descended from [legendary pre-dynastic ruler] Zhuan Xu. JUPITER was in QUAIL FIRE and [the dynasty of Zhuan Xu] was extinguished; it will be the same with the extinction of Chen. Now [JUPITER] is in the [MILKY WAY] FORD AT SPLIT WOOD [Sgr], [Chen] will be restored again. Moreover, the branch of the House of Chen which is in [the state of] Qi will obtain the government of that state and only after that will Chen perish.17 16

One commentator suggests that the ‘Treatise’s’ pithy conclusion concerning MARS from near the end (Shiji, 27.1347) actually belongs here: ‘MARS causes fuzzy stars [tailless comets]. Externally it governs [the use of] military force, and internally it governs [the conduct of] government’. Therefore, the ‘Treatise’ says: ‘though there may be a perspicacious Son of Heaven, one must still look to where MARS is located’. 17 Translated from William Hung, Combined Concordances to Ch'un-ch'iu, Kungyang, Ku-liang and Tso-chuan, Harvard-Yenching Institute Sinological Index Series, supplement 11 (Taipei: Cheng Wen, repr. 1966), Vol. 1, 623.

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The restoration of Chen by Chu occurred in 529 BCE, its annihilation by Chu in 479 BCE. A venerable historical-genealogical tradition and JUPITER’S location in its 12-year cycle are adduced as the basis for the prediction that the time of Chen’s demise had not yet come. The prognostication is explained in the Zuo commentary for the next year, as follows: In the 9th year of Duke Zhao (532 BCE) the Spring and Autumn Annals records a fire in the capital of Chen. The Tradition of Zuo adds: In the 4th month there was a fire in Chen. Pi Zao of Zheng said: ‘In five years the state of Chen will be restored, and after fifty-two years of restoration it will finally perish.’ Zi Chan asked the reason and [Pi Zao] replied: ‘Chen belongs to [Zhuan Xu’s element of] Water. Fire is antagonistic to Water, and the state of Chu [descended from Regulator of Fire, Zhu Rong] emulates Fire. Now the FIRE [STAR = ANTARES] has appeared and set fire to Chen [indicating] the expulsion of Chu and the establishment of Chen. Antagonistic [relations] reach fulfillment in fives, therefore I said ‘in five years.’ JUPITER will reach QUAIL FIRE [Į Hya] five times and after that Chen will finally perish. That Chu will then be able to possess it [Chen] is the Way of Heaven. Therefore, I said ‘fifty-two years.’18 Here, the Warring States period (5th to late 3rd century BCE) correlative scheme of the Five Elemental-Phases (Wood-Fire-Water-Metal-Earth) is invoked to explain the antagonism between Chen and Chu, based on their archaic astrological linkage with Watery and Fiery asterisms and corresponding quadrants of the sky. The spring appearance of the FIRE STAR, ANTARES, is said to be the cause of the conflagration in Chen.

A Planetary Alignment Signaling the Conferral of Heaven’s Mandate The following examples, a planetary portent and a cometary apparition, are translated from Sima Qian’s Grand Scribe’s Records (Shiji) and the History of the Former Han Dynasty (Han shu, 1st century CE). By the beginning of the Han Dynasty (206 BCE - 220 CE) it had become well established that a grouping of all Five Planets was the preeminent sign of the conferral of Heaven’s Mandate on a virtuous new dynastic founder:

18

Hung, 370.

12

Chapter One § “When Han arose, the Five Planets gathered in Eastern Well [lodge #22, Gem]”. Shiji, “Treatise”, 27.1348. § “First year of Emperor Gaozu of Han, 10th month, the Five Planets gathered in Eastern Well. Extrapolation based on the astronomical system [i.e., ‘calendrics’] shows they followed [the lead of] JUPITER. This was the sign that August Emperor Gao had received the Mandate. Hence, a retainer said to Zhang Er, ‘Eastern Well is the territory of [the state of] Qin. When the King of Han [i.e., Gaozu] entered Qin, the Five Planets, following JUPITER, gathered together signifying that [he] ought to gain all of the SubCelestial Realm through righteousness”.19

The sinocentric astral-terrestrial scheme underpinning these portents was based on the late Spring and Autumn period (722-481 BCE) political circumstances and as a result is topographically confined to China north of the Yangtze River. Indeed, the very basis of the correlations of astral and terrestrial fields is the analogy between the SKY RIVER (Milky Way) and the Yellow River (Fig. 1a), the entire sky being allocated to the ancient Chinese provinces. (No sign of Mesopotamian input here!) Compare this with the equally Babylonia-centered conception in the contemporaneous map of the world in the British Library (Fig. 1b). Here too there may be a hint of a correspondence between the Heavenly and Earthly Oceans, but that would seem to be the only point of similarity. According to Babylonian ideas, the [eight?] islands said to lie between the Earthly and the Heavenly Oceans connected the heavens and the earth. These islands form bridges to the Heavenly Ocean, wherein are the various animal constellations, 18 of which are mentioned by name. Thus round the heavens flowed the Heavenly Ocean, corresponding to the Earthly Ocean on the earth. And in the Heavenly Ocean were animal constellations, the [eighteen] ‘vanished’ gods. These probably recur in the expression ‘belt of heaven’, the Sumerian for which may be literally translated, ‘divine animals’. As the animal constellations also sank below the horizon, so the Heavenly Ocean extended beneath the earth, so that plenty of room existed below the Underworld for the passage of the sun, moon, and planets. After the overthrow of the old world order of Apsu and Tiamat or Chaos, the 19

Han shu (History of the Former Han Dynasty), ‘Monograph on the Heavenly Patterns’, 26.1301. The ‘10th month’ 206 BCE date for the event is an interpolation [erroneous] based on the date of the Qin ruler, Wangzi Ying’s, surrender to Han founder Gaozu at Xianyang, the Qin capital. The actual planetary line-up occurred the following year, in May 205. Sima Qian is more circumspect and simply says, ‘when Han arose’. For the theoretical statement that clusters of the Five Planets initiated by JUPITER portend the rise of a ‘righteous’ dynastic founder, see Shiji, ‘Treatise’, 27.1312.

On Chinese Astrollogy’s Impervio ousness to Exteernal Influencess

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former goods, according to the Babylon nian Epic of Crreation, were deeposed and banneed as animals to t the Heavenly y Ocean, by com mmand of the creator c of the new w world.20

Tab ble 1: The 28 Chinese C Lodges and their Deterrminative Stars.

20

For detaileed description and analysis, see s Monographh. The inscriptiion on the seventh islandd, outside the ring r of the Eartthly Ocean to thhe east says on nly, ‘where the morning ddawns’.

14

Chapterr One

Fig. 1a: Soong dynasty (9960-1276) plan nisphere on whhich the astral fields are labeled withh the names off the correspond ding ancient prrovinces, illustrrating their distribution in relation too the Milky Way W in the fielld-allocation astrological scheme. Addapted from Zhoongguo shehui kexue yuan kaaogu janjiusuo, Zhongguo gudai tianw wen wenwu tuji (1980), ( 101, fig g. 97.

On Chinese Astrollogy’s Impervio ousness to Exteernal Influencess

15

Fig. 1b: Babbylonian map of o the world (cca. 600 BCE). Cuneiform tab blet in the British Libraary. Babyloniann World Map.

Chapter One

16

The expansion of mainstream Chinese civilization south and west by the end of the Han Dynasty (220 CE) had already rendered those correlations hopelessly out of date. Nevertheless, the relevance of the scheme was still being debated in the Tang Dynasty (618-907 CE), when in a blatant expression of Chinese chauvinism the famous astronomer Li Chunfeng (602-670 CE) denigrated frontier peoples in his astrological treatise Yisi Prognostications (Yisi zhan) of 645 CE, baldly reasserting the validity of the exclusively sinocentric scheme.21 In the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368), Wang Zhen (1290-1333), in a chapter on land utilization in his influential Treatise on Agriculture (Nong shu), proposed a new scheme classifying the suitability of the entire country’s land and soils for agriculture and stock-raising in accordance with the twenty-eight lodges and the same twelve astral fields.22 Remarkably, even the prestigious Qing Dynasty encyclopedia of 1725, the Complete Collection of Illustrations and Writings from Ancient Times to the Present (Gujin tushu jicheng), continued to identify geographic locations in terms of the 2,500 year-old field-allocation scheme of astral-terrestrial correspondences.

A Cometary Apparition in the Former Han Dynasty 135 BCE Aug 31 - Sep 29: § 6th year of the Jianyuan reign period of Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty, 8th month; a star became fuzzy* in the east and stretched across the sky. [*xing bo = an initially tailless comet grew a tail] § 6th year of the Jianyuan reign period of Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty, 8th month; a long star [comet] emerged in the east, so long that it stretched across the sky; after thirty days it departed. § 6th year of the Jianyuan reign period of Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty, 8th month; a long star appeared in the east, so long that it stretched across the sky; after thirty days it departed. The prognostication said, “this is Chi You’s Banner; when seen the ruler will attack the four quarters.” After this the troops punished the Four Yi [barbarians] for several decades in succession”.23 21

Xiaoyuan Jiang, Tianxue zhenyuan (Shenyang: Liaoning jiaoyu, 1991 [rev. 2004]), 70. 22 Yoshida Mitsukuni, ‘The Chinese Concept of Technology: A Historical Approach’, Acta Asiatica 36 (1979), 60-61. 23 Trans. David W. Pankenier, Zhentao Xu, and Yaotiao Jiang, Archaeoastronomy in East Asia: Historical Observational Records of Comets and Meteor Showers from China, Japan, and Korea (Youngstown, NY: Cambria, 2008), 19. For a comparison of the Chinese and Roman accounts of the comet of 135 BCE, see J. T.

On Chinese Astrology’s Imperviousness to External Influences

17

In Oct-Nov 134 BCE, to commemorate (i.e., ‘spin’) what was actually an inauspicious portent, the youthful Emperor Wu was advised to inaugurate the ‘First Year of Primal Brilliance’ reign period. Meanwhile, his paternal uncle, Liu An, King of Huainan, was galvanized into seditious action based on the earlier precedent of the ‘Revolt of the Seven Kingdoms’ in 154 BCE: 6th year of the Jianyuan reign period [135 BCE] a broom star was seen. In the mind of the King of Huainan it was an anomaly [i.e., a sign]. Someone said to the King: “Earlier, when the army of Wu rose up [154 BCE], a broom star several chi [feet] long appeared, whereupon for a long time blood flowed for over 1,000 li [‘mile’ = 0.5 km]. At present there is a broom star so long it spans the sky, so the armies of the Empire ought all to rise in force”. In his mind, considering there was no imperial heir above and [seeing that] anomalies were occurring in the Empire and the various lords were contentious, the King [of Huainan] increasingly desired to fabricate weapons, [siege] engines, and instruments of offensive warfare. He accumulated money with which to bribe the lords of commanderies and kingdoms, wandering braves, and those with unique talents. The various sophists who devised schemes and strategies indiscriminately fabricated rumors and flattered the King. The King was delighted, handed out even more money, and his plotting to rebel grew in earnest.24

It is important to distinguish clearly between what is generally considered to fall within the purview of observationally based astral omenology, which concerns itself with divining the consequences of significant celestial moments (e.g., comets, eclipses, planetary conjunctions, meteor showers, meteorological phenomena) for the conduct of affairs of state. In contrast, Marc Kalinowski has explored the elaborate prognostication practices and their associated schema documented in excavated manuscripts from late Warring States and Han times. These concern the techniques and prohibitions involving yin-yang, the Five ElementalPhases, the ‘calendrical’ spirits xing-de, Supreme Yin (a ‘time spirit’), and others, and offer no evidence at all of observation of celestial bodies. The preoccupation is exclusively with hemerology, which concerns itself with whether each day of the month is favorable or unfavorable, or with the spirit influences active each day of the month, or with which activities Ramsey, ‘Mithradates, The Banner of Ch’ih-Yu, and the Comet Coin’, Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 99 (1999): 197-253; and also Gary Kronk, ‘A Large Comet seen in 135 B.C.?’, The International Comet Quarterly 19 (1997): 3-7. 24 Sima Qian, ‘Monograph on the Kingdoms of Huainan and Hengshan’, Shiji, 118.3082.

18

Chapter One

may be undertaken or should be avoided, or with prognostications for one who falls ill or is born on that day, and so on. Such preoccupations suffuse the rishu ‘day books’ Mawangdui Xing-De text, and other recently excavated bamboo manuscripts from the late Warring States and Former Han periods. They also permeate the Book of Master Huainan (Huainanzi), compiled under the auspices of the King of Huainan, whom we encountered above, a work presented to Emperor Wu in 239 BCE.25 The prevailing practice among its specialist authors was to rely virtually exclusively on schemata and devices like the mantic-astrolabe (Fig. 2) to make astromantic and hemerological predictions, rather than on direct visual observation.26 Cosmological and astromantic knowledge was valuable, not in the abstract but as instrumental in ruling the state, its application permitting the sovereign to conform to the Dao or ‘Way’ of the cosmos. As the Book of Master Huainan states: The ‘Heavenly Patterns’ [chapter] provides the means by which to harmonize the materia vitalis of yin and yang, give regular pattern to the radiances of the SUN and MOON, regulate the seasons of opening [spring-summer] and closing [fall-winter], calendar the movements of the stars and planets, know the changes of retrograde and direct motion, avoid the misfortunes of prohibitions and taboos, comply with the correspondences of the seasonal cycles, and take as one’s model the constancy of the spirits of the five directions.

25

‘In the Huainanzi it [Taiyin] appears as a calendrical spirit whose mantic virtues and power to control, initiated at the beginning of time, arise from the application of the sexagenary norm to the numbering of the years . . while Xing and De are ‘among a multitude of calendrical spirits (shensha 䯭䏭) . . . whose functions are always to confer auspicious or inauspicious qualities on some division or another of space and time’; see Marc Kalinowski, ‘The Xing De ⒠㉆ Texts from Mawangdui’, Early China 23-24 (1998-99): 157. See also John S. Major, Heaven and Earth in Early Han Thought: Chapters Three, Four, and Five of the Huainanzi (Albany: State University of New York, 1993), 87. 26 As John S. Major points out (1993, 122, 218), the mantic-astrolabe ‘was an abstraction and idealization of the observable universe, and thus suitable more for astrological than for astronomical purposes’. Here I would only note that I think the term ‘astromantic’ is preferable to ‘astrological’ for practices that do not involve plotting the positions of celestial bodies based on actual observation. See also Donald Harper, ‘Warring States Natural Philosophy and Occult Thought’, in Michael M. Loewe and Edward L. Shaughnessy, eds., The Cambridge History of Ancient China, from the Origins of Civilization to 221 B.C. (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1999), 849.

On Chinese Astrollogy’s Impervio ousness to Exteernal Influencess

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[thereby] enabling one too possess the means m to gaze uppward to Heaveen, effect com mpliance, and not n bring disord der to the constaancies [of Heaven].27

A rather diff fferent perspecctive on ‘heav venly pattern rreading’ is pro ovided by the military applications spelled s out in the Warring States text Sixx Quivers (Military Sttrategies) (Liuu Tao). This text t provides an idealized roster of specialist addvisors who made m up the en ntourage of thee army generaal staff.

Fig. 2: Earlyy Han mantic-aastrolabe from the t tomb of thee Marquis of Ru u Yin (ca. 168 BCE) w with the DIPPER at the center off the round rotaating Heaven Pllate. After M. Loewe aand E. L. Shauughnessy, The Cambridge Hisstory of Ancien nt China: From the Orrigins of Civilizaation to 221 BC C (1999), 840, ffig. 12.5.

27

Martin Keern, ‘Creating a Book and Performing it: T The ‘Yaolüe’ Chapter C of Huainanzi as a Western Hann Fu’, in Sarah h A. Queen andd Michael Puett, eds., The 4), 124-50 Huainanzi annd Textual Prooduction in Earrly China (Leidden: Brill, 2014 (trans. modifiied).

20

Chapter One

The so-called ‘Heavenly Pattern Men’ (tianwen ren) rank third in order of importance, after the ‘confidential advisers’ and the ‘strategists’. The duties of these ‘astrologues’ are described as follows: The three Heavenly Pattern Men have charge of observing the movements of the heavenly bodies, watching the winds and atmospheric phenomena, projecting [the auspiciousness of] seasons and days, studying the signs and verifying predictions, examining [the implications of] natural disasters and anomalies, to understand the mechanisms [sc. ‘triggers’] that move people’s minds.28

Even if the Six Quivers represents a retrospective idealization of the membership of the general staff in the early Zhou dynasty (1046-256 BCE), it is still instructive with regard to priorities in the late Warring States period when it was composed. Two things are immediately clear from this passage: the definition of Heavenly Pattern Men is extremely broad, and its practitioners enjoyed high status in military affairs. By the Later Han, Ban Gu (32-92 CE), compiler of the History of the Former Han, characterized Military Yin-Yang specialists by placing even greater emphasis on their mantic skills, many of which are far removed from general astrology: ‘The yin-yang [military] specialists comply with the seasons in setting out. They calculate xing-de, follow the striking of the DIPPER, conform to the Five Conquests, and call on ghosts and spirits for help’.29 At the same time, reliance on heavenly pattern reading was not without influential detractors. Sometime counselor to the First Emperor of Qin, Han Fei (ca. 280-233 BCE), famously derided all such practices: Initially, for several years Wei turned eastward to attack and finish off Wey and Tao. For several years later it then turned westward [to attack Qin] and lost territory. This does not show that the FIVE THUNDER SPIRITS, SUPREME ONE, the six SHETI spirits, and FIVE CHARIOTS, the SKY RIVER, SPEAR OF YIN, and JUPITER [all auspicious] were in the west for several years. Nor does it indicate that HEAVENLY GAP, HU’NI, PUNISHING STAR, 28

Kalinowski (1998-99, 134), quoting the 4th century BCE text on military strategy, Liutao ‘Six Quivers’ Liutao. Bingjia baodian, ed. (Shijiazhuang: Hebei renwu, 1991), 740-41 (trans. modified). 29 Han shu, 30.1768-69; Kalinowski (1998-99, 134). ‘Striking of the DIPPER’ refers to the belief that the direction/cosmogram to which the handle of the DIPPER pointed on the mantic-astrolabe was disadvantageous. ‘Five Conquests’ refers to the conquest sequence of the Five Elemental-Phases (Wood, Metal, Fire, Water, Earth).

On Chinese Astrology’s Imperviousness to External Influences

21

MARS, and STRIDE TERRACE [all inauspicious] were in the east during subsequent years. Therefore, I say that turtle and milfoil, ghosts and spirits are not able to assure victory, and that [positioning oneself] to the left, to the right, in front, or behind [them] does not suffice to determine [the outcome of] a battle. There is no greater stupidity than to put one's faith in this.30

The vehemence of Han Fei’s criticism is a reflection of how widespread and influential such ideas must have been in late Warring States and Han times. This is apparent from the Book of Master Huainan’s ‘Survey of Warfare’ (Bing lue), which says, ‘clearly understanding the motions of the planets, stars, SUN, and MOON; the rules of recission and accretion [i.e., xing and de], and the occult arts; the advantageousness of facing to the front or rear, or going left or right; these are helpful in battle’.31 As an example of such ‘harmonization with the rhythms and patterns of the cosmos’, Robin Yates says that on the advice of divination specialists, armies ‘organized their camps and formations according to the patterns of the stars and constellations in the sky. They emblazoned their flags and pennons with the signs of the constellations, the images of astral deities, and the Eight Trigrams’.32 This behavior becomes more comprehensible when one realizes that, in contrast to the Mesopotamian and Buddhist pantheons, astral bodies were not divine but a manifestation of the materia vitalis (qi) that gives shape to and animates the cosmos. It is this concept that underlies the Chinese understanding of the fabric of space-time in which everything relates to everything else, all partaking of the same qi whose operations Joseph Needham memorably characterized this way: [Materia vitalis manifests as] patterns simultaneously appearing in a vast field of force, the dynamic structure of which we do not yet understand . . . The parts, in their organizational relations, whether of a living body or of the universe, were sufficient to account, by a kind of harmony of wills, for the observed phenomena.33

30

Hanfeizi, ‘Shixie’ chapter, Xinbian zhuzi jicheng (Taipei: Shijie shuju, repr. 1974) Vol. 5, 88-89. Since Han Fei lumps together planets, stars, and spirits seemingly indiscriminately; the astrological principle behind this pronouncement, as well as the identities of several of the named spirits, are obscure. 31 Huainanzi, Xinbian zhuzi jicheng, Vol. 7, 255. 32 Robin D. S. Yates, ‘The History of Military Divination in China’, East Asian Science Technology and Medicine 24 (2005): 22, 33. 33 Needham (1969), Vol. 2, 302.

22

Chapter One

I know of no better definition of ‘synchronicity’, the term Carl Jung coined specifically to characterize the Chinese organismic concept. During the Former Han Dynasty (206 BCE-9 CE), trade along the socalled Silk Routes thrived, prompting Emperor Wu (141-87 BCE) in 138 BCE to dispatch Zhang Qian to explore the Western Regions. Central Asian trade then flourished from 114 BCE on due to the Han Dynasty’s projection of force into the area. If ever there was a time prior to contact with Indian astronomers in Sui (589-618) and Tang (618-907) when Chinese astronomy/astrology should have been receptive to outside influences, the Former Han Dynasty ought to have been it. And yet my study has disclosed nothing that even vaguely reflects the influence of West Asian astral divination on early China. Conversely, this brief account of fundamental aspects of astral portentology has touched on a number of uniquely Chinese characteristics for which there is no precise parallel in the West.

A Tantalizing Possibility of Astrological Convergence Between East and West Consider the heavens so high and the stars so distant. If we seek out former instances we may, while sitting still, have command of a thousand years of solstices.34

Study of planetary astrology in China and comparison with the Mediterranean world show the above conclusions about the imperviousness of early Chinese astrology to be equally true with regard to the ‘long export’ of planetary resonance periods in the later imperial period. Despite the prominent influence of Arabs, Indians, Sogdians, SƗsƗnians, and other Central Asians, in Tang China, the most cosmopolitan of all Chinese dynasties, foreign influence on state-sponsored astral prognostication remained negligible.35 The Scribe-Astrologers seem never to have followed up on the implications for forecasting of Mencius’ epigram above. Part of the explanation lies in the fact that the astrologers were also scribes and historiographers, and as Yü Ying-shih remarked: 34

Mencius (4th c. BCE), IV. B 26. David W. Pankenier, ‘The Planetary Portent of 1524 in Europe and China’, The Journal of World History 20.3 (September 2009), 339-375; also David Pingree, ‘Astronomy and Astrology in India and Iran’, Isis 54.2 (1963): 246. This was much less so at the popular level when it came to hemerology, divination, and popular almanacs, which proliferated from the Tang Dynasty on and introduced numerous Western concepts and practices which the official astral prognostication ignores. 35

On Chinese Astrology’s Imperviousness to External Influences

23

Chinese historians . . . recognized the existence of ‘historical trends’ or ‘patterns of change’ in the past. However, when they ventured generalizations, these generalizations are invariably limited in time and confined to a particular aspect. It seems never to have occurred to them that it was their business to establish ‘universal historical laws’ or theorize about the entire process of human history.36

Part of the explanation must also be that the Chinese consistently privileged the past over the present, and most certainly over the unknowable distant future. There was no Chinese Ptolemy, or MƗshƗ’allƗh (Jewish astrologer, d. 815 CE in Baghdad), or Abnj Ma'shar of Balkh (Persian astrologer living in the center of Zoroastrianism in Bactria, 786866 CE) to serve as cultural intermediaries, codifying, refining, and transmitting diverse traditions about the far future consequences of astral phenomena. When it comes to planetary astrology in particular, the impermeability of Chinese astrology to alien influence is truly surprising in view of the crucial role played by SƗsƗnians as intermediaries in transmitting to the Mediterranean world the theory of world ages punctuated by JUPITERSATURN conjunctions.37 China’s direct contact and involvement with the SƗsƗnid Empire (224–651 CE) from the Later Han through the Tang dynasty was, if anything, more extensive than that of the Latin West at all levels. Besides centuries old Chinese trade contacts with Persia via the Sogdians in Xinjiang (Chinese Turkestan), who were themselves Iranian, Persian seaborne trade with Southeast Asia was also extensive. SƗsƗnid merchants maintained settlements in Canton and other southern ports during the Tang Dynasty. In the north, Sogdians assumed Chinese surnames, filled important military posts, and held public office. The appearance of the seven-day week in Chinese almanacs beginning in this period is certainly attributable to the Sogdians, as is the introduction of the Western zodiac and several well-known compendia of planetary ephemerides and star lore.38 After the destruction of the SƗsƗnid Empire by 36 Yü Ying-shih, ‘Reflections on Chinese Historical Thought’, in Jörn Rüsen, ed., Western Historical Thinking: An Intercultural Debate (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2002), 168. 37 Despite the SƗsƗnians’ role as the conduit for Indian astrology to the Mediterranean world, that traffic in ideas was decidedly one-sided; see Pingree (1963): 246. 38 Edward H. Schafer discusses some of these cross-cultural contacts; see Edward H. Schafer, Pacing the Void: T’ang Approaches to the Stars (Berkeley: University of California, 1977), 10-11. See also Jao Tsung-I and Léon Vandermeersch, trans., ‘Les relations entre la Chine et le monde iranien dans l’Antiquité’, Bulletin de

24

Chapter One

the Arabs in 651 CE, SƗsƗnid royalty was exiled en masse at the Tang court in Chang’an (present-day Xi’an). Yet SƗsƗnian astrological history, especially integral numbers of JUPITER-SATURN conjunctions, their migration through the triplicities of the zodiac, and the epoch-making political and religious implications of ‘mighty conjunctions’, seemingly had no discernible impact in China. This is all the more remarkable because, in the first half of the 8th century, the work of the Imperial Bureau of Astrology and the Calendar was actually in the capable hands of renowned astronomers and mathematicians deeply knowledgeable about both Chinese and Indian astrological theory and methods. The first was the Buddhist monk Yi Xing (683-727 CE) and the second, the Indian Qutan Xida (aka Gautama Siddha, fl. ca. 720 CE). It was Qutan Xida who oversaw the compilation of the famous Prognostication Canon of the Kaiyuan Reign Period (Kaiyuan zhanjing) completed in 729 CE. In this comprehensive manual were collected and collated all the surviving ancient astrological text passages and prognostications, including the most complete versions of the Canons of Stars attributed to the famous 4th century BCE astrologers Shi Shen and Gan De. This compilation was the most important astrological compendium since Sima Qian’s ‘Treatise on the Celestial Offices’ compiled nearly a millennium earlier, and it is devoted to traditional Chinese astral prognostication. That being said, it is intriguing that it was the son of a prominent Sogdian military family and court favorite, the schemer An Lushan (703757 CE), whose mutinous rebellion almost succeeded in bringing down the Tang dynasty.39 An Lushan was a Zoroastrian, the religion whose astrologer-priests, the Magi (or Chaldeans), are well known in the history of astrology. His Turkish mother was reputedly a sorceress herself. After a long and chequered military career General An was able to insinuate himself into the Emperor’s good graces. He was doted on by the Emperor’s favorite concubine, Yang Guifei (719-756), to such an extent that he even became Lady Yang’s adoptive son. As a result General An l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 93 (2006): 207-45. Joseph Needham cites a revealing anecdote that underscores the cosmopolitanism of the time. In the Xiu yao jing commentary (764 CE) the seven planets are given their Sanskrit, Sogdian, and Persian names, and linked to the days of the week. The Chinese reader unfamiliar with the names of those days is advised to ‘ask a Sogdian or a Persian, or the people of the Five Indies, who all know them’; Needham and Wang (1959), 258. 39 E. G. Pulleyblank, The Background of the Rebellion of An Lu-shan (London: Oxford University, 1955).

On Chinese Astrollogy’s Impervio ousness to Exteernal Influencess

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rose to the highest militaary rank and influence at court and waas able to create his ow wn powerful frontier f defensse force comm manded largely y by nonChinese Khhitan and Tuurkic officers personally bbeholden to him. His allegiance too the Tang Dynasty D was purely opport rtunistic and decidedly d tenuous.40

Fig. 3: The pplanetary groupping between Sco-Sgr S as of 8 October 750 CE C (Starry Night Pro 6.44.3).

When in earrly October 7550 the five vissible planets ggathered in Scco-Sgr, as an alignmennt of all five planetary p ‘Min nister Regulatoors’ the eventt could be thought to carry dynastiic implication ns.41 JUPITER, SATURN, MARS, and VENUS werre merely a few f degrees apart, a and onnly MERCURY Y was far away.42 (Figg. 3) In Chinnese thinking g, as a possibble sign of a shift of 40

Kiyohiro Iw wami, ‘Turks annd Sogdians’, Acta A Asiatica 944 (2008): 64. The planetaary alignment occurred o in the 8th month (earlyy October) of th he 9th year of the Tianbaao reign period, or 750. It is reported r in the N New History off the Tang Dynasty (Xinn Tang shu), 333.865; Z-t. Xu,, D.W. Pankennier and Y.-t. Jiang, J East Asian Archaeeoastronomy: Historical H Records of Astronnomical Obserrvations of China, Japann and Korea (Am msterdam: Gord don & Breach, 2000), 247. 42 After sunseet on 8 October 750 the locatio ons of the planeets were as follo ows: JUPITER: 116h 39’ į -22° 6.7’ 6 SATURN: 116h 1’ į -19° 199’ MARS: 115h 59.6’ į -21° 48’ 41

26

Chapter One

Heaven’s Mandate, a mid-dynasty planetary grouping like this was particularly ominous for the ruling house, and the verdict of later history in this instance was that the planetary portent certainly foretold the fall of the Tang Dynasty.43 In seeming confirmation of the inauspiciousness of the omen, in the following year, 751CE, Chinese forces were decisively defeated by Abbassid Arab and Turkic armies at the Battle of Talas, marking the end of Tang expansionism and the beginning of withdrawal from Central Asia. Shortly after this, General An Lushan set in motion the devastating rebellion that he had apparently been planning all along. In 756 CE, after capturing the ancient capital of Luoyang, An Lushan declared himself emperor. The ensuing fighting, which cost tens of millions of lives, lasted from 755 to 763 CE and nearly toppled the Tang Dynasty. In MƗshƗ’allƗh’s astrological world history, On Conjunctions, Religions, and Peoples, written ca. 800 CE in Baghdad, it comes as no surprise that one event stood out prominently—the 19 March 571 CE shift of triplicity signaling the rise of Islam.44 The Tang Dynasty planetary conjunction of 750 CE came 179 years afterward, a mere sixty years from the next shift of triplicity, which theoretically ought to signal another world-changing event like the rise of a new nation or dynasty. What might An Lushan’s knowledge of SƗsƗnian and Chinese planetary astrology have led him to conclude about the impressive planetary omen he was witnessing? It is a safe bet that there was rampant astrological speculation about the omen’s significance in knowledgeable circles, based on both Chinese and Western precedents. I submit it is likely that An Lushan knew of the dynastic implications in the two astrological traditions when he decided to seize the opportunity to usurp the throne. Of course, this is not to claim this was the only, or even the principal, factor prompting the General to launch his bid, simply that astrology could well have played an important role in his thinking. The case is admittedly circumstantial, but this may have been the one and only instance when an otherwise impervious Chinese astrology coalesced with its Western counterpart, and at a pivotal moment in history.

VENUS: 16h 5.8’ į -23° 52’ MERCURY: 14h 26’ į -17° 40’ 43 David W. Pankenier, ‘The Planetary Portent of 1524 in Europe and China’, The Journal of World History 20.3 (2009):360. 44 This was the year after the birth of Mohammed, although the Muslim calendar takes its beginning from the hegira in 622 CE, fifty-one years later.

CHAPTER TWO PTOLEMY AND SIMA QIAN IN ELEVENTH-CENTURY JAPAN: THE COMBINATION OF DISPARATE ASTROLOGICAL SYSTEMS IN PRACTICE KRISTINA BUHRMAN

Abstract Although located at the extreme eastern edge of the Silk Road, Japan was still connected over sea-routes via Korea and China to points west throughout its history. Buddhist monks were a major conduit for information and technology from the continent, and it was through Buddhist monks in the eighth and ninth centuries that elements of Ptolemaic astrology arrived in Japan. This astrology, known in Japan as sukuyǀdǀ, adopted first Indian and then Chinese astrological elements as it travelled east. However, despite these Chinese features, it was not compatible with the Chinese state astrology (Ch. tianwen, Jp. tenmon) already practiced in Japan at this time.

Horoscopic Astrology in Eleventh-Century Japan Hellenistic astrology, particularly the variation that emphasises horoscopic charts, has enjoyed a wildly successful career as a global idea, acclimating and thriving in areas across a wide geographical swath and enduring over a long period.1 Although a separate method of dividing up the sky and of reading meaning and forecasting the future based on the sky had developed in ancient China and was shared by the polities of the East Asian cultural sphere, horoscopic astrology found a foothold in this area as 1

For a more detailed overview of the spread and accretion of ideas to horoscopic astrology, see Yano Michio, Hoshi uranai no bunka kǀrynjshi (Tokyo: Keisǀ shobǀ, 2004).

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well: not only in modern globalized urban culture but in the pre-modern world, too. How this method of astrology fared in pre-modern East Asia, what impact it had on conceptual models of cosmology, what influence it might have had on native models of astrology, or native models of astrology on it, are matters of interest in the history of the transmission of ideas. While horoscopes are attested to in the Dunhuang manuscripts from the Tang Period, there has been little discussion of the interaction between this method of prediction and that of tianwen (Jp. tenmon, “heavenly patterns”) or Chinese observational astrology as performed at the imperial court.2 By contrast, the popularity of horoscopic astrology among the elites of the Japanese Heian-period court is well attested: the works of Ptolemy (90-168 CE) and Sima Qian (ca. 145-86 BCE)—and works inspired by them—were used and were authoritative in eleventh-century Japan. At the same time, conflicts between practitioners of this art and those who specialized in official, Chinese-style methods of star-related knowledge are a standard part of the history of Japanese religion. These relate specifically to conflicts between practitioners of Sukuyǀdǀ and Onmyǀdǀ; which was itself a complex of purification, exorcism and divination techniques, largely imported from China and only tangentially related to astrology. What this depiction of the relationship between the fields obscures, however, is how collaboration can, and did, work across fields; likewise, how tensions among practitioners of the same field were as strong a force in the history of astrologies in Japan.3 This emphasis on the antagonistic relationship between two groups of practitioners and on trends that indicate the replacement or victory of one system or the other also veils how the patrons of both forms of astrology were drawn from the same population. In many instances, focusing on the patrons reveals that the 2

This may be an avenue for future investigation, as there were some figures such as Yixing (623-727 CE), a Buddhist priest who is known to have authored works related to astrology and who also worked, at least temporarily, with the Astronomical Bureau at the court. 3 See for example the discussion of Sukuyǀdǀ in Murayama Shnj’ichi, Nihon onmyǀdǀ shi sǀsetsu (Tokyo: Hanawa Shobǀ, 1981) and Nihon onmyǀdǀ shiwa (Osaka: ƿsaka Shoseki, 1987); Yamashita Katsuaki, Heian jidai no shnjkyǀ bunka to on’yǀdǀ (Tokyo: Iwata Shoin, 1996); and Mitsuhashi Tadashi, Heian jidai no shinkǀ to shnjkyǀ girei (Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijnj Kanseikai, 2000). Also see Kristina Buhrman, “The Stars and the State: Astronomy, Astrology and the Politics of Natural Knowledge in Early Medieval Japan” (PhD. diss., University of Southern California, History, 2012), specifically Chapters One and Two, for some conflicts found among specialists even from the same lineage.

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more enthusiastic consumers of one type of astrology were also active patrons of the other: this was true even as the two styles tended towards different targets for their predictions. That Chinese-style official astrology (tenmon) focused on predicting for the state (and on individuals with relationship to the state) and horoscopic astrology on the individual is a large part of Mitsuhashi Tadashi’s argument for the rise of individualism in eleventh and twelfthcentury Japanese religion; he furthermore states that Sukuyǀdǀ (particularly horoscope astrology) replaces tenmon (Chinese-style official astrology) as the major influence at court. As the following discussion shows, however, an interest in one technique did not preclude an interest in another; nor were the spheres of use as separate as the distinction might imply. While the competition over a common audience reveals the selfinterest behind some conflicts between experts of the two styles, it also opens up questions related to the reception of astrology. Both styles of forecasting involved determining the position of astronomical phenomena in the sky, but the cosmological systems differed in the details—did this fact have any relevance for the consumers of the results of the astrological arts? Attacks on or supports for the validity of astrology often focus on the cosmological underpinnings of the systems, the mechanics through which stars might relate to or influence human and political fates. But were such cosmological considerations relevant for most patrons or consumers of systems of astrology, at all times? In fact, did the adoption of a new form of astrology entail the adoption of its underlying cosmology? In considering the question of how many of the systems or their results were made to correspond with each other, it is key to determine on what level the adjustment was made. At the same time as horoscopic astrology was becoming established in Japanese court culture, in eleventh-century Japan, courtiers began keeping diaries recording their activities and information about current events and controversies, and this provides us an avenue whereby the reception and any logic used in selecting elements to apply or attend to from astrological reports by patrons can be investigated directly.4 Some scholars, for example Yamashita Katsuaki in Heian jidai no shnjkyǀ bunka to on’yǀdǀ, date the establishment of horoscopic astrology in Japan before the late tenth century. There is evidence, for example, that knowledge of horoscopes was circulating in the first half of the tenth century: references to natal xiu or lodges in courtier diaries, and texts, including an edition of a Ptolemaic or pseudo-Ptolemaic text, that 4

See Buhrman, “The Stars and the State”, Chapter Four.

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arrived in Japan through Buddhist channels in the ninth century. Despite such antecedents, however, there is ample evidence that horoscopes came to new prominence at the end of the tenth century and at the beginning of the eleventh, evidenced in references to courtiers’ first experiences with horoscopes (as discussed below) and the new prominence of Buddhist astrologers at court. From this investigation into the sources depicting astrology in Heian Japan, some of the processes that may have applied at other times and places of encounter between incommensurable styles of astrology might be also deduced. Horoscopic astrology, as developed in the Hellenistic world and transformed through its adoption and translation into multiple cultures, was not imported as a coherent practice in Japan: it took over 150 years for all of the components used in horoscopic astrology to arrive. This encompasses the time elapsed between Knjkai’s (774-835) return to Japan carrying the sutra popularly known as the Sukuyǀ-kyǀ (Sutra on Lodges and Luminaries) in 806 and Nichien’s (fl. mid-10th century) 957 return after having studied the Futian-li calendrical system in Wuyue. Both texts were used in astrology as practiced by Buddhist monks in Japan. Furthermore, the first horoscopes (as related below) do not appear in the historical record until after Nichien’s time.5 Because these components were carried over by Buddhist monks who had visited the continent, in Japan horoscopic astrology had a strong Buddhist flavor. The creation of horoscopes, in fact, was considered part of a larger complex of star and time-related practices known as Sukuyǀdǀ, literally the “Way of Lodges and Luminaries”, which included star-related offerings and the determination of lucky and unlucky periods for individuals or the scheduling of rituals. The modern adoption of this term does obscure some of the ways in which concerns related to what is now identified as Sukuyǀdǀ were broader concerns in Buddhism, and the usage of the term itself. While thirteenth-century sources refer to a debate about natal lodges as between “Onmyǀdǀ” and “Sukuyǀdǀ” in 960, this does not mean that the term Sukuyǀdǀ had the same meaning in the tenth century as it did in the thirteenth; in fact, usage of the term in the twelfth century focuses on a tradition of calendrics, not on astrology per se. However, as a larger term 5

The path that horoscopic astrology took, including how it picked up additions and modifications particularly in Indian and China, is the subject of Michio Yano’s Hoshi uranai no bunka kǀrynjshi. On the importance of the Futian-li system for calculating horoscopes, see Momo Hiroyuki, “Sukuyǀdǀ to sukuyǀ kanmon”, and “Futen-reki ni tsuite”, in Rekihǀ no kenkynj 2, Momo Hiroyuki chǀsaku-shnj 8 (Kyoto: Shibunkaku shuppan, 1990).

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that contains the practice of horoscopic astrology that concerns us here, it has modern utility. Western astrological techniques seem to have initially been sought out by Japanese monks because of their relationship to other concerns about time-keeping and astral influences based on the idea of the Seven Luminaries (the five classical planets, plus the sun and the moon; the assignment of these elements to a seven-day cycle in fact traversed the Silk Road and are attested to in Japan as early as the tenth century), the Nine Graha (the seven luminaries plus the Indian astrological bodies Rahu and Ketu), and the Indian lunar mansions or nakshatra: in other words, the Indian tradition of astronomy present at the Chinese court where esoteric Buddhism was developing.6 Some of the earliest references to horoscopes in Japan date from the late tenth century. In 999, a representative of the court attending a major Buddhist lecture and ceremony in the old capital of Nara received a horoscope from a monk there, and referred to it as a marvelous thing.7 The manner in which this courtier refers to the document seems to imply that he had not received one before; whether this was because of his relatively low rank at the time (indicating that horoscopes were the provenance of the elite) or because this type of astrological document was only becoming established at court, by the eleventh century the commissioning of horoscopes seems to have been widespread at court. For this reason, it is reasonable to mark the craze for horoscopes of the early eleventh century as the point in which this particular aspect of astrology became firmly established in Japan. As no Japanese horoscopes from this period of popularization survive, their contents and format must be deduced from later examples of the form. Only two examples of natal horoscopes have been identified from Japanese historical sources, one for a man born in 1113 and the other for a man born in 1268.8 Both include circular diagrams with five concentric 6

On this milieu and its influence, see Yano Michio, Mikkyǀ senseijutsu—sukuyǀdǀ to indo senseijutsu 2nd ed. (Tokyo: Tǀyǀ shǀin, 2013). That this was a larger and more generalized concern in Japanese Buddhism than just for astrological prediction, see the discussion in Buhrman, “The Stars and the State”, 214-219. 7 The courtier was Fujiwara no Yukinari, who appears also below. Gonki Chǀhǀ 1 (999-1000)/10/16, Zǀhǀ Shiryǀ Taisei Kankǀ-kai, eds., Gonki, 2 vols. (Kyoto: Rinsen shoten,1965). 8 Ten’ei 3 (1112-1113)/12/25. This one is has been published as document #908 in the Zoku Gunsho ruijnj compilation, but can also be found discussed in Yano, Mikkyǀ no senseijutsu, 190-194; Bun’ei 5 (1268-1269)/6/26, likewise discussed in Yano, Mikkyǀ no senseijutsu, 194-202. The full text of both can be found in Momo Hiroyuki, “Sukuyǀ kanmon”, in Rekihǀ no kenkynj 2, Momo Hiroyuki chǀsaku-shnj 8 (Kyoto: Shibunkaku shuppan, 1990).

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rings. In the innermost ring are the twelve “earthly branches” known popularly as the Chinese Zodiac. These signs do not mark parts of the sky per se, but are locked to the western zodiac signs, the Chinese translations of which form the second ring: Rat, the first of the earthly branches, is associated with Aquarius; Ox, the second, with Capricorn; and Boar, the last, with Pisces. The third ring on the horoscope houses the 28 Chinese lodge asterisms. That these are the Chinese lodges or xiu and not the Indian nakshatra is clear from their uneven spacing around the ring: this reflects the unequal size of these asterisms, in comparison with the even spacing of lunar lodges. The fourth ring is where the locations of the sun, moon, five planets and the Indian Rahu and Ketu astrological bodies are noted, in relationship to the zodiacal constellations and the 28 lodges. On the horoscope for the man born in 1268, combinations of three planets are also listed. As these are clearly not conjunctions, based on the position of the planets noted in the horoscope, they may be a manifestation of or variation on trines—more work on trines in the Japanese horoscopic tradition, however, needs to be undertaken. Trines do appear in some of the textual discussion in other surviving texts related to horoscopes.9 Finally, the fifth and outermost ring lists the locations of the Twelve Houses (in Japanese kurai or “position”, a translation of topoi), each of which line up in these charts precisely with one of the twelve zodiacal signs. In the two surviving horoscopes, these charts are appended with further discussion of the influence of the relationship between zodiac signs, houses and planets on personality, career and even lifespan. As to when both horoscopes were compiled, the predictive section only includes those for year counts above 40 (age 39), and so were probably composed around 1151 and 1307 respectively, at the earliest. Other fragmentary documents, identified as “running year” horoscopes by the historian Momo Hiroyuki and which provided personalised predictions based on transits and conjunctions for the coming calendrical year, lack these horoscope diagrams but do discuss the influence of planetary location and conjunction on the various houses for particular individuals, showing their relationship to the two surviving natal horoscopes.10 That horoscopic astrology as practiced in Japan was of a hybrid nature can be seen in the presence of Indian and Chinese astronomical concepts in the surviving examples—a hybridity that is only to be expected, given the source of its initial transmission to Japan: Buddhist monks who studied in China among Indian immigrants at the Tang court. The milieu in which 9

See Momo, “Sukuyǀ kanmon”. Momo, “Sukuyǀ kanmon”.

10

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Nichien studied the Futian-li, which was apparently necessary before horoscopes could be calculated in Japan, judging by timing of the first references to horoscopes at court and the numbers and references employed by surviving horoscopes, is less well known. However, an example in manuscripts discovered in Dunhuang indicate that by some point in the Tang Dynasty, an independent tradition of horoscope astrology, one that did not require the presence of Indian astronomers, was established—at least at some distance to the court. This tradition, then, may be equally important in the development of Japanese horoscope astrology. The Hellenistic origins of the practice, however, are not obscured in these texts: they are clearly present not only in the use of the signs of the zodiac and the Twelve Houses, but in citations from what is explicitly identified as a Ptolemaic (or pseudo-Ptolemaic) tradition. The horoscope for the individual born in 1113 explicitly cites a text that, in the Japanese pronunciation, was called the Isshi-kyǀ. This was a short name for the translation of “Ptolemy” into Chinese known as the Duliyusi (TLYVS, or Ptolemaois), although it may not have been the Tetrabiblos as we know it, but instead a text defined as belonging to the Ptolemaic, or Hellenistic, tradition.11 These citations explicate the meaning of particular planet and zodiac sign conjunctions; furthermore, the prognostication for trines are discussed, which is a clear indication of the Hellenistic tradition—in the Chinese tradition of astrology, it was only the conjunction of three planets that was worth noting, and no other geometrical arrangement of planets appears in that literature. The popularity of horoscopes among the courtiers is attested to not only by entries where courtiers describe acquiring them, but by some of the measures these elites took to obtain them: when a fire destroyed the records of one noble, he contacted others in an attempt to obtain the precise time and astronomical information of his children’s births in order to commission new horoscopes.12 As to why horoscopic astrology was popular among the courtiers of tenth- and eleventh-century Japan, the common explanation has been their personal applicability: by their nature, natal horoscopes, as well as “running year” horoscopes, were centered on an individual. As in the case of developments in practices related to soteriology in Japanese Buddhism of the time, this has been seen as part of

11

See Yano, Mikkyǀ no senseijutsu, 160-164, for the identification of the text. Found in the entry in the diary Shǀynjki for Kannin 2 (1018-1019)/4/9, Tǀkyǀ Daigaku Shiryǀ Hensanjǀ, ed., Shǀynjki, 11 vols., Dai Nihon kokiroku (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten,1959). 12

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the rise of the individual in Japan just before the dawn of the medieval period.13 Yet horoscopic astrology was not the only or, even arguably, the main form of astrology practiced in Japan during the eleventh century. Predating the introduction and development of Sukuyǀdǀ in Japan were the official court astral sciences, adopted from China when Japan, like many emerging states in East Asia, patterned itself on the Chinese imperial model. The emerging Japanese interpretation of the relationship between humans, the stars, and the future that might be read from them found in horoscopic astrology took shape within a context of a pre-existing and robust system of astrology already established at court. The question of how the introduction of horoscopic astrology might have changed or been changed as it was adopted into Japanese culture must, perforce, consider the role and nature of this other form of astrology prevalent at the time.

Chinese-Style State Astronomy and Astrology in Eleventh-Century Japan Another tradition of astronomy and astrology was very much a part of the Japanese state from the period of its organization in the seventh and eighth centuries, being part of the Chinese imperial bureaucratic model being adopted. The ritsuryǀ administrative law codes of the eighth century formalized the role of these astral sciences in the Japanese court: the Bureau of On’yǀ (literally “yin and yang”, but here an alternate term for divination) included sections for calendrical (mathematical) astronomy and sky-reading taken from the Chinese model, where the ruler’s ability to correctly interpret and predict the motions of bodies in the sky served as a demonstration of the Mandate of Heaven. The Japanese Bureau was not a perfect analogue for the Chinese Office of the Grand Astrologer (Taishi Ling) as it existed in the Tang dynasty: as Nakayama Shigeru has noted, it was much smaller and incorporated within it divination authority that in the Tang court was part of the Bureau of Divination, a separate organ of state.14 The two fields of astral science, calculation and observation—or 13

This is the connection and explanation found, for example, in Mitsuhashi Tadashi’s discussion of Sukuyǀdǀ in his Heian jidai no shinkǀ to shnjkyǀ girei (Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijnj Kanseikai, 2000). 14 The connection between rulership and astronomy/astrology can be found in the Book of Documents, where the section on the legendary ruler Yao describes ideal rulership as “observing heaven and granting time to the people” or producing a useful calendar out of heavenly motions. See Nakayama Shigeru, A History of

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Rekidǀ (calendrics) and Tenmondǀ (observational astrology)—although originally intertwined in China, had become in Japan distinct, even rival fields of practice by the second half of the tenth century.15 As the components of what would become Sukuyǀdǀ, including horoscopic astrology, were arriving in Japan during the ninth and tenth centuries, these two Chinese-style astral sciences—calendrics and observational astrology—were well-established and part of the official system of Japanese governance. The practitioners of Sukuyǀdǀ are often cast in the literature as rivals of the officials of the Bureau of On’yǀ. This is not only in modern scholarly literature, but can be deduced for Japanese tale literature from the twelfth century onward. Although Ashiya Dǀman, the legendary antagonist found in legends about the observational astrologer and magician Abe no Seimi (921-1005), is not explicitly described as a sukuyǀji or Sukuyǀdǀ practitioner, his identification as a Buddhist ordinand associates him with the Buddhist monastics who provided horoscopes and eclipse predictions to the Heian nobility. Most of their conflict, however, arose not in the divining of the meaning of astronomical phenomena, but in the prediction of the phenomena—most conflicts Buddhist monks had were with the practitioners of calendrical astronomy (Rekidǀ), not of observational astrology (Tenmondǀ). Many of the calculation techniques and practices in creating a horoscope and in creating an official calendar based on astronomical ephemerides are similar, and Buddhist monks associated with some of the first referenced horoscopes were also given special mandates to contribute to the calculation of the official calendar in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries.16 I would argue that it was less difference in the systems of mathematical astronomy that drove the conflict than the traditions that went into implementing each system. For example, the Buddhist monk Shǀshǀ, discussed below, seems to have been able to produce the same predictions that were produced by the official calendarists of the Bureau of On’yǀ: however, he differed with them over the matter of whether astronomical Japanese Astronomy: Chinese Background and Western Impact (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969), 17-20. 15 Kamo no Yasunori (917-977) was one of the last individuals known to have been an Instructor of both fields until the late medieval period. On the characterisation of tenmon as observational astrology, see Buhrman, “The Stars and the State”, 16 and 28. 16 A history of these collaborations, and how they broke down, can be found in Buhrman, “The Stars and the State”, Chapters Four and Five.

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events that occurred below the horizon (or that were “invisible”) had any force or applicability towards the fate of an individual. This is less a disagreement over systems of calculation than of traditions of interpretation; the proposition that “invisible” eclipses did not pose a threat and did not have to be announced had been established at the Japanese court in the early tenth century and was part of the official tradition.17 As a creator of horoscopes who worked with the twelve houses of Hellenistic astrology, however, Shǀshǀ could not agree with this aspect. Such collaborations, as well as fierce rivalry, make sense in that the tables used in Japan for calculating horoscopes were based on Chinese models of mathematical astronomy: although the tables used in creating the official calendar were from a different system of mathematical astronomy, much of the terminology and many of the techniques would have been common to both fields, and the skills utilized in one field, therefore, would have been transferable to the other.18 Although it has been argued that the Futian-li, the text of which unfortunately does not survive, showed some Indian influence in its underlying functions, examples of its use outside of horoscope creation show that it fit the general model of a Chinese mathematical astronomy system.19 In other words, it was not in the interpretation of astronomical phenomena that the practitioners of Sukuyǀdǀ came into public conflict with officials of the Bureau of On’yǀ, but in the prediction of the same. Such conflict was less an issue of disparate forms of astrology (models of interpretation) coming into contact as disagreements arising from different predictive traditions of mathematical astronomy. By contrast, Tenmondǀ or observational astrology did not rely upon mathematics. This is not to say that it could not work in tandem with the mathematical predictions of calendrical astronomy: certainly, with regards to eclipses, the Instructor of Calendrics predicted the eclipses for the year and announced to the court upcoming eclipses, and the Instructor of 17

Buhrman, “The Stars and the State”, 143-159. On the use of a separate system of mathematical astronomy, the Futian-li, for the creation of horoscopes and eclipse prediction, see Momo, “Sukuyǀdǀ to sukuyǀ kanmon” and “Futen-reki ni tsuite”. 19 Shigeru Nakayama, “The Position of the Futian Calendar on the History of East / West Intercourse of Astronomy”, in G. Swarup et al., eds., History of Oriental Astronomy. Proceedings of an International Astronomical Union Colloquium, No. 91, New Delhi, India, November 13-16, 1985 (Cambridge University Press, 1987); Momo Hiroyuki, “Hogen gannenn no chnjkan sakutantǀji to Chǀkan ni-nen no sakutantǀji—Rekidǀ, Sandǀ no sǀten to futen-reki no mondai”, in Rekihǀ no kenkynj 2. 18

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Observational Astrology would then craft a memorial of interpretation based on that prediction (of a type discussed in more detail below). However, it was not until the event had passed and the prediction (theoretically) confirmed by observation that the memorials of the Instructor of Observational Astrology would come into play. In its most basic form, this method of determining the meaning of phenomena in the sky was based on regular observation and the notation of changes. As in Hellenistic astrology, this meant that the planets’ movements into and out of regions of the sky were carefully noted; unlike Hellenistic horoscopic astrology, however, other changes were given equal, if not greater, weight: new (“guest”) stars, changes in star scintillation or color, auroras, as well as comets, are common features of Chinese and Japanese astronomical records.20 Methods of dividing up the sky also differed between Eastern and Western astrological traditions. All of the pertinent sky locations in the systems derived from Chinese astronomy were based on asterisms—none were relative to the horizon. Of the primary asterism-based divisions of the sky, particularly relevant to the motion of the planets, was the set of 28 lodges (Ch. xiu, Jp. shuku)—however, unlike the nakshatra lunar lodges of Indian astrology, the Han Dynasty set these at widely varying sizes, which meant that they could not be used to track regular day-units of lunar motion. There is some disagreement about whether these mansions were ever of equal length. Christopher Cullen, in a recent article, argues that they did not originate in a model of lunar movement.21 However, these lodges were used to translate the lunar lodges of Indian astronomy into Chinese, which led to some ambiguity and confusion in the field of Sukuyǀdǀ in Japan.22 The observational focus may account for the absence of more abstract divisions of the sky in this form of astrology; certainly, it allowed for a division of labor between those who calculated predicted astronomical conjunctions and those who interpreted them in Japan without compromising the basic nature of the field. The cosmology that underpinned this method of astrology in Japan was also different from that of Hellenistic horoscopic astrology, and developed independently. The practice of observational astrology in Japan was based on some of the older systematic works that had survived from that 20

These were also common features in Babylonian astrology, which had aspects of both observation and calculation in its tradition. 21 See “Translating *Sukh/Xiu and *Lhah/She—‘Lunar Lodges’, or Just Plain ‘Lodges’?”, East Asian Science Technology & Medicine no. 33 (2011). 22 Yano Michio, “Bukkyǀ kyǀten no naka no koyomi, Sukuyǀ-kyǀ”, in Murayama Shnj’ichi, ed., Onmyǀdǀ sǀsho vol. 4 (Tokyo: Meichǀ shuppan, 1993), 357-365.

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tradition. Sima Qian in the Treatise on Heavenly Offices (Ch. Tianguan shu), part of his Records of the Grand Historian, provided one of the earliest formalized rationales for prognostications using theories of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and parallels between celestial patterns and terrestrial courts.23 When the curriculum for students in the field of observational astrology in the Japanese Bureau was established by decree in 757, this work was the foundation of that program.24 One of the central aspects of this form of astrology was its state-centeredness: the “Heavenly Offices” in Sima Qian’s treatise corresponded to the terrestrial organs of imperial government, so that portions of the sky mirrored the political geography on the ground. While individual fates might be foretold in the sky, the justification for the astrology and the logic behind some of the connections made between sign and prognosis were centered on a pole-star monarch who served as the pivot between heaven and earth. The cosmology of this style of astrology was very much a political one. Yet the move towards a systematic and logical cosmology found in Sima Qian’s work was undermined by the practice of observational astrology in Japan. In the eleventh and twelfth century, Sima Qian and the treatises on observational astrology in the official Chinese histories still constituted the orthodox foundations of the practice in Japan, but in practice these texts had been replaced by compendia of prognostications from the Tang Dynasty, primarily the Tianwen yaolu and Tiandi ruixiang zhi. The continued orthodoxy of Sima Qian and the treatises from the Han and Jin Histories can be seen in the records of disputes the courtier Kujǀ Kanezane had with astrologers of the Abe lineage, as recorded in Kanezane’s journal.25 What this meant for Japanese astrology was that astrological reports tended towards the comprehensive: lists of all the prognostications for a particular sign from multiple sources were combined with a conclusion that emphasized the ambiguity possible when 23

A translation of Sima Qian’s treatise can be found in the appendix of David W. Pankenier, Astrology and Cosmology in Early China: Conforming Earth to Heaven (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), which also discusses the development of the theories of pre-Han astrology. 24 The other works were the two Treatises on the Heavens found in the Han and Jin Histories, a chart of constellations called the Sanjia buzan, and a divination guidebook now lost referred to as Han Yang yaoji. Tempyǀ-hǀji 1/11/9 kyaku, Kokushi Taikei Hensankai, eds., Ruijnj sandai kyaku Kokushi taikei vol. 13 (Yoshikawa Kǀbunkan, 1979). 25 Gyokuyǀ Bunji 1 (1185-1186) /1/12 and Bunji 5 (1189-1190) /3/17, Kokusho sǀsho kangyǀkai, eds., Gyokuyǀ 3 vols. (Tokyo: Meichǀ kangyǀkai, 1998).

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multiple authorities—as collected in a later anthology—were all considered relevant and correct. This can be seen in astrological reports that survive from the Heian Period, as the one translated below: Respectfully announced: This month on the twenty-third day, Yin-Fire Rooster: at dawn in the double-hour of the Tiger [3 AM – 5 AM], the moon eclipsed the secondstar of kui of the Southern Dipper.26 Respectfully searched: The Tianwen yaolu states: the moon is the spirit of the great yin, the symbol of a female sovereign. The Southern Dipper is the court from which the Son of Heaven, through virtuous authority, ensures smooth governance. Divination states: When the moon invades the Southern Dipper, in the palace precincts loose words arise and the grand minister is exiled. The Chifeng fubiao states: the small people cause a large battle. The wise minister flees. Two years do not pass. The Three Spirits Record states: When the moon enters the Southern Dipper, it hides the great wind and rain. The five grains are hurt by drought, and many people die from famine. Li Feng’s Mirror states: When the moon enters the Southern Dipper’s kui dipper, the honored person comes to grief. Thieves enter the palace. One year does not pass. The Tiandi ruixiang zhi states: When the moon invades the Southern Dipper, thieves enter the palace. It also states: Rebellious ministers revise the Son of Heaven’s laws. The time, if it is soon, is thirty days. [Even] if it is distant, three years do not pass. The Yisi-zhan states: When the moon enters and eclipses [the stars of] the Southern Dipper, the general falls ill. The noble woman faces misfortune. The period is sixty days. If [the period is] distant, a year does not pass. The following anomaly is respectfully announced and respectfully memorialized. Second year of Eiman [1166], second month, twenty-eighth day. [Signed:] Junior Fifth Rank (Higher Grade) Acting Instructor of Observational Astrology, Abe no Noritoshi Junior Fourth Rank (Higher Grade) Royal Attendant and Assistant Head of the Bureau of On’yǀ, Abe no Yasuchika.27 26

This is a designation in a 60-day cycle (kanshi) that combines the twelve elements of the “earthly branches” (Chinese Zodiac) with a yin or yang-inflected sign from the ten “heavenly stems” (the Five Phases combined with yin and yang). While this information could be and was used for prediction and divination, it was also a way of keeping track of days using a steady 60-day cycle in the face of variable month and year lengths found in a Chinese-style lunisolar calendar. 27 Yasuchika ason-ki Eiman 2 (1166)/2/28.

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Of the sources which appear in the above report, some do not survive to this day and are unknown aside from their appearances in quotations today. Of these lost sources, it is unclear whether they even made it to Japan as more than quotations in compendia which are better documented, primarily the Tianwen yaolu and Tiandi ruixiang zhi cited above. Furthermore, the prognostications are widely varied: while many of the sources do use a logic similar to that described in Sima Qian, of reading cosmological symbolism for the astronomical bodies involved in the phenomena (women, ministers, and other yin referents for the moon; the palace for the kui asterism), less specific but still severe misfortunes such as rebellion and famine also appear prominently. This particular report is of note because it, unlike most other surviving reports, was appended with a note that “proved” the accuracy of the prognostication: the illness and death of a retired provincial governor, which was linked to the specific prediction of “the general falls ill” from the Yishi-zhan text. That the report could be read in such a flexible way—selecting only one of many prognostications and substituting a civilian official for the military one— implies that the cosmological underpinnings of these predictions were felt only weakly and in the most general sense. Although there may be little evidence in records of the practice of observational astrology in Japan for popular or even regular engagement with a larger cosmology as found in early Chinese texts, this did not mean that observational astrology was easily displaced at court. As in the case of calendrical astronomy, observational astrology was an institutionalized part of the Japanese state bureaucracy; furthermore, evidence concerning debates over proper procedure in the twelfth century, and surviving astrological reports dating even into the seventeenth century, shows the tenacious nature of the practice. As popular as horoscopic astrology was amongst the nobles of the eleventh-century court, it did not replace or even significantly change the practice of observational astrology as preserved in the historical record. Given the disparate methodologies and difference in the practices used between the horoscopic astrologers and the observational astrologers, one possible explanation is that these two forms of astrology operated in distinct and separate spheres, and thus coexisted without interaction. This is an easy conclusion to draw, given the paucity of evidence for debates between astrologers of the two schools, in direct contrast between the well-documented evidence of conflict between horoscopic astrologers and the court's official calendrical astronomers on matters such as eclipse prediction and determining the length of months. Yet there is some evidence to the contrary.

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The lack of public debate between practitioners of Sukuyǀdǀ and Tenmondǀ did not mean that these two forms of astrology did not combine or interact in any way. On the contrary, both forms mixed and subtly influenced each other among the high-ranking members of the Japanese court bureaucracy. At about the same time that members of the court developed such a strong interest in horoscopes and their predictions—the end of the tenth and beginning of the eleventh centuries—individual courtiers began to study and collect observational astrology reports, and we begin to see the influence of this style of astrology on individual behavior.28 There was in fact interaction between these two forms of astrology, but it seems to have been located not among practitioners adopting and translating ideas from each other, but in the audience reception of astrological predictions and concepts. To examine the nature of this interaction, then, let us turn to one individual and his relationship with both observational and horoscope astrology, focusing on the occasion of solar and lunar eclipses.

Astrology in the Diary of Fujiwara no Sanesuke Fujiwara no Sanesuke (957-1046) not only lived at what was apparently the period of initial negotiation between multiple styles of astronomy and astrology, he was an individual who, according to his personal court journal, developed a strong interest in astrological practice as he aged. Sanesuke was a courtier of important lineage, the grandson of a regent, but one who, despite eventually becoming one of the two top ministers of the court bureaucracy, did not rise to these heights as early in his career early as the scions of more recent regental households. What Fujiwara no Sanesuke did possess, and what has insured his reputation among historians, was a reputation for scholarship, a critical eye, and a robust archive, including his own personal record of happenings at court and in the capital, the Shǀynjki. This personal record later became a reference for court history and procedure, and is much used by historians today. Currently, entries from this source survive for the years 982 to 1032, although many of those years are only partially preserved. The original source is thought to have been much longer.

28

Our knowledge of the practice of observational astrology is owed to these collections of reports to a large extent. On the structural developments that permitted the creation of these private archives, see Buhrman “The Stars and the State”, Chapters One and Two.

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At court, Sanesuke carved out a place for himself amidst younger, better connected relatives, as a sort of loyal opposition: quick to criticize (and record his criticisms of) errors in court procedure by his superiors and inferiors, yet he was not an individual who performed the sort of political manoeuvring that might have made him a rival of the regents, nor did he attempt to join their ranks or displace them. Sanesuke, and particularly his archive of material relating to court history and procedure, became known as an expert in court ritual and was consulted by the leaders of the court for his expertise. It was his role as a watchdog of proper governance and ceremonial that seems to have driven Sanesuke’s interest in astrology, as described in the historical archive, and particularly in his personal court journal. In the surviving entries of the Shǀynjki there are twelve records of lunar or solar eclipses, ranging over Sanesuke’s court career from 982, when he was head of the royal attendants, to 1031, when he had been Minister of the Left for ten years, and spread across almost all years of his journal that are currently extant.29 Over this fifty-year span, his journal entries show Sanesuke increasingly paying attention and concern to the matter of eclipses, corresponding to his growing interest in astrological and divinatory material in general. In the earlier entries, when he was still a low-ranking attendant to the ruler, these entries do not show much engagement with the eclipse as a sign, or what it might mean: these entries consist of repetitions of official eclipse predictions found in the annual civil almanac (as in the cases of the lunar and solar eclipses of 982), or the use of the eclipse as a punctuation and time-marker for his other actions that night (as in the case of the lunar eclipse of 1005). By 1012, when Sanesuke had become a confidant of the ruler, he began checking the predictions of eclipses against the actual event, as he did for the solar eclipses of 1012 and 1015 as well as for the lunar eclipse of 1015, and he 29

For the lunar eclipse of 982, Shǀynjki Tengen 5 (982-983)/5/2/14; for the solar eclipse of 982, Tengen 5/3/1; for the lunar eclipse of 1005, Kankǀ 2 (1005-1006) /11/15; for the solar eclipse of 1012, Chǀwa 1 (1012-1013) 8/1; for the solar eclipse of 1015, Chǀwa 4 (1015-1016) /6/1; for the lunar eclipse of 1015, Chǀwa 4/10/4, 4/10/12, 4/10/14, 4/10/15; for the solar eclipse of 1019, Kannin 3 (10191020) /3/1; for the lunar eclipse of 1023, Ji’an 3 (1023-1024) /11/7, 3/11/9, 3/11/11, 3/11/14 and 3/11/16; for the lunar eclipse of 1027, Manju 4 (1027-1028) /3/14 and 4/3/15; for the “invisible” lunar eclipse of 1027, Manju 4/9/16 and 4/9/21; for the solar eclipse of 1029, Chǀgen 2 (1029-1030) / 8/1; and for the lunar eclipse of 1031, Chǀgen 4 (1031-1032) /7/15, 4/7/16, 4/7/22, 4/7/23, and 4/7/24. The “ignored” lunar eclipse that, according to rumors, was to have occurred in the first month of 1031 (Chǀgen 4/1/20) was not included in this count.

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would continue periodically to make note of the accuracy of astronomical predictions through the remaining years of his journal. These “checks”— apparently performed under his own initiative and involving his own observations as well as reports from others (gathered occasionally, as in the case of the lunar eclipse of 1015, via his adopted son Sukehira)— served as a way for Sanesuke to monitor whether the correct procedures were being followed at court, which in the case of observational astrology was a matter related to the ideological underpinnings of a Chinese-style state. The year 1015 also marked a turning point in Fujiwara no Sanesuke’s relationship to astrology; it was in this year that we see the first signs of Sanesuke’s attempts to perform some of the functions of observational astrology himself, although not in any official capacity. On the day of the solar eclipse of 1015, the first day of the sixth lunar month, Sanesuke notes that not only did the eclipse correspond to the prediction recorded in his copy of the official almanac, but that it also effectively echoed a solar eclipse from 1002—a fact he knew from comparing the current eclipse prediction to that found in an old astrological report he had.30 The comparison of the current eclipse (about which the astrological report had yet to be presented) with a previous eclipse provided a way for Sanesuke to anticipate what would be in the official astrological report presented to the throne; this worked for Sanesuke, in part, because of the format of reports for observational astrology, which consisted of quotations from anthologies of prognostications, as discussed above. Such a technique on the part of the patrons of astrology, an attempt to bypass the astrologers themselves for at least initial information, did require access to previous reports, ideally in large number. To this end, we see Sanesuke gathering reports in 1015, as he had Sukehira—who at this time was an attendant of the regent, the normal recipient of such reports—bring him a copy of the astrological report for the eclipse once it was presented.31 When Sanesuke rose in rank, his attempts to procure astrological reports proved more productive: he recruited one of the court astrologers as a “houseman” or

30

Shǀynjki Chǀwa 4/6/1. An entry for the eclipse of 1002 (Kǀhei 4 (1002-1003) /6/1) does not survive from Sanesuke’s journal, so it’s unclear precisely when he obtained this old report. As noted below, it is not until Sanesuke was Minister of the Left, that he began obtaining copies of official astrological reports directly from the court astrologers themselves in an official capacity. How similar this previous eclipse prediction actually was to that for the solar eclipse of 1015 (as opposed to the similarity both had with regards to the date) is unclear. 31 Shǀynjki Chǀwa 4/6/4.

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client, and through him obtained a cache of astrological reports in 1019.32 After Sanesuke rose to the rank of Minister of the Right, he used his authority as a supervisor of the ministries of the court bureaucracy to receive reports from the official astrologers of the court, even when he did not have a private relationship with them to draw upon.33 The material in Fujiwara no Sanesuke’s personal journal shows a growing concern with eclipse predictions over the course of his court career, one which was supplemented by an engagement with prognostications drawn from eclipses once he joined first the personal retinue of the ruler, and then the upper levels of the Council of State. As secret knowledge related to the future of the state and the ruler, the circulation of information related to observational astrology was limited by law—Sanesuke’s interest in official state astrology may have predated his exposure to the actual reports, but despite his family connections he would have had few opportunities to see astrological reports himself before joining these elite circles.34 Once Sanesuke had even unofficial access, however, he took advantage of it, and gathered a personal collection of astrological reports to consult and study. He was not the only noble at court at the time to do so: in the summer of 1019, when faced with the appearance of a daytime star during a period where there were no official astrologers at court, the bureaucratic nobility began circulating copies of old astrological reports and made attempts to compose their own.35 It was against the backdrop of this interest in observational astrology that Sanesuke had what appears to be his first encounter with horoscope astrology. While Sanesuke was aware of horoscopes in 982, when he commented on the presentation of one to the throne, he did not receive one of his own until early 1000, according to the surviving entries in his journal.36 By 1014, after Sanesuke had begun to actively check the work of astronomers and astrologers, but just before he took steps to develop an archive of astrological reports for his own study, Sanesuke had begun to 32 Abe no Yoshimasa (d. 1119), who died suddenly just over two months later, and so did not live to benefit from his gift. Shǀynjki Kannin 3 (1119-1120) /2/5. 33 As seen in the case of the lunar eclipse of 1023, when Sanesuke receives the official report from Abe no Yoshihira (954?-1027). Shǀynjki Ji’an 3 (1023-1024) /11/16. 34 Specifically in article 8 of the Miscellaneous Administrative Laws (Zǀ-ryǀ) of the ritsuryǀ code. There were “leaks” in this system of secrecy, however, that developed over time (Buhrman, “The Stars and the State”, Chapter Two). 35 Shǀynjki Kan’in 3 (1019-1020) /6/10. 36 Shǀynjki Tengen 5 (982-983) /5/16; Shǀynjki Chǀhǀ 1 (999-1000) /12/27.

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write about the contents of horoscope predictions.37 Just as in the case of observational astrology, Sanesuke’s interest in horoscopic astrology increased along with his status, and by 1027 he had an established relationship with one horoscope-maker Shǀshǀ, a Buddhist monk associated with the great temple complex Kǀfukuji in Nara, and could call upon him to explain and elaborate on official eclipse predictions produced by the official astronomers at court. Fujiwara no Sanesuke’s entries about two lunar eclipses in 1027, one observable in Japan and the other which was predicted but would only be observable in the opposite hemisphere, shows clearly the influence that horoscope astrology had in astronomical thinking at the Japanese court. After Sanesuke confirmed the prediction of the first lunar eclipse that year, he sought out Shǀshǀ for information on the personal implications of the eclipse.38 However, Sanesuke did not observe the eclipse himself, given that he was forewarned it might pose particular danger for him. This is in contrast to his behavior with regards to previous lunar eclipses, where the text of his entries seems to imply that he observed the phenomena himself: at the very least, such a possibility is not ruled out.39 According to his journal, Sanesuke inquired after the meaning of such an eclipse occurring in the First House, or the topoi of fate.40 Shǀshǀ not only explained how the motion of the moon in eclipse out of the First House reduced the danger of the eclipse, but also included details on how the location of Jupiter in the sky further nuanced the prediction. Sanesuke was apparently impressed enough with Shǀshǀ’s performance in the spring of 1027, that when in the fall he was made aware of a potential lunar eclipse that had not been officially predicted at court, he consulted Shǀshǀ once again. Shǀshǀ explained to his patron not only why an official announcement had not been made—the eclipse was going to start at noon and finish before sunset, Japan time, and so would not be visible—but also what this eclipse implied in terms of the personal health of Sanesuke and the women of his household.41 In response to Shǀshǀ’s reading of this second eclipse, Sanesuke commissioned a multiday Buddhist recitation for the protection of his wife and daughter on top 37

Shǀynjki Chǀwa 3 (1014-1015) /10/23, when Sanesuke notes that a prediction is the reason he did not attend court that day. 38 Shǀynjki Manju 4/3/15. 39 Shǀynjki Manju 4/ (1027-1028) /3/14. 40 The literal translation of the Japanese in this case (honmyǀ-kurai), also found in the surviving horoscopes, is “rank” or “position” of fate, closer to topoi than “house”. 41 Shǀynjki Manju 4/9/16.

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of ceremonies to preserve his own health.42 While Sanesuke’s journal shows more engagement with observational astrology in the total number of entries, his apparent trust in Shǀshǀ and engagement with horoscope astrology from the period closer to the end of his career might seem to indicate that horoscope astrology was beginning to overtake observational astrology in the mind of the elites at court. Sanesuke and his direct lineage would later become major supporters of Shǀshǀ, although likely not the only ones, particularly with regards to a dispute over the exact date of a new moon in 1039.43 At the very least, the presence of both forms of astrology in the later entries of the Shǀynjki, for the second and third decades of the eleventh century, means that this source is a promising one for details of how these two types of astrology interacted. As there was particular attention given to the lunar eclipses of 1027 by Sanesuke himself, I will use these cases to tease out some of the details of this interaction.

Mutual Influence or Displacement Horoscopic astrology has been ascribed a great deal of influence on the practice of both astronomy and astrology in pre-modern Japan.44 The influence of horoscopic astrology on the practice of calendrical astronomy at court can be discerned in the interaction between Sanesuke and Shǀshǀ. In explaining the reason why the calendarists did not announce a prediction of a lunar eclipse (it would be during the daytime and not visible from Japan), yet denying that rationale with his insistence of its effect on the lives of Sanesuke and his household, we see early evidence of the public conflicts that would emerge in about ten years between Shǀshǀ and official calendarists over the implications of “invisible” eclipses on the mathematical calculation of the annual ephemerides.45 It was the prediction of eclipses that sparked most of the debates between practitioners of horoscopic astrology and those of calendrical astronomy, which was in turn the basis for the depiction of competition and hostility between these two fields, and thus between Buddhism and Onmyǀdǀ (the ritual and divination practice of the court astronomers), in the Heian Period. Shǀshǀ, with his familiarity with horoscopic astrology and subsequent adoption of the maxims that astronomical events occur below 42

Shǀynjki Manju 4/9/21. Buhrman, “The Stars and the State”, Chapter Five. 44 For example, in the discussion in Nakayama, A History of Japanese Astronomy. 45 While the details of these debates are elided here, a discussion of them can be found in Buhrman, “The Stars and the State”, Chapter Five. 43

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the horizon (as daytime lunar eclipses must), was operating under a different mindset than that of the official calendrical astronomers, who had developed a tradition that eclipses that were not visible in the sky should not be included in calculations.46 These two mindsets, one based on a hemispheric (visible) sky and the other with a spherical (complete) sky, came into conflict as Shǀshǀ criticized the predictions of calendrical astronomers. Yet the tradition of calendrical astronomy at the Heian court, including the maxim that only the visible phenomena mattered, had developed under the influence of observational astrology, which had an emphasis on the sighting, as opposed to the calculation, of astronomical phenomena. In this way, it can be said that the two traditions of astrology in practice at the Heian court existed in tension with each other, even if the practitioners of the two fields did not come into conflict with each other in the same way that horoscope-makers did with the officials in charge of calendrical astronomy. Another source of tension between these two forms of astrology can be deduced from the appeal that horoscopic astrology had for members of the court: in particular, the potential for personal guidance and recommendations for the avoidance of future dangers that the nobility saw in horoscopes. Fujiwara no Sanesuke sought out a Buddhist monk expert in horoscopic astrology not once but twice in 1027 for reliable information about the implications of lunar eclipses. For the first lunar eclipse, however, as it had been officially sighted, Sanesuke could have interpreted the implications of the event using the official memorial from the court’s observational astrologers. For other astronomical phenomena, from the evidence of his engagement with observational astrology in his journal, it seems that Sanesuke did just that. Yet an example of an observational astrology report for a lunar eclipse shows the shortcomings of that approach: Respectfully memorialized: On the fourteenth day of this month, yin-earth snake,47 in the double-hour of the ox [roughly 1 – 3 AM] there was a lunar eclipse. [The moon] was in the lodge Spirit. (5/15ths eclipsed). Respectfully searched: The Tianwen yaolu states that the moon is the spirit of great yin and the sign of female rulers. Jing Fang says: lunar eclipse, flood and rebellion. Many of the five classes die. The Diran states: The moon is eclipsed from the side. This accords to the order of Heaven. It also states: Lunar eclipses 46 47

See note 17. See note 26.

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Chapter Two are a warning to ranking women from heaven. It also states: winder lunar eclipses means that a woman of that state will die. The Tianwen lu states: Lunar eclipse, illness for the king of that land. It does not take more than three years. Sanmo Sima states: The moon stands for the general. It also states: Bad things for the ruler. The Tiandi ruixiang zhi states: The moon is eclipsed from the side, bad things for the minister. Also, rebellion under heaven. The common people die of famine. The Yisi zhan states: Lunar eclipse on the fourteenth day. Rebellion under heaven. The Hetu states: lunar eclipse on the day of the full moon, heavenly fires burn all things. The female ruler dies. The divination of a lack of moonlight in the month of Small Cold is grief for women of the palace.48 The above divination is for a lunar eclipse. This eclipse, if it truly sighted, signals a heavenly disaster and thus we respectfully announce and are heard. Kǀhei 3 [1060-1061], 12th month, 16th day Acting Supernumerary Instructor of Astrology Senior Sixth Rank (Higher Grade) Abe no ason Chikamune Acting Head of the Bureau of On’yǀ and Instructor of Astronomy Junior Fifth Rank (Higher Grade) […] Abe no ason Norichika49

While individuals do appear in the above report, they are designated only in relationship to the state: “the minister” or “the female ruler” or “a woman of the state”. For specific information, such as which minister or which woman—or, more to the point, whether Sanesuke or any other highranking noble was the minister indicated—the format of the observational astrology report was not particularly useful. By contrast, horoscope astrology in Japan was always individual, based on a birth date and time. While horoscopic astrology has the capabilities necessary for calculating a horoscope for events as well as individuals, provided that the time is specific, and these are attested to in examples of the art from other cultures, in Japan the temporal-based interpretation of events was based on another form of mathematical astrology, the Six Yang-Water Divination

48

Some of the texts and authorities cited in this report are known and extant, and others are not. Some of the names may in fact have become garbled through the copying and recopying of the text over the years. Not all of the texts seem to have been known in Japan: many of the citations seem to have been pulled from the texts of Tianwen yaolu and Tiandi ruixiang zhi which survive today only in part; these reports were in many ways collections of citations from secondary sources. 49 Chǀya gunsai vol. 15, Kondǀ Heijǀ and Kondǀ Keizǀ, eds., Shiseki shnjran vol. 18 (Kondǀ shuppan, 1901), 314.

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Method (Ch. liuren shizhan, Jp. rikujin shikisen).50 This is the reason why it has been thought that horoscopic astrology displaced observational astrology, not at court, where it was ensconced in the legal structure of the bureaucracy, but among the Japanese elite of the eleventh and twelfth centuries.51 Certainly, about the same time as Sanesuke was reaching the peak of his involvement with eclipse predictions in 1015, another courtier from a different branch of the same clan, Fujiwara no Yorinaga, noted in his journal of special precautions he took when faced with an eclipse that occurred in his natal asterism, as according to his own horoscope.52 Yorinaga’s behavior is in fact more dramatic than it might seem to someone used to horoscopic astrology: just as lunar eclipses were considered relating to the concept of yin, as emphasized in the observational astrology report quoted above, so solar eclipses were considered pertinent to yang. As women and ministers were yin, so the ruler himself was in this relationship the embodiment of yang.53 In Japanese court procedure, solar eclipses triggered the cessation of court business and the isolation of the ruler, as they proved a particular danger in observational astrology. For Yorinaga to take this solar eclipse as a personal sign is thus an innovation which seems to have come from the role eclipses could have in personal horoscopes. 50

A study covering the history of this form of divination in China is H. P. Yoke, Chinese Mathematical Astrology: Reaching Out to the Stars (London: Routledge, 2004), Chapter Five. 51 The “replacement” of the “older” style of official astrology with the more personalized “Buddhist” horoscope style is a major point in the argument in Mitsuhashi Tadashi, Heian jidai no shinkǀ to shnjkyǀ girei (Yagi shoten, 2000), 539-596, where it is tied to the rise of the individual in Japanese religion, specifically Buddhism, more generally. 52 Gonki Chǀhǀ 4 (1015-1016) /7/2. This asterism was not one of the twelve signs of the Zodiac, but instead one of the twenty-eight Chinese lodges. The displacement of the Zodiac signs by the Chinese lodge asterisms for natal constellations is a subject that deserves further attention with regard to the process by which it occurred and its further influence on horoscope astrology, but cannot be addressed here. 53 While a man would be normally understood as “yang”, the association of men with “yang” could be flipped depending on other reference points, as in the case of ministers associated with “yin”. In that case, as the ruler is more absolutely “yang”, the minister becomes “yin”. The flexible nature of yin-yang relationships is perhaps best explained in Angela Zito, Of Body & Brush: Grand Sacrifice as Text/Performance in Eighteenth-Century China (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997).

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Yet Yorinaga’s attitude towards solar eclipses was not the only one possible after the rise of horoscope astrology at court: Sanesuke’s journal, by contrast, shows the continued pertinence that the interpretation of solar eclipses derived from observational astrology had for some. The only personal rituals that Sanesuke undertakes on the day of a solar eclipse are best understood not as a reaction to the eclipse itself, but instead regular or occasional Buddhist rituals undertaken for other reasons. This did not mean that the benefit of such rituals might not apply to any danger posed by an eclipse, but instead that they were not motivated by an understanding of the personal danger (or lack thereof) of any particular astronomical phenomena, as interpreted through horoscope astrology. For example, in the case of the solar eclipse of 1018, the entry relates that he undertook the construction of small stone pagodas—however, this should not be read as related to the eclipse, as other entries show that this was in fact a regular Buddhist devotional practice that he undertook on the first of the month at that point in his life.54 Likewise, although the entry for the day of the 1029 solar eclipse relates that Sanesuke had commissioned a Buddhist recitation for that day, this is explicitly related in the text to a dream Sanesuke had previous experience—there is no direct relationship to the eclipse itself. Despite the fact that Sanesuke is an enthusiastic patron of horoscope astrology by 1018, and certainly before 1029, he does not seem to adopt the proposition that solar eclipses posed a personal danger. This can be attributed to a continued influence of observational astrology on Sanesuke’s mindset. Sanesuke’s behavior with regards to the second, “invisible”, lunar eclipse of 1027 can be read in this way as well. In fact, it is Sanesuke’s response to the lunar eclipses of 1027 that makes clear the influence that observational astrology had on his perception of the meaning of events. Although Sanesuke retrieved information about the eclipse from Shǀshǀ, a horoscope astrologer, he commissioned protective rituals not only for himself but also for two women of his household, his primary consort and beloved daughter.55 There are not enough details in Sanesuke’s diary to 54

For example, based on entries from the Shǀynjki he constructs such pagodas on Kannin 2 (1018-1019) /6/1, Kannin 2/10/1, Kannin 2/12/1, Kannin 2/12/30 (for the first day of the new year, the next day); Kannin 3 (1019-1020) /2/2 (with a note that the practice was delayed a day), Kannin 3/3/1, Kannin 3/6/1, Kannin 3/9/1, Kannin 3/11/1, and Kannin 3/12/1, or at least eleven times in a two year span. This was, at least for a while, a regular practice of Sanesuke’s. The entry for Kannin 3/3/1 is prefaced by note that he had not had a confirmation sighting of the predicted eclipse. 55 Shǀynjki Manju 4/9/16.

Ptolemy and Sima Qian in Eleventh-Century Japan

51

reveal what House the lunar eclipse occurred in, according to Shǀshǀ’s predictions, but we need not assume that it occurred in either the Fourth House or in some asterism that would have indicated particular danger for these two women: there is enough information in the observational astrology report to indicate why Sanesuke would single out the women of his household, not his male relatives or dependents, as needing special protection. Just as lunar eclipses may have been of particular interest to Sanesuke in these years because he was Minister of the Right, and thus a “minister” as identified in observational astrology reports, so too might these two women close to Sanesuke have been indicated, in his mind, by the “women” of the observational astrology reports. As his own journal reveals, Sanesuke was gathering a collection of observational astrology reports at least as early as 1015, and possibly as early as 1002. In other words, Fujiwara no Sanesuke was, in 1027, a known reader and critic of reports from observational astrology. This is a more proximate source for his concern about the women close to him, tied to the aspect of yin just as the moon was the astrological symbol of yin, than any hypothetical result from horoscope astrology. Thus a few conclusions can be drawn from the early decades of the period in which Chinese-style observational astrology and Hellenisticderived horoscope astrology co-existed at the Heian court. The case of Fujiwara no Sanesuke shows the ways in which these two astrologies could operate both on an individual: a case of mutual influence. Sanesuke’s interest in horoscope astrology did not replace or even displace his involvement in trying to understand observational astrology. Instead, his knowledge of observational astrology nuanced his reception of the forecast produced by horoscope astrology, as well as vice versa. The accounts of Sanesuke’s responses to astronomical phenomena, as preserved in his journal, indicate that the explicit connection between lunar eclipses and ministers or women of the household (and that of solar eclipses to yang and rulers) tempered his understanding of the relevance of eclipses as relevant to his personal life and fate: in the case of lunar eclipses, strengthening his sense of their importance for his personal fate and his reactions to the threat posed; in the case of solar eclipses, it seems to have given him a sense of insulation from personal danger, even as he monitored solar eclipses as signs of dangers facing his ruler. Sanesuke personally rejected the idea that solar eclipses had influence on him, in accordance with the symbolic position of observational astrology; yet his understanding of the influence lunar eclipses might have on his individual household was modified through information of natal asterisms and Houses, derived from horoscopic astrology. This case shows that although

52

Chapter Two

individual astrologers from each camp might fight, within the mind of one member of the audience and clientele for astrology, they could be made to agree. In other words, a new depiction of the relationship between two disparate forms of astrology emerges. In discussing how different forms of astrology are made to accommodate each other or are transferred to new cultural contexts, the examination of not only treatises and translations, but also sources that reveal the reception of astrological pronouncements, are therefore key. Yet Fujiwara no Sanesuke’s method of accommodation was not the only one, as the brief treatment of material from the journal of Fujiwara no Yorinaga shows. In contrast to Sanesuke, Yorinaga treated a solar eclipse as an event that had personal importance and presented danger to himself as an individual, based on what information he had received from horoscopic astrology. In the place of Sanesuke’s mutual influence, Yorinaga seems to have prioritized horoscope astrology over observational astrology, at least with regard to pronouncements about his own fate as an individual. This shows the variation possible in the reception of astrology, even in a comparison between the attitudes of two members of the same social milieu and broadly equivalent status. Yorinaga was more associated with personal service to the court as a literatus than Sanesuke, who was more closely tied to the royal bureaucracy and officialdom. Taken broadly, however, both were high-ranking members of the Fujiwara nobility, and a class apart from many of the urban denizens of Kyoto at the time. So long as the practitioners of astrology were not coordinated, or one form had not displaced the other, there would remain a number of ways that individuals would combine the two forms in the place. Although Fujiwara no Sanesuke and Yorinaga are only two examples among a larger audience, given the number of elite patrons of both forms of astrology in late classical and early medieval Japan, more systems of accommodation or priority should be further discernable in other personal records of individual interactions with astrology.

CHAPTER THREE TRANSFORMATIONS OF THE SOCIAL AND RELIGIOUS STATUS OF THE INDIAN ASTROLOGER AT THE ROYAL COURT AUDRIUS BEINORIUS

Abstract This chapter investigates the social and religious status of the astrologer at the royal court and in medieval Indian society. This paper is confined to the social and religious role of astrology as it was perceived by members of society, both practicing astrologers and non-astrologers. By consulting different primary sources (jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstras, dharmaĞƗstras, purƗ۬as, epics and others) one can have some appreciation of various issues regarding, for example, the extent to which astrologers were integrated into society, the conditions under which they operated, their duties, responsibilities and professional qualifications, their royal supporters, the salaries they obtained, and many other similar matters of extreme importance for the location of the astrologer within the larger social panorama. In India the position of royal astrologer had its sanction in myth. Astrology, therefore, was considered divine in origin as well as in its subject matter. The chapter concludes that the status of the astrologer certainly has improved in later eras as compared to the low evaluation of his social position in early DharmaĞƗstras, in which the profession of astrologer was denounced as impure. The brƗhma৆a astrologer was conditioned, on one hand, by the optimal, optative behavior that constitutes the svadharma of a brƗhma৆a. On the other hand, the astrologer was defined by the characteristics of his occupational genus, which conflicted with the dharma of his caste. Jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstras generally describe the astrologer as, essentially, an ideal brƗhma৆a. Given that the astrologer’s clientele probably included persons of low caste, the astrologer’s interaction with them caused him to be perceived as defiled and defiling to the caste of brƗhma৆as. During the third and fourth centuries, under the influence of Greek astrosciences, a new form of astronomy gained hegemony in India and this caused significant changes in the Indian priesthood that put the astrologer at the head of the new priesthood. The astrologer was fulfilling his role as an “institutional authority” by providing knowledge and understanding to the royal court, individual and society.

54

Chapter Three

Thus he had enormous power and responsibility at the royal court and at every level of society. The true daivajña, because of his ‫܈܀‬i-like insight and ability to interpret correctly the dialectics between earth and sky, was sought out at all opportunities for the information necessary to maintain individual and social wellbeing. When problems arose, this was due, apparently, to astrologers who abused their power and neglected their responsibilities.

Hindu astrology since its very beginning was concerned with rulers and royal personages, the fate of kingdoms, wars and public enterprises. The casting of horoscopes for countries, royalties and the determination of high and low points in their futures—a practice known as mundane astrology in modern English—was an important function of early astrologers, who might be said to have created myths of the state and to have engaged in oracular activities. But it too began to democratize itself and became a medium for all. Thus, in my paper I will try to show that the infusion of astronomical and astrological ideas and methods from the Hellenistic West served to enhance the position of astrology and astrologers at the royal and, later, at popular levels. What was the relationship between the astrologer and the priest at royal court? Also I argue that the status of astrologers certainly has improved in later eras as compared to the low evaluation of his social position in early DharmaĞƗstras (200 BC-200 AD), in which the profession of astrologer was denounced as impure.1 Since the beginning of the first millennium BC in India the position of royal astrologer had its sanction in myth. According to MahƗbhƗrata (XII.59.117) the ‫܈܀‬i Garga himself was the astrologer of king Vena.2 This did not mean that other court officials were not acquainted with jyoti‫܈‬a. Other leading state officials or their family members are known to have studied or written on jyoti‫܈‬a, notably under the Calukyas (6th to 8th centuries AD). Other than the royal astrologer, the official most likely to be acquainted with the subject was the king’s family priest, purohita. The PariĞi‫ܒ܈‬as of the Atharvaveda (4.6.4) mentions ritual of pacification of the planets (grahaĞƗnti) as one of the duties of the purohita.3 The ArthaĞƗstra of Kau‫ܒ‬ilƯya (4th century BC) is not in favour of too much reliance on astrology, but the same work (V.3) mentions the kƗrtƗntika (foreteller), 1

Dharmasnjtras: The Law Codes of ߥpastamba, Gautama, BaudhƗyana and Vasi‫ܒ܈‬ha, trans. Patrick Olivelle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). 2 MahƗbhƗrata: Critical Edition, 24 Vols., ed. V. S. Sukthankar et al. (Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1933-1970). 3 PariĞi‫ܒ܈‬as of the Atharvaveda, George Melville Bolling and Julius Von Negelein, eds., Chaukhambha Prachyavidya Series, Vol. I (Benares: Chaukhambha Orientalia, 1976).

Status of the Indian Astrologer at the Royal Court

55

naimittika (reader of omens) and mauhnjrtika (astrologer) in the list of royal officials of the sixth class earning an annual salary of 1000 silver coins (IX.4).4 The Kau‫ܒ‬ilƯya (I.9) states that the king should have a purohita who is versed in the six a۬gas and in divine portents. The YƗjñavalkya sm‫܀‬ti (II.307.313) requires the king’s purohita be proficient in astrology because the rise and fall of kings depends on it.5 That the purohita should be versed in astrology is not surprising. Many of the ritualistic responsibilities of the purohita had to be coordinated with the proper time and astrological conditions. In India, by the middle of the first millennium at least, the astrologer had become an official of the royal court. The astrologer is undoubtedly one of the six principal officers to which NƗrada refers when he speaks of the king’s need for loyal advisors (MahƗbhƗrata II.5.13.) Traditionally, Indian rulers acquired their legitimacy by claiming a divine connection, for example, descent from the Sun, Moon or Jupiter. The very first task for astrologers in the past was to establish such divine sanction for the rulers. Most of the royal charters issued by ancient and medieval Indian rulers bear dates with astronomical details, which were no doubt supplied by the court astrologer. Not by chance, this tradition was also actively cultivated by the patronage of the powerful MƗhƗrƗjas. The rulers, particularly RudradƗman I (130-160 AD) and the court astronomers and astrologers in the realm of the Western Kৢatrapas, were seminal in the introduction of Hellenistic astrology. Following the Western Kৢatrapas, the Imperial Guptas were instrumental in furthering the spread of the imported knowledge. Despite the purohita’s knowledge of astrology, the astrologer was an indispensable advisor to the king. In a PariĞi‫ܒ܈‬as of the Atharvaveda (51.4.3.), both the daivajña and purohita are cited in connection with the protection of the kingdom. The astrologer is also mentioned separately in connection with the king. In his History of DharmaĞƗstra, P. V. Kane shows how one of the royal officers was called sƗۨvatsara or sƗۨvatsarika (calculator), also often styled jyauti‫܈‬ika (follower of stars), daivajña (knower of destiny), mauhnjrtika (knower of particular periods of time), kƗrtƗntika (soothsayer), etc. Although sometimes these designations are applied to different classes of astrologers, it was still a different

4

ArthaĞƗstra of Kau‫ܒ‬ilƯya, Bibliotheca Sanskrita, Vol. 37 (Mysore: Government Branch Press, 1909). 5 YƗjñavalkya sm‫܀‬ti, Sanskrit text, English translation, notes, introduction and index of verses by Manmatha Nath Dutt (New Delhi: Parimal Publications, 2005).

56

Chapter Three

naming of the same official institution of the royal astrologer.6 The early Gautama Dharma Snjtra (2.2.15) suggests that the king respect those who have devoted thought to the portents of the fate (daivopƗtacintakƗ‫)ۊ‬.7 According to B‫܀‬hat saۨhitƗ (2.9), a king without an astrologer mistakes his path like blind man.8 The Vi‫۬܈‬usm‫܀‬ti requires the king to depend on the astrologer on all matters.9 The KƗmandakƯyanƯtisƗra (4.33)10 and Vi‫۬܈‬udharmottara purƗ۬a (II.4.5-16)11 also prescribe reliance on the astrologer. The YƗjñavalkya sm‫܀‬ti (1.307) holds that the rise and fall of kings depend on the influence of planets. The Vi‫۬܈‬usm‫܀‬ti (3.75), in speaking of the sƗۨvatsara, the state-astrologer who gradually assumed some of the duties of the purohita, requires: “The king should depend on the astrologer in all matters” (rƗjƗ ca sarvakƗrye‫܈‬u sƗۨvatsarƗdhñna‫ۊ‬ syƗt). The importance of the astrologer for the king is nowhere more explicitly and vehemently asserted than in the VarƗhamihira‘s B‫܀‬hat saۨhitƗ (2.6; 8-10) as he cites the sage Garga: The king who does not honour a scholar of horoscopy (horƗ) and astronomy (ga۬ita), who is versed in all the limbs and subdivisions, comes to ruin. As the night without a light, as the sky without the sun, so is a king without an astrologer; he is like the blind man who wanders on the road. If there were no astrologer, the hours, lunar days, stars, seasons, and halfyears, would all be confused. Therefore a wise and eminent astrologer is to be consulted by a king who desires victory, fame, good fortune, enjoyments, and health.12

A king traditionally had two brƗhma৆a ritualists with special knowledge of signs—the purohita, royal priest, and sƗۨvatsara, royal astrologer. Every day the royal priest examined the sacrificial fire of the palace for signs and he was also supposed to look into the king’s dreams for signs. Every 6

P. V. Kane, History of DharmaĞƗstra (Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1994), Vol. V, Part 1, III.126. 7 Gautama Dharma Snjtra, Umesh Chandra Pandey, ed., Kashi Sanskrit Series, Vol.172 (Benares: Chaukhambha Sanskrit Series Office, 1966). 8 VarƗhamihira, B‫܀‬hat-saۨhitƗ with Bha‫ܒܒ‬otpalas Viv‫܀‬ti, ed. Sudhakara Dvivedi (Benares: E.J. Lazarus & Co, 1895-1897), Vols. I-II. 9 rƗjƗ ca sarva kƗrye‫܈‬u sƗ‫ۦ‬vatsarƗ dhƯna۬ syƗt, in Vi‫۬܈‬u sm‫܀‬ti: The Institutes of Vishnu, ed. Julius Jolly (Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1881), 3.75. 10 KƗmandakƯyanƯtisƗra, ed. Manmatha Nath Dutt (Varanasi: Chowkhamba Sanskrit Series Office, 1979). 11 Vi‫۬܈‬udharmottara purƗ۬a, ed. KৢemarƗja ĝrƯ K৚ৢ৆adƗsa (Bombay: Srivenkatesvara Steam Press, 1912). 12 This and following translations from Sanskrit sources are made by the author.

Status of the Indian Astrologer at the Royal Court

57

month the king was to carry, by way of his priest and astrologer, the image worship (pnjja) of the sun, moon, and planets (grahas), and lunar asterisms (nak‫܈‬atras). One of the most valued privileges of the purohitas was the right of publishing the Hindu almanac or calendar. Thus the purohita is sometimes called a pañcƗ۪gi or one who has the charge of the pañcƗ۪gam calendar. On virtually all occasions, the king and his ritualists looked for auspicious and, especially, inauspicious signs. In his paper ‘Kings and Omens’, Ronald Inden rightly argues that auspicious and inauspicious signs and acts are to be understood as features of a world constituted as a hierarchy of masters, lordships and overlordships, all of which were supposed to have emanated from an absolute Overlord of Cosmos. Natural events occurred in India because the gods in charge of the various departments of nature thought they should happen and made them happen—lesser beings or entities were continually made or caused to act on the command of higher ones. It was a necessity, thus, that a science of natural events as auspicious and inauspicious signs should emerge in this world.13 Celestial portents and omens could signal disaster not only for a king and his country but for a whole quarter of the earth, that is, for the entire empire. In order to prevent the disaster portended, the king was supposed to determine which lord was responsible for the omen and perform an auspicious ritual of the ĞƗnti type.14 In the theistic discourses of Vaiৢ৆avas and ĝaivas, kings were those manifestations of Viৢ৆u or devotees of ĝiva who were supposed to bring about the well-being of the countries they ruled. Idols are mentioned here because the deities were often regarded as kings or emperors and hence rulers of countries. However, during the third and fourth centuries AD a new form of astronomy gained hegemony in India. Before that time there were certainly astronomers or astrologers and jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstra was an important “limb” (a۬ga) of the Veda. This older astronomy, however, was basically lunar in its orientation. Already in the fifth and early fourth century BC much of Mesopotamian omen literature, perhaps from Aramaic versions, was translated into Sanskrit, and these translations, though undoubtedly considerably altered to fit with Indian intellectual traditions and with the Indian society which the diviners had to serve, form the basis of the rich 13

Ronald Inden, ‘Kings and Omens’, Journal of Developing Societies I (1985): 3040. 14 Ɩtharvanic text ĝƗntikalpa is probably the oldest text prescribing the auspicious ritual as a pacificatory rite (grahaĞƗnti) for the averting of evil caused by the angry planets, see Vinaya Kshirsagar, ĝƗnti Rituals in the Ɩtharva۬ic Tradition (New Delhi: Pratibha Prakashan, 2002), 132-155.

58

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Sanskrit and Prakrit literatures on terrestrial and celestial omens.15 The Kalpasnjtras (dating to the middle of the first millennium BC) and the ArthaĞƗstra (4th century BC) used a calendar (pañcƗ۪ga) that adhered to a lunar year of 354 days, with lunar months that ended on the full moon day.16 With the spread of Buddhism under AĞoka to northwest India, the confrontation with Greco-Roman astrology begins with the break-up of the Mauryan Empire. P. V. Kane stresses that India’s contacts with Mesopotamia became very close after Alexander’s invasion of India (ca. 325 BC) and in the third century BC. For Kane, it probably appeared that the Indians, who already had the nak‫܈‬atra astrology, saw the signs of the Zodiac on Babylonian monuments and boundary stones and adapted them to their own astrological purposes, just about the time when the Greeks derived their inspiration for individual astrology from the Babylonians.17 However, both O. Neugebauer and D. Pingree are tempted to assume that Babylonian astrology found its way to India through the Greek and Persian civilization of the Sasanian period rather than through direct contact between India and Mesopotamia: Much seems to point toward astrology as a real carrier of astronomical knowledge – specifically, astrology in a form which has definitely gone through the Hellenistic medium. This is confirmed by the use in loan words of Greek terminology and by explicit references in the Hindu sources to the Greek (or Byzantines) as their authorities for the science of astronomy.18

We have ample evidence that Greeks settled in India, composed inscriptions in Sanskrit, and wrote extensive works on astrology in Sanskrit.19 The main Sanskrit text that has preserved for us what remains of Graeco-Babylonian planetary astrology in India is the YavanajƗtaka 15

David Pingree, From Astral Omens to Astrology, From Babylon to BƯkƗner (Roma: Istituto Italiano per L’Africa e L’Oriente, 1997), 33. 16 The Kalpasnjtras of BhadrabƗhu, edited with an introduction, notes and a Prakrit-Sanskrit glossary by Hermann Jacobi (Leipzig: In Commission bei F.A. Brockhaus, 1879). 17 Kane, History of DharmaĞƗstra, 519-521. 18 O. Neugebauer, The Exact Sciences in Antiquity (New York: Dover, 1969), 160. 19 Possible contacts between Greece and India from most ancient to Roman times have been extensively examined by J. W. Sedlar, India and the Greek World. A study in the Transmission of Culture (Totowa, NJ: Rowan and Littlefield, 1980); Klaus Karttunen, India and the Hellenistic World (Helsinki: Studia Orientalia 83, 1997); and Grant Parker, The Making of Roman India (New Delhi: Cambridge University Press, 2008).

Status of the Indian Astrologer at the Royal Court

59

(‘The Horoscopy of the Greeks’) of Sphujidhvaja, composed perhaps around 270 AD.20 The word yavanas was used both by Bactrian Greeks living in the Northwest of India and those living in the Hellenistic West, and even, as seen in Tamil literature, by merchants sailing to the harbours of South India. Later, when there were no more real Yavanas in the neighbourhood, the name was used to refer to all westerners, especially Arabs. There exists more than sixteen identified horoscopic treatises in Sanskrit that are attributed to Greeks (Yavanas), but they all seem to be prior to the YavanajƗtaka. The new astronomy of the SiddhƗntas, appropriated from the Near East, was primarily solar. It also focused on the movements of the planets. The calendar that the solar astronomers made hegemonic was luni-solar, adopting the tropical year of 365 days, the zodiac and lunar months that end on the new moon day; it also introduced the seven-day week. The uptake of this new knowledge brought with it other changes. The new astrologer (sƗۨvatsara) not only introduced rites of planetary worship and pacification, he also involved himself with new rites for the permanent installation of images of the gods. Over the next few centuries these rites displaced the older ‫܈‬rauta religion and liturgy from the center of the Indian stage.21 The PariĞi‫ܒ܈‬as of the Atharvaveda were composed during this period of change and specify days of the annual rites in such a way that it could be taken to adhere to either the old or new calendar. According to Ronald Inden, “The association of the Atharvans with ĝiva, who had a special relationship to the moon, overlord of medicinal herbs (o‫܈‬adhi), and the lunar asterisms (nak‫܈‬atra), both major concerns in the Atharvaveda, and the night could hardly have inspired much enthusiasm for the solar astronomy”.22 Thus, the new astronomical knowledge was subordinated to the old one; ĝiva came to be the god of the moon of the Atharvaveda, while Viৢ৆u came to be the god of the sun and planets and, indirectly, of the triple Veda. An important term connected with the specific principles of Indian astrology is daiva. This word has its primary meaning as the interpretation

20

See: YavanajƗtaka of Sphujidhvaja, edited, translated and commented on by D. Pingree (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978), 2 Vols. 21 For those changes, see Y. Krishna, ‘The Astronomical Revolution in India About AD 400 and Its Implications’, Vishveshvaran and Indological Journal XV (1977): 265-284. 22 Ronald Inden, ‘Changes in The Vedic Priesthood’, in Ritual, State and History in South Asia, Essays in Honour of J.C. Heesterman, ed. A. W. Van Den Hoek et al. (Leiden, NY and Koln: E.J. Brill, 1992), 570.

60

Chapter Three

of various signs23 but also means fate or destiny, and in this sense it is connected with astrology in the PariĞi‫ܒ܈‬as of the Atharvaveda (II.2.2-4): Fate (daivam) overrules, human effort is only a pretext. By unfathomable fate one can conquer the earth. Between fate and human effort, fate is superior; therefore the king should specially worship fate. Also, the king should always keep an astrologer (sƗ‫ۦ‬vatsara) and a priest (purohita) – the two who know fate and rites – and maintain them like royalty. A king without an astrologer is like a boy without a father.24

Thus astrologers, if they could not achieve omniscience, or indeed the total power to control afforded by magic, attempted to mediate between the two poles of Fate and free will in such a manner as afforded them maximum power. One of the greatest Jyotiৢa writers of ancient India indeed was VarƗhamihira (ca. 505-587 AD). VarƗhamihira, the son of ȺdityadƗsa (“slave of the Sun”) was a Maga BrƗhma৆a—that is, descendent of one of those Persian Zoroastrians who entered India toward the beginning of the Christian era. In his B‫܀‬hat saۨhitƗ (Ch. 48), VarƗhamihira calls for a king to appoint both and astrologer and royal priest for the performance of the Bath of Prosperity, which could be performed on the occasion of a ceremonial bath into kingship. In this rite the astrologer is more important than the priest. The astrologer interprets the fire for omens; otherwise he is simply present, presumably as the silent, all-knowing supervisor of the rite. In his other text, YogayƗtrƗ (2.9), VarƗhamihira places the daivajña at the head of those—daivajña, mantrƯ, suh‫܀‬d, and Ɨpta—whose words the king should heed, and claims that the king who carries out the orders (vƗk) of the astrologer (bhaga۬avid) attains the overlordship of every domain (sakalama۬‫ڲ‬alƗdhipatya) (YogayƗtrƗ 17.10).25 Yet VarƗhamihira does not seem to actually place the astrologer over the priest; he assumes that some other officiant who is an adept in one of the religious orders would also be appointed by the king to act as the priest (sthƗpaka, “establisher”) in the rite of image installation. Not only should the sƗۨvatsara be expert in the newer aspects of solar astronomy, he should also be “learned in ĞƗntika and pau‫ܒ܈‬ika (rites), enchantment (abhicƗra), 23

See Bha৬৬otpala’s commentary on B‫܀‬hat sa‫ۦ‬hitƗ, 45.3. Compare with Manilius’s Astronomica, II.2.2-4: “Fate rules the world (fata regunt orbem), all things stand fixed by its immutable laws, and the long ages are assigned a predestined course of events. At birth our death is sealed, and our end is consequent upon our beginning”. 25 YogayƗtrƗ of VarƗhamihira, text with Sanskrit-Hindi commentary by Satyendra MiĞra (VƗrƗ৆asƯ: Krishnadas Academy, 1999). 24

Status of the Indian Astrologer at the Royal Court

61

and bathing lore (snƗnavidyƗ)” (B‫܀‬hat saۨhitƗ 2.3). The text also asserts that he should also be “occupied with the image worship of the gods, vows, and fasts (vibudhƗrcanavratapovƗsanirata)” (B‫܀‬hat saۨhitƗ 2.3). After enumerating the qualifications of the astrologer, the Vi‫۬܈‬udharmottarapurƗ۬a (II.4.12-14) has the king state these words to the astrologer in the course of completing his appointment: Just as the gods have fire (agni) as their source (mukha), so subjects have a king as their source; moreover, just as mantras are the source of fire, so are astrologers of kings. You are my mother and father, guide (deĞika), and preceptor; what is caused by the gods and what is caused by men is ever to be known by you. O knower of everything, well-being to you, my kingdom belongs equally to us both.

What was the relationship of the astrologer to the royal priest, according to Vi‫۬܈‬udharmottara purƗ۬a? Regarding the royal priest it states: “Ever devoted to the commands of the astrologer, he should perform the periodic, occasional, and optional rites of the king” (II.5.6). Although the king is not to abandon either his astrologer or priest, the Vi‫۬܈‬udharmottara gives one exception: “But a priest who is opposed (viruddha) to the astrologer is to be abandoned by the king; otherwise the priest is like the mother and father of the king” (II.5.9-10). The superiority of the astrologer is also to be seen in the division of the labour between the two. By and large the royal priest performed the rites and those portions of rites that used Vedic mantras and dealt with remedies and injuries and the honouring of lesser gods while the astrologer performed those rites or portions of rites that used newer Puranic mantras and were concerned with the relationship of the celebrant to Viৢ৆u. The king is also enjoined to choose for his purohita and mantrin men who have been suggested by the sƗۨvatsara. Clearly the court astrologer was considered indispensible to the king and to the welfare of the kingdom. The astrologer’s task of interpreting the will of heaven, or destiny, was a complex hermeneutical procedure before and after the adaptation of Hellenistic horoscopic astrology. Apart from technical competence, the astrologer was understood to have certain qualifications which were considered essential to the proper practice of jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstra. The primary qualification, often taken for granted, was to be a brƗhma৆a. Such was undoubtedly the case at court, where brƗhma৆as occupied all the important positions of state. In discussing the true nature of sacrifice, the UttarƗdhyayana (25.7-8) suggests that the study of jyoti‫܈‬a is one of the

62

Chapter Three

principal accomplishments of a brƗhma৆a priest.26 The later NƯlamata purƗ۬a (631-632 AD) considers the best brƗhma৆as (dvijjotama) as those who know astrology (phalavedavid), and describes brƗhma৆a astrologers (jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstra) as worthy of worship (pnjjanƯya).27 But, obviously the assimilation of Western astrological ideas and techniques into existing divinatory traditions could not remain only within the brƗhma৆a caste. One story of the Buddhist SƗrdnjlakar۬ƗvadƗna,28 probably written in the first century AD, tells how an outcast’s display of knowledge of astral portents similar to those of the astronomy adopted by Lagadha in his ‫ۿ‬gveda Jyoti‫܈‬avedƗ۪ga29 (ca. 5th century BC) is used to establish the outcast’s equality with a brƗhma৆a. This is precisely the situation to which the commentary of the astrological text, MuhnjrtacintƗma۬i of RƗmadaivajña refers: “Certainly Ğnjdras have no authority whatever in the matter of jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstra”. And the commentary later adds: “If a brƗhma৆a, out of greed or another vice, teaches astrology to a Ğnjdra, and he studies it, then a great sin has been committed”.30 The earlier YavanajƗtaka (51.13-16) describes the astrologer as follows: He who is brilliant with the knowledge of the science of the Vedas, the VedƗৄgas, the PurƗ৆as, and DharmaĞƗstras, and knows grave fate; he who is free from impurities such as theft, envy, falseness, fraud, injury, hatred, and anger; a brƗhma৆a whose body is praiseworthy, full-grown, and beautiful; one who possesses vows, praise, purity, and dharma (righteousness), is a wise, intelligent, restrained, and tranquil man; who is devoted to independence and is honoured by this teachers; who has obtained success through the favour of the earth and planets; a man of yogic sight (yogadarĞƯ) like Nimi (king) among men; he should find out the past, present and future influences, both good and evil, which pertain to himself and others”. 26

The UttarƗdhyayana snjtra, in The Jaina Sutras, Part II, translated from Prakrit by Hermann Jacobi (Sacred Books of the East, Vol. 45) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1895; repr. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1968). 27 NƯlamata, or Teaching of NƯla, ed. K. de Vreese (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1936). 28 The SƗrdnjlakar۬ƗvadƗna, ed. Sujitkumar Mukhopadhyaya (Santiniketan: Visvabharati, 1954). 29 VedƗ۪ga jyoti‫܈‬a of Lagadha in its Rֈ k and Yajus recensions, with the translation and notes of Prof. T. S. Kuppanna Sastry (New Delhi: Indian National Science Academy, 1985). 30 evaۨ satyasmiñ jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstre sarvathƗ ĞnjdrƗ۬ƗmanadhikƗra‫ ۊ‬/ Yadi brƗhma۬a‫ ۊ‬Ğnjdraۨ lobhƗdinƗpƗ‫ܒ‬hayati tasmƗccapa‫ܒ‬hatitadƗmahƗn do‫܈‬a‫ ۊ‬// in the Commentary from MuhnjrtacintƗma۬i of RƗmadaivajña, ed. KৢemarƗja ĝrƯ K৚ৢ৆adƗsa (Bombay: Venkateshwar Steam Press, 1911), 7.

Status of the Indian Astrologer at the Royal Court

63

Besides, the astrologer must of course be familiar with the sixty-four a۬gas (“limbs”) of jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstra and to be versed in the rights of propitiation, prosperity, incantation and ablution. He must also be pious, virtuous and full of faith, and be devoted to fasting, religious observances and worshiping the gods. In fact, much of the description of the acceptable astrologer that we encounter in these texts can also be found in compatible early Western astrological works such as those of Vettius Valens and Julius Firmicus Maternus. For example, Julius Firmicus Maternus (4th century AD), in his Matheseos Libri VIII (Liber Secundus, 2), states: Therefore study and pursue all the distinguishing marks of virtue and, when you have trained yourself in these, be easy of access, so that if anyone wishes to consult you about anything, he may approach you without fear. Be modest, upright, sober, eat little, be content with few goods, so that the shameful love of money may not defile the glory of this divine science. Try with your training and principles to outdo the training and principles of worthy priests.31

These materials describe the astrologer as, essentially, an ideal brƗhma৆a, a paragon of all those qualities that Indian culture regards as virtues: he is endowed solely with sƗttvika (“pure”) qualities; he knows the Veda and its branches; and he conforms to social norms of behaviour and cannot be classed with shamans, sorcerers or even a medicine man. Thus, the B‫܀‬hat saۨhitƗ (2.15) remarks that, “where the astrologer exists as the eye (cak‫܈‬urbhnjta), there no evil is to be found”. In this way, the astrologer is likened to a powerful and divinely inspired yogi. Such a person will possess the same clear, visionary knowledge possessed by the ‫܈܀‬is who originally promulgated jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstra, also with divine favour. In his commentary to the B‫܀‬hat saۨhitƗ (45.3) Utpala cites Garga: “BrƗhma৆as, filled with faith in the gods, going deeply into the ĞƗstras, Examine celestial portents and explain them to men for their well-being”.32 31

Jean Rhys Bram, Ancient Astrology: Theory and Practice. Matheseos Libri VIII by Firmicus Maternus, trans. Jean Rhys Bram (Park Ridge: Noyes Press, 1975), 68. As Franz Cumont pointed out, Roman astrologers were ever ready to recount the divine attributes which qualified them for their work: chastity, sobriety, integrity, self-renunciation, devotion to God. See Franz Cumont, Astrology and Religion among the Greeks and Romans (London: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1912; repr. New York: Dover Publications, 1960), 82-83. 32 tƗn ĞƗstranirgamƗdviprƗ‫ ۊ‬paĞyanti jñƗnacak‫܈‬u‫܈‬Ɨ /pravadanti tu martye‫܈‬u hitƗrtam ĞraddhayƗnvitƗ‫ ۊ‬//, in B‫܀‬hat saۨhitƗ with Bha‫ܒܒ‬otpalas Viv‫܀‬ti 45:3,Vol. III.

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This apotheosis of the astrologer, however, is not characteristic even of astrological texts, to say nothing of mainstream religious literature. Despite this, the status of astrologers certainly improved in later eras as compared to his social position in the DharmaĞƗstras. Therefore, this was the ideal conception that Indian culture developed for the astrological practitioner, but it was also, frequently, a tremendous conceit. Far from being a peripheral adjunct to Hinduism, astrology was thus concerned from the outset (at the beginning of the first millennium BC) with central religious issues such as fate (daiva) and free will (puru‫܈‬kara), reward and punishment and atonement. The orthodox doctrine of karman lends authority to astrological teachings, but the reverse holds true as well: for astrology claims to prove the workings of karman by accurately predicting the future.33 Another duty for the brƗhma৆a astrologer concerned the ĞƗnti rites for the planets. The grahas might inflict suffering (ka‫ܒ܈‬a) upon someone at any time, according to their condition. The ĞƗnti rites could placate the graha, and mitigate or entirely nullify the evil inflicted by the planet. In order for the ritual to be effective, food and gift (dak‫܈‬i۬a) had to be given to the officiating brƗhma৆as (YƗjñavalkya sm‫܀‬ti 1.305) J. C. Heesterman has clearly shown that the function of the brƗhma৆a officiant in the Vedic sacrifice was to take away the impurity of the sacrificer (yajamƗna) by accepting dak‫܈‬i۬a. The transfer of impurity occurred through the food and gifts that were given from one to the other.34 This was the ritual dynamic utilized by some brƗhma৆as to perform service of “eating the graha” or “eating the ka‫ܒ܈‬a of their clients”. That is, by accepting and eating food cooked by an afflicted client, the ka‫ܒ܈‬a of the client was transferred to the astrologer. The transfer of sin through the consumption of food is founded on a complex and deep-level Hindu belief system. Manu sm‫܀‬ti (5.4) warns that death is eager to shorten the lives of brƗhma৆as who commit faults in

33 For more on the doctrine of karman in Indian astrology, see Martin Gansten, ‘Reshaping karma: an Indic metaphysical paradigm in traditional and modern astrology’, in Cosmologies: Proceedings of the Seventh Annual Sophia Centre Conference 2009, ed. Nicholas Campion (Ceredigion: Sophia Centre Press, 2010); and Audrius Beinorius, ‘Astral Hermeneutics: Astrology and Medicine in India’, in Astro-Medicine: Astrology and Medicine, East and West, ed. Anna Akasoy, Charles Burnett and Ronit Yoeli-Tlalim (Firenze-Sismel: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2008), 189-208. 34 J. C. Heesterman, ‘Brahmin, Ritual and Renouncer’, Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde Süd- und Ostasiens, Band 8 (1964): 2-3.

Status of the Indian Astrologer at the Royal Court

65

the consumption of food (annado‫܈‬a).35 The astrologer who eats the ka‫ܒ܈‬a of his client is engaging in precisely the kind of activity prohibited to brƗhma৆as. Given, then, that food is a primary conduit for purity or defilement, the astrologer who eats the food of an afflicted client takes the latter’s evil karman upon himself and becomes impure. Clearly the astrologer’s power and responsibilities could be easily abused and neglected in a variety of ways. The commentary on the MuhnjrtacintƗma۬i (1.2) consigned the false astrologer (‫܀‬k‫܈‬avi‫ڲ‬aۨbin), along with his client, to the hell of complete darkness (andhatƗmiĞra). In an interesting variation, the Brahmavaivarta mahƗpurƗ۬a (4.85.201-202) asserts that a brƗhma৆a who is versed in the magical texts of the Atharvaveda, who casts evil spells, or who is deficient in knowledge goes to the hell of darkness for ten thousand years and is then reborn as a daivajña, an agradƗ۬Ư (a degraded brƗhma৆a who takes the offerings made to the dead), a Ğnjdra (the lowest caste) and lastly a brƗhma৆a.36 According to the same text, the punishment for one who has made his livelihood by astrology (daivajñopajƯvƯ) includes being reborn seven times as an astrologer or calculator (ga۬aka) (Brahmavaivarta mahƗpurƗ۬a, 2.31.5557). In this context, the perception of astrologer in India by an outsider is noteworthy. In the eleventh century AD, Al-Biruni noted that Hindus “show much affection to their astronomers, declaring that they are excellent men, that it is good omen to meet them, and firmly believing that all of them come into Paradise and none into hell”.37 Though there is plenty of evidence indicating that Hindu astrologers were actually regarded with profound ambivalence, Al-Biruni’s hyperbole nevertheless reflects the prominence enjoyed by astrological practitioners in India at the beginning of the second millennium. In conclusion: in India, the position of royal astrologer had its sanction in myth. Astrology, therefore, was considered divine in origin as well as in its subject matter. The infusion of astronomical and astrological ideas and methods from the Hellenistic West served to enhance the position of astrology and astrologers at the royal and, later, popular levels. The new astronomical knowledge was subordinated to the old one and the new astrologer (sƗۨvatsara) was raised above the priest-purohita. The 35

Manu sm‫܀‬ti with Sanskrit Commentary ManavarthamuktƗvali of Kullnjka Bha‫ܒܒ‬a, ed. J. L. Shastri (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1990). 36 Brahmavaivarta mahƗpurƗ۬a, Ksnadas Khemraj, rf. (Bombay: Venkateshwar Steam Press, 1909). 37 Ainslie T. Embree, ed., Alberuni’s India, trans. Edward C. Sachau, with editor’s introduction (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1971), 265.

66

Chapter Three

superiority of the astrologer is also to be seen in the division of the labour between the two. The status of astrologers certainly improved in later eras as compared to the low social position evidenced in early DharmaĞƗstras, in which the profession of astrologer and diviner was denounced. We see that the brƗhma৆a astrologer was conditioned, on one hand, by the optimal, optative behavior that constitutes the dharma of a brƗhma৆a. In classical times (the first millennium AD), at least, an astrologer was ipso facto understood to be a brƗhma৆a; this is certainly the presumption of the texts that denounce him. On the other hand, the astrologer was defined by the characteristics of his occupational genus, which conflicted with the dharma of his caste. Jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstra generally describe the astrologer as, essentially, an ideal brƗhma৆a. Perhaps the calculations and manipulations of the professional astrologer were seen as incongruous with the spirit of Vedic knowledge. The brƗhma৆a was enjoined first and foremost to study and teach the Veda. The astrologer, however, was concerned with the technicalities of jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstra, not with the study and dissemination of Vedic knowledge. For the brƗhma৆a astrologer who received a fee or accepted dak‫܈‬i۬a and who then returned not the sure knowledge of the Veda but problematic portents, such an exchange would tend to lower the status of the astrologer in relation to other brƗhma৆as. Further, given that the astrologer’s clientele probably included persons of low caste, the astrologer’s interaction with them caused him to be perceived as defiled and defiling to the caste of brƗhma৆as. Thus, the astrologer had enormous power and responsibility at royal court and at every level of society. The problem was apparently that many astrologers abused their power and neglected their responsibilities. They were accused of arrogance and greed and being primarily interested in obtaining power and wealth. Others were also downright incompetent, with little understanding of the texts, the meaning or the operations of jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstra. However, the true daivajña, because of his ‫܈܀‬i-like insight and ability to interpret correctly the dialectics between earth and sky, was sought out at all opportunities for the information necessary to maintain individual and social well-being.

CHAPTER FOUR ASTROLOGY AND ITS RITUAL APPLICATIONS: PROPITIATION OF THE PLANET SATURN WITHIN THE SUN TEMPLE AT SURYANAAR KOYIL (TAMIL NADU, INDIA). A CASE STUDY FROM CONTEMPORARY TAMIL SHAIVISM MARIO FRISCIA

Abstract In accordance with the Hindu view of the cosmos, the planets of the solar system are ruled by a set of spiritual entities commonly referred to by the term Navagraha. These planetary deities are believed to exert a deep influence on every single domain of one’s life. Astrology is the key to unfold the karmic logic that lies behind their actions. To ward off the evils signalled by the bad disposition of the Navagraha—in one’s horoscope—contemporary Hindu astrologers suggest that their clients follow a specific set of remedial measures. Pilgrimage to the Sun Temple at Suryanaar Koyil is considered to be one of the most reliable. Located in the Indian state of Tamil Nadu, this sacred spot hosts nine anthropomorphic mårti (idols) representing the Navagraha: Sårya (Sun), Chandra (Moon), Cevvai (Mars), Budha (Mercury), Guru (Jupiter), øukra (Venus), Ràhu (north lunar node) and Ketu (south lunar node). I would like to focus on a short documentary (5 minutes long), filmed during my six-month fieldwork in the temple, related to the propitiation of the most feared among the Navagraha: øani (Saturn). The documentary demonstrates the central role that astrology plays in shaping both the spiritual and material life of the Tamil people and how it is capable of creating specific—and observable—patterns of ritual behaviour within the temples. As the ethnographical data collected on the field clearly show, the discipline of astrology—at least in Tamil Nadu—is not to be considered as a superfluous vestige of an astrolatric mindset. It is, on the contrary, a fundamental and operative feature

68

Chapter Four

of temple liturgy. Within the framework of a cross-cultural perspective, therefore, I believe that the analysis of the following case study from South India could be a good opportunity to address the question of the ritual applications of astrology within contemporary religions.

1. Preliminary remarks: ethnographic sample and methodological approach The relationship between Hindu astrology and temple rituals has not been sufficiently explored by Western scholars. My aim with this case study is to show how an ethnomusicological analysis of the ritual soundscape of a Tamil temple devoted to the worship of a group of nine astronomical deities—the Navagraha—can help in understanding both the ritual applications of astrology and its role within contemporary Tamil Shaivism.1 By taking into account the ritual formulae recited by a Shaiva priest during the celebration of a øani arcana, I will demonstrate how lunar asterisms, solar constellations and other astrologically significant astronomical objects—the planets—may become a central part of the religious practices occurring within a Hindu temple. In my view, a phenomenological approach is critical to establishing the actual nature of temple soundscapes and examining the contents of the sacred texts attributed to the Navagraha.2 In addition, I believe that a research methodology founded on video-ethnography is vital if we want to study Hindu astrology within a given ritual context. Data included in this paper have been gathered within a single religious environment, the Sun Temple at Suryanaar Koyil, where I spent a period of six months carrying out my doctoral fieldwork.3

1

The expression refers to a branch of the Hindu religion considering øiva as the main deity. For a general overview of its history in South India see C. V. Narayana Ayyar, The origin and early history of øaivism in South India (1939; Madras: University of Madras, 1974). For an outline of øiva worship see F. W. Clothey and J. B. Long, eds., Experiencing øiva: Encounters with a Hindu Indian god (The Hague: Mouton, 1983). 2 A collection of some of these texts can be found in S. K. Ramachandra Rao, Navagraha Koùa, 2 Vols. (Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications, 1995). 3 M. Friscia, Pratiche sonore, musicali e rituali nel culto dei Navagraha. La fonosfera del tempio solare di Sooriyanarkoyil (Tamil Nadu, India) (PhD diss., 2 Vols., 4 DVDs, Università di Roma La Sapienza, 2013).

Astrology and its Ritual Applications

69

2. Hindu astrology and its philosophical background Astrology (Jyotiùa) has played a pivotal role in shaping the ritual life of the Indian subcontinent since the dawning of Vedic civilization.4 The ancient science of Jyotiùa is founded on the study of the planets (graha) and their cyclical movements through a group of solar constellations (rà÷i) and lunar asterisms (nakùatra).5 The ultimate goal of a Hindu astrologer is to help his clients become aware of the constructive/destructive energies periodically released by a group of nine astronomical entities, the Navagraha.6 These celestial beings—Sårya (the Sun), Candra (the Moon), Cevvai (Mars), Budha (Mercury), Guru (Jupiter), øukra (Venus), øani (Saturn), Ràhu (North Lunar node) and Ketu (South Lunar node)—do not rule capriciously over us: their main duty is to signal, and then activate, a series of energetic flows that drive our actions in the specific direction prescribed by our latent karmic propensities.7 Therefore, understanding 4

A good manual of South Indian astrology is D. Frawley, Astrology of the seers: A Guide to Vedic/Hindu Astrology (Twin Lakes Wisconsin: Lotus Press, 2000). On the importance of the planets to the Vedic people, see D. Frawley, ‘Planets in the Vedic literature’, Indian Journal of History of Science 29, no. 4 (1993): 495-506. 5 Meùa (Aries), V‫܈܀‬abha (Taurus), Mithuna (Gemini), Karka‫ܒ‬a (Cancer), Siüha (Leo), Kanyà (Virgo), Tulà (Libra), V‫܀‬Ğcika (Scorpio), Dhanus (Sagittarius), Makara (Capricorn), Kumbha (Aquarius), Mãna (Pisces). Hindu astrology recognizes 27 lunar asterisms: AĞvinã, Bhara۬ã, K‫܀‬ttikà, Rohi۬Ư, M‫܀‬gaĞira, Ɩrdrà, Punarvasnj, Pu‫܈‬ya, AĞle‫܈‬Ɨ, Maghà, Pårva Phàlgunã, Uttara Phàlgunã, Hasta, Citrà, Svàti, ViĞàkhà, Anuràdhà, Jye‫ܒ܈‬hƗ, Mnjla, PnjrvƗ‫܈‬Ɨ‫ڲ‬hƗ, UttarƗ‫܈‬Ɨ‫ڲ‬hƗ, ørava۬a, Dhani‫ܒ܈‬hƗ, øatabhi‫܈‬ak, PårvabhƗdrapadƗ, UttarabhƗdrapadƗ, Revatã. An excellent introduction to the nak‫܈‬atras is D. Harness, The Nakshatras: The lunar mansions of Vedic astrology (Twin Lakes, WI: Lotus Press, 1999). For an historical perspective on the topic, see E. Burgess, ‘On the origin of the lunar division of the zodiac represented in the Nakshatra system of the Hindus’, Journal of the American Oriental Society 8 (1866): 309-334. 6 There are few studies dealing with these astronomical beings. General information about their ritual function within a Hindu context can be found in G. Buhnemann, The heavenly bodies in Hindu ritual (Nagoya: University of Nagoya Press, 1989). For the place of the Navagraha in the ritual traditions of Nepal, see M. Kropf, Rituelle traditionen der planetengottheiten (Navagraha) im Kathmandutal: strukturen-praktiken-weltbilder (PhD diss., Heidelberg University, 2005); and P. P. Bhattacharyya, The Astral Divinities of Nepal (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1969). 7 Different perspectives on the concept of karma, not necessarily related to its astrological implications, can be gained by consulting C. F. Keyes and E. V. Daniel, eds., Karma: An anthropological inquiry (Berkeley: University of

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one’s natal chart is a powerful way for an individual to have access to his or her own karmic map, which is written in the language of the planets. Within contemporary Tamil Shaivism more and more people believe that the energies cyclically distributed by the Navagraha can be modified and positively channelled through a set of remedial measures.8 Temple rituals are one of the most efficacious strategies to establish contact with the Navagraha and pacify them, with the expectation that such an act of devotion may reduce the harshness of the bad karma to come. Lord øani, the graham corresponding to the planet Saturn, is the most feared amongst the Navagraha and will be the main object of this paper. As pointed out by distinguished scholars of astrology, such as B. V. Raman, the underlying assumption behind the belief that the Navagraha are in charge of indicating our karma is the following: even though an individual cannot entirely escape his karma, he has the possibility to actively intervene in it and even modify it.9 The Sun temple at Suryanaar Koyil is believed to be the most effective location in India to help devotees manage their karma through the propitiation of the Navagraha.10 According to a local legend, øiva himself, who is considered to be the overlord of the Navagraha, allowed the planetary deities to freely grant boons to those who would have come to the temple asking for some relief from their astrological and karmic troubles.11

California Press, 1983); and W. D. O’Flaherty, Karma and rebirth in classical Indian traditions (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980). 8 For a history of Navagraha worship in Tamil Nadu, see K. R. Sita, The Navagraha in Tamil Nadu. A Historical survey (PhD diss., Thanjavur University, 1995); D. Tyagarajan, The development of Surya and Navagraha worship in Tamil Nadu (M.Phil thesis, Chennai University, 1989) 9 To deepen the Hindu philosophical background of the relationships between man and the cosmos, see B. V. Raman, Planetary Influences on Human Affairs (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidas, 1946). 10 Apart from the Suryanaar Koyil, there are other important øaiva temples associated with the Navagraha in Tamil Nadu. They are all located around the sacred city of Kumbakonam. A useful introduction to each of them can be found in V. Jambunathan, Navagraha temples of Tanjore district of Tamilnadu (Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 2011); and P. Raghavan and S. Narayan, Navagraha temples of Tamil Nadu. Kaveri delta (Mumbai: English Edition, 2005). 11 The story is told in the Suryanaar Koyil’s official pamphlet: M. P. Swaminathan, Cnjriyanàr koyil tala varalàru (1995; Thiruvaduthurai Adinam, 2009).

Astrology and its Ritual Applications

71

3. The Sun temple at Suryanaar Koyil: Location and history The Solar Temple, which is the subject of this paper, is one of present-day Tamil Nadu’s most famous temples. It is a pilgrimage centre entirely devoted to the worship of the Navagraha, a group of nine (nava) astronomical entities (graha), comprising the Sun (Sårya) and eight other celestial beings. The temple, commonly named after the homonymous village of Suryanaarkoil, is located in the Thiruvidaimarudur taluk, a part of the Thanjavur district. It is run by the Thiruvavaduthurai ƗtƯõam—a prestigious Shaivite monastery—and its ritual activities are officiated by a small group of Shaivite priests (kurukkaë). We know from the historical record and temple inscriptions that Suryanaar Koyil was built in the year 1100 AD by the Chola king Kulottunga I, who was a staunch follower of the solar cults of North India.12

4. Temple structure: the simulacrum of the planet Saturn (øani) and the other Navagraha shrines What makes this medium-sized Hindu temple so special with respect to the other Shaivite temples is the unique typology and spatial disposition of the anthropomorphic statues contained therein.13 To begin with, the presiding deity is a graha, Sårya, and not øiva. Generally, all the ordinary Shaivite temples located in Tamil Nadu host the statues (mårti) of the Navagraha in the northeast side of the main sacred building (Fig. 1). They are positioned on a small altar (pãñha).

12

On the history of the Colas in South India, see K. A. N. Sastri, The Colas (1935; Madras: University of Madras, 1975). For a study of the Indian Solar cults, see L. P. Pandeya, Sun worship in ancient India (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidas, 1971). 13 For those interested in understanding the general structure of a South Indian temple and making a comparison with the Suryanaar Koyil’s architectural features, two reliable sources are S. Kramrisch, The Hindu temple, 2 Vols. (1947; Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1976); and G. Michell, The Hindu temple: An Introduction to its Meaning (London: Paul Elek, 1977).

Chapter Four

72

Fig. 1: Navaagraha pãñha, Subramaniam S Temple T at Thannjavur. øani is the blackclothed grahaa standing in thee centre. Vaidika Pradiùñha Norrth

West

Budha ȋ‡”…—”›Ȍ

Cand dra ȋ‘‘ ‘Ȍ

Çukra ȋ‡—•Ȍ

Guru ȋ —’‹–‡”Ȍ

Såry ya ȋ— Ȍ

Cevvai (Mars)

Ràhu ȋȋ‘”–Š—ƒ” ‘†‡Ȍ

øan ni ȋƒ–— —”Ȍ

Ketu ȋȋ‘—–Š—ƒ” ‘†‡Ȍ

East

South

Table 1: Spatial dispositioon of the Navag graha in an orddinary Shaivite temple. t

Astroology and its Ritual Applicatioons

73

As we can ssee from the photo p in Figu ure 1, the ninee grahas are positioned p close to the other aroundd Sårya, whicch is considerred their lead der (Table 1).14 Suryannaar Koyil offfers its visito ors a complettely different scenario. Each graha is placed witthin its own shrine s (sannaddhi) (Fig. 2) and their mutual dispposition—uniique to Surryanaar Koyiil—differs frrom that provided in the previouss table (Tablee 2). These sseparate sannadhis are located in the external courtyard (p pràkàra), arouund the main n temple building (vimàna) where the presiding g deity—Såryya—and its inseparable counsellor, Guru (the plaanet Jupiter), are found. Thhe simulacrum m of øani (Fig. 2) is loocated in the south s side of the t pràkàra. T The Navagrahaa shrines, positioned aaround their Sun accordin ngly, are inteended to sim mulate the actual dispoosition of the planets p in cosm mic space andd constitute a replica r of the solar sysstem.

Fig. 2: Thhe sannadhi of øani, ø Suryanaarr Koyil.

14

All the phootos included inn this paper haave been taken by the author during his fieldwork.

Chapter Four

74

Vaidika Pradiùñha North

West

Budha ȋ‡”…—”›Ȍ

Candra ȋ‘‘Ȍ

Çukra ȋ‡—•Ȍ

Guru ȋ —’‹–‡”Ȍ

Sårya ȋ—Ȍ

Cevvai (Mars)

Ràhu ȋ‘”–Š—ƒ” ‘†‡Ȍ

øani ȋƒ–—”Ȍ

Ketu ȋ‘—–Š—ƒ” ‘†‡Ȍ

East

South

Table 2: Spatial disposition of the Navagraha in Suryanaar Koyil.

Iconographically, each graha presents a specific set of features and symbols. As per Hindu astrological tradition, øani is believed to be the son of Sårya and Chàyà, and is in charge of longevity and death. He was an exceptional being who gained the privilege of attaining the status of graha as a result of a series of meritorious actions. In contemporary Tamil imagery, a graha is a multifaceted entity whose identity is the result of the stratified combination of an astronomical object, an astrological significator, a deity, a former human being and sometimes even a demon, capable of capriciously seizing a person’s life. In the Suryanaar Koyil none of the Navagraha mårtis are armed and this remarkable characteristic is mirrored in the lyrics of a particular set of mantras called the Navagraha gàyatrã, mantras that will be discussed in the next section. The local priests say that since the Navagraha are well disposed to grant boons to those pilgrims who come to the temple to pay homage to their simulacra, there is no need for them to show up holding threatening weapons. This iconographical detail is relevant to our understanding of the astrological function of the Suryanaar Koyil. In fact, it serves, on the one hand, to remind people of the enormous powers circulating in the temple; on the other hand, it supports the general assumption according to which full or partial relief from any karmic

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hindrance is guaranteed to those who worship the Navagraha here, no matter how malefically aspected the planets are in one’s natal chart.

5. Navagraha worship and its astrological rationale What kind of ceremonies are addressed to the Navagraha and, more specifically, to the graha øani in Suryanaar Koyil? In order to answer this question, let me list the following major ritual categories according to a decreasing level of internal complexity: x Homa: a ritual during which the Navagraha are invoked into the sacred flames and propitiated through a long series of offerings, thrown into a fire pit by the priest. x Abhiùeka: a ceremonial bathing of the anthropomorphic mårtis of the grahas. x Påjà: a sequence of offerings given as tribute to a sacred receptacle—not necessarily anthropomorphic in shape—representing a given graha. x Arcana: an abbreviated and itinerant form of påjà, performed by a standing priest in honour of one or more grahas on behalf of a private ritual sponsor).

The above-mentioned rituals are not celebrated exclusively within Suryanaar Koyil to propitiate the Navagraha. All Hindu temples make use of them, regardless of the religious sect to which they belong or the nature of deity they wish to propitiate. In the context of this paper, I will focus only on the propitiation of the graha øani through the performance of an arcana. This choice derives from two reasons: first, this is the most frequently performed ceremony in the temple; secondly, since the ritual takes place in the accessible space of the pràkàra, this allowed me to film the event from the beginning to the end, without violating any local norm. According to the Suryanaar Koyil’s ritual protocol, pilgrims wishing to request the celebration of an arcana can choose between two options: 1) to pay tribute only to one graha, or 2) to propitiate all nine astronomical beings. The expression graha arcana is commonly used to indicate the first option, while the second is referred to by the expression Navagraha arcana. A øani arcana can take place either as part of a full Navagraha arcana, during which all nine planetary deities are worshipped in sequence and according to a prescribed order (Table 3), or as an isolated act of devotion.

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North 11. Chandikesvara West

1. Kol Vinayakar

10. Ràhu

9. øukra

8. Ketu

2. Guru

3. Sårya

7. Candra

4. ĝani

5. Budha

6. Cevvai

East

South

Table 3: Propitiation order followed during a Navagraha arcana. Another remarkable ritual custom of the Suryanaar Koyil is the following: devotees are used to request arcanas for the grahas throughout the all week, regardless of the day upon which each of them is believed to exert its maximum influence. This means that, while øani is propitiated in the majority of the Tamil Shaivite temples only on Saturdays, in Suryanaar Koyil he is worshipped on a daily basis. Such an interrupted flow of arcanas charges the mårti of øani, as well as the statues of the other grahas, with a massive spiritual power, which, in turn, increases the faith of the pilgrims. Those who reach Suryanaar Koyil to ask the local priests to perform an arcana on their behalf, do so because they are suffering from a graha doùa. The word doùa is used in astrology to indicate a great range of psychophysical blocks affecting a person as a direct consequence of his bad karma. The Navagraha’s duty is to distribute these doùas according to one’s karma. By examining a natal chart, an expert astrologer is capable of identifying what kind of doùa is causing trouble to a person and the specific graha responsible for the irradiation of the corresponding obstructive forces. As a result, when a priest performs a graha arcana, he is not acting for the welfare of the world—as in the case of the Sårya påjà—but for the benefit of a limited group of people, who are facing a period of distress brought about by that graha. The temple administrators often emphasized the fact that not only Hindu devotees but people from different religious backgrounds (Christians, Muslims, Buddhists) visited the temple to pay ritual homage to the Navagraha. This interesting trend demonstrates how, in Tamil Nadu, astrology is a socio-cultural phenomenon which goes beyond the boundaries of Hinduism.

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To conclude: a graha arcana is basically a private affair, and the priest involved in the ceremony acts as an intermediary between the ritual sponsor (yajamàna) and the Navagraha. If it were not for the system of astrological diagnosis previously outlined, few people would crowd Suryanaar Koyil and far fewer would pay money to sponsor an arcana addressed to its simulacra.

6. øani arcana: one way to propitiate the planet Saturn (øani) In this section I will describe one concrete example of øani arcana performed by one priest on behalf of one specific group of devotees. In order to aid the reader to visualize how the ritual is organized, a series of pictures have been extracted from the video presented on the day of the conference. A full list of the texts recited by the priest can be found at the end of this chapter, together with a synoptic table, summarizing the internal structure of the øani arcana. I have decided to include in the table also those offerings which have been omitted by the yajamàna and other alternative mantras, so as to allow the reader to make a comparison between the specific arcana described here and the general structure of a graha arcana. In the next section, the ritual texts chanted by the officiant will be analyzed in terms of their content and their relationship to astrology. It is a warm morning in the Tamil sacred month of Markazhi (November-December) and the temple courtyard is crowded with hundreds of pilgrims intent on paying homage to the statues of the Navagraha. A man in his forties, accompanied by his wife and his son, stand in close proximity to the sannadhi housing the mårti of øani (Fig. 3). His eyes are fixed on the deity; his hands are joined in prayer. Waiting for a priest to come, the man asks his son to light the dãpa (a small candle). The child obeys and places the dãpam at the feet of øani (Fig. 4). This is the only offering a devotee is free to present to the grahas without the ritual mediation of the brahmanical priestly class.

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Fig. 3: Thee yajamàna look ks at the mårti of øani.

Fiig . 4: His son lights the dãpa.

A few seconnds later, a yooung priest naamed Ganesh approaches th he family (Fig. 5). Thhe introductoryy section (seee below, sectioon 1. Saïkalp pa) of the øani arcana is about to sttart. Ganesh, instead of utteering the long sequence of agamic mantras whiich generally characterizee the saïkalp pa, limits

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himself to coollecting, andd then reciting out loud, the names, the so olar (rà÷i) and lunar (n nakùatra) consstellations of th he family.15

Fig. 5: Ganeshh—the priest— —approaches thee yajamàna.

The most striking elem ment of this introductoryy section is that the astrological coordinates pronounced by b the yajam màna and his wife are repeated by the brahmaniical officiant. To be more precise, thesee data are not simply rrepeated. In faact, as Ganesh h himself explaained to me, th he priests add specificc suffixes (n nàmadehasya‫ۊ‬ ‫ۊ‬, ujàtasya) to a given name, n or constellationn, in order to t turn them into ritual uutterances, caapable of reaching the ears of thee grahas. Su uch is the poower conferreed to the brahmanicall vocality by the t Hindu relig gious traditionn. Once thee saïkalpa haas been complleted, the prieest, turning hiis back to the family and to the other o devoteees who havee gathered around the sannadhi, loooks toward øani ø and begin ns to present a range of off fferings to the god (Figg. 6). First, Gaanesh breaks a coconut intoo two halves and places them at thee base of thee shrine; such h a gesture sserves to preevent any obstacle from m occurring during d the cellebration of thhe ceremony. Then, he 15

The term rrefers to those ritual formulaae which are noot included in the Vedic texts. These mantras belongg to another prrestigious corppus of religiouss literature ulae within called Ɩgamaa. For a generall discussion on the importancee of these formu contemporaryy Hinduism, see H. Brunner, ‘Importance dee la litterature Agamique pour l’etude de la des religgions vivantes de l’Inde’, Inndologica Taurrinensi 3-4 (1975-76): 1007:24.

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takes some oof the flowerss brought by the t yajamàna and throws th hem, with reverence, toowards the må årti of øani. This T central phhase of the arccana may be characterrized by the offfering of otheer gifts, such aas vilvam leav ves, black or dark-bluee clothes (vàsttra), garlands (màlai), and iincense stickss (dhåpa). The numbeer of offeringgs presented to the grahaa is generally y directly proportionall to the socio-economic stattus of the yajaamàna.

Fig. 6: Recitation of o the aùñottiram m.

The ritual actions perfoormed by the priest are accompanied d by the recitation oof the øanai÷÷cara Aùñottaara øatanàmààvali‫( ۊ‬see section 2, below), the string of the 108 names off Lord øani, a list of epitheets (nàma mantra) exaalting the disstinctive featu ures of the ggraha. Each graha is endowed w with a personal aùñottiram. Even thouggh the ritual protocol would requiire the utteraance of all th he epithets, G Ganesh, in lin ne with a simplistic trrend shared by b all the prieests officiatinng in Suryanaaar Koyil, intones onlyy a selection of o them. The nàma mantraas actually sun ng by the priest includde the followiing from sectiion 2 (below)): nos. 1-2, 16-28, 3160 and no. 664. The lastt phase of thee arcana (dãp pàràdhana) invvolves the ceeremonial waving of thhe sacred flam me. Ganesh taakes his own ritual dish, containing the sacred aashes (vibhåtti) and a dãpaa, and makess it rotate thrree times, pointing to tthe eyes, chest and feet of th he deity (Fig. 7). The offeriing of the sacred flame is marked by b the recitattion of the øaani Yajurvediic mantra

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(see section 3, below), im mmediately folllowed by thee øani Bãja maantra (see section 4, beelow).

Fig. 7: Dãpààràdhana

After comppleting the dãpàràdhana, d the young ppriest approaaches the yajamàna aggain, who layys his hands on the sacred fflame and theen takes a little vibhåtti offered to him h by the priest (Fig. 8). This action brings b the øani arcana to an end.

F 8: Vibhåti distribution. Fig.

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Before leaving the temple, the ritual sponsor and his family do the pradakùiõa, a full circumambulation of the main temple building. As per the local rules, the ideal number of rounds should be 9, equal to the number of the astronomical deities included in the Navagraha group. The pradakùiõa must be done anticlockwise, so as to reproduce the direction in which the planets revolve around the Sun. This custom is not attested in other Tamil Shaivite temples, where people always do pradakùiõa clockwise, and further illustrates the close symbolic connection between Suryanaar Koyil and the solar system. Ritual phases

Ritual actions

Ritual texts

1. Saïkalpa

Priestly recitation of the yajamàna’s name, lunar and solar constellations, preceded and followed by other formulae (priest) A member of the yajamàna’s family places a small flame at the feet of the deity (devotee) A coconut is broken to remove any hindrance (priest) Vilvam leaves and other flowers are offered to the graha (priest)

Agamic mantra

5. Dhåpa (absent)

A stick of perfumed incense is lit (priest)

Aùñottiram

6. Vàstra (absent) 7. Dãpàràdhana

Presentation of a new cloth (priest) Ceremonial weaving of the sacred flame before the graha’s eyes (priest) A handful of sacred ashes are given to the yajamàna, together with a portion of the offerings previously given in tribute to the graha (priest + devotee) Circumambulation of the main temple building (devotee)

Aùñottiram

2. Dãpa 3. Coconut 4. Puùpa

8. Vibhåti and Prasàda distribution 9. Pradakùiõa

silence

Aùñottiram Aùñottiram

Yajurvedic mantra (or Gàyatrã mantra) + Bãja mantra silence

silence

Table 4: Structure of the øani arcana.

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øani arcana: typology and disposition of the ritual texts 1. Saïkalpa a) Ramesh namadehasyaত (Ramesh is the name of this body) Siüha rà÷i ujàtasya (born under the solar constellation of Leo) Maghà nakùatre (belonging to the lunar constellation Maghà) b) Raba [-namadehasyaত] (Raba is the name of this body) Maghà[-nakùatre ] (belonging to the lunar constellation Maghà) Simha rà÷iujàtasya (born under the solar constellation of Leo) c) Dipa [-namanyaত] Vç÷cika rà÷iujàtasya

(Dipa is the name of this body) (born under the solar constellation of Scorpio)

d) Revatã [-namanyaত] Revatã [-nakùatre] Mãna rà÷i ujàtasya

(Revatã is the name of this body) (belonging to the lunar constellation Revatã) born under the solar constellation of Pisces)

saha kuñumbana

(for the welfare of the entire family)

2. øanai÷cara aùñottara ÷atanàmàvaliত16 1. O§ øanai÷cara namaত 2. O§ øàntàya namaত 3. O§ Sarvàbhãùñapradàyine namaত 4. O§ øaraõyàya namaত 5. O§ Vareõyàya namaত 6. O§ Sarve÷àya namaত 7. O§ Saumyàya namaত 8. O§ Suravandyàya namaত

(Salutations to the One who moves slowly) (the peaceful One) (Fulfiller of all desires)

(the Protector) (the most excellent One) (Lord of all) (the mild One) (Who is fit to be worshipped by Suras) 9. O§ Suralokavihàrine namaত (Who wanders in the world of Suras) 10. O§ Sukhàsanopaviùñàya (the One seated upon a comfortable namaত seat) 11. O§ Sundaràya namaত (the beautiful One) 12. O§ Ghanàya namaত (the solid One) 13. O§ Ghanaråpàya namaত (with a solid form)

16 The translation has been derived from the one provided by Girish Sharma at www.sanskritforchanting.com (accessed 15 June 2012).

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Chapter Four 14. O§ Ghanàbharaõadhàriõe namaত 15. O§ Ghanasàravilepàya namaত 16. O§ Khadyotàya namaত 17. O§ Mandàya namaত 18. O§ Mandaceùñàya namaত 19. O§ Mahanãyaguõàtmane namaত 20. O§ Martyapàvanapàdàya namaত 21. O§ Mahe÷àya namaত 22. O§ Chàyàputràya namaত 23. O§ øarvàya namaত 24. O§ øatatåõãradhàriõe 25. O§ Carasthirasvabhàvàya namaত 26. O§ Acañcalàya namaত 27. O§ Nãlavarõàya namaত 28. O§ Nityàya namaত 29. O§ Nãlàñjananibhàya namaত 30. O§ Nãlàmbaravibhåùàya namaত 31. O§ Ni÷calàya namaত 32. O§ Vedyàya namaত 33. O§ Vidhiråpàya namaত

(the One who wears an iron ornament) (the One anointed with camphor) (the Light of the sky) (the slow One) (the slow moving One) (with glorious qualities) (the One -the worship atwhose feet purifies the mortals) (the great Lord) (the Son of Chàyà) (the One who injures) (Who bears a quiver of a hundred arrows) (Whose nature is to move steadily)

(the steady One) (the blue coloured One) (the eternal One) (with the appearance of blue ointment) (the One adorned with a blue garment) (the steady One) (the One who is to be known) (Who has the form of the sacred recepts) 34. O§ Virodhàdhàrabতåmaye (the Ground that supports obstacles) namaত 35. O§ Bhedàspadasvabhàvàya (the One whose nature is the place of namaত separation) 36. O§ Vajradehàya namaত (the One with a body like thunderbolt) 37. O§ Vairàgyadàya namaত (the Bestower of non-attachment) 38. O§ Vãràya namaত (the Hero) 39. O§ Vãtarogabhayàya namaত (Who is free of disease and fear) 40. O§ Vipatparampare÷àya (the Lord of successive misfortune) namaত 41. O§ Vi÷vavandyàya namaত (Who is fit to be worshipped by all) 42. O§ Gçdhravàhàya namaত (Whose mount is a vulture) 43. O§ Gåóhàya namaত (the hidden One) 44. O§ Kårmàïgàya namaত (with the body of a tortoise)

Astrology and its Ritual Applications 45. O§ Kuråpiõe namaত 46. O§ Kutsitàya namaত 47. O§ Guõàóhyàya namaত 48. O§ Gocaràya namaত 49. O§ Avidyàmålanà÷àya namaত 50. O§ Vidyàvidyàsvaråpiõe namaত 51. O§ âyuùyakàraõàya namaত 52. O§ âpaduddhartre namaত 53. O§ Viùõubhaktàya namaত 54. O§ Va÷iõe namaত 55. O§ Vividhàgamavedine namaত 56. O§ Vidhistutyàyanamaত 57. O§ Vandyàya namaত 58. O§ Viråpàkùàya namaত 59. O§ Variùñhàya namaত 60. O§ Gariùñhàya namaত 61. O§ Vajràmku÷adhàra namaত 62. O§ Varadàbhayahastàya namaত 63. O§ Vàmanàya namaত 64. O§ Jyeùñhàpatnãsametàya namaত 65. O§ øreùñhàya namaত 66. O§ Mitabhàùiõe namaত 67. O§ Kaùñaughanà÷akartre namaত 68. O§ Puùñidàya namaত 69. O§ Stutyàya namaত 70. O§ Stotragamyàya namaত

(the One with an unusual appearance) (the One who is despised) (Abounding in good qualities) (the One associated with the range of the senses) (Destroyer of the root of ignorance) (Whose nature is both knowledge and ignorance) (the Cause of long life) (the Remover of misfortune) (the devotee of Viùõu) (the self controlled One) (Knower of manifold scriptures) (Who is fit to be praised with sacred rites) (Who is fit to be worshipped) (the One with manifold eyes) (the most excellent One) (the most venerable One) (Who holds a thunderbolt-goad) (the One whose hands grant boons and remove fear) (the Dwarf) (the One whose wife is Jyeùñhà)

(the most excellent One) (the One with measured speech) (Destroyer of an abundance of troubles) (Bestower of prosperity) (Who is fit to be praised with hymns) (Who is accessible through hymns of praise) 71. O§ Bhaktiva÷yàya namaত (Who is subdued by devotion) 72. O§ Bhànave namaত (the bright One) 73. O§ Bhànuputràya namaত (Son of Bhànu, the Sun) 74. O§ Bhavyàya namaত (the auspicious One) 75. O§ Pàvanàya namaত (the Purifier) 76. O§ Dhanurmaõóalasamsthàya namaত (Who stays in the circle of Sagittarius)

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Chapter Four 77. O§ Dhanadàya namaত (the Bestower of wealth) 78. O§ Dhanuùmate namaত (the Archer) 79. O§ Tanuprakà÷adehàya (Whose body has a thin appearance) namaত 80. O§ Tàmasàya namaত (associated with the tamas guõa ) 81. O§ A÷eùajanavandyàya (the One who is fit to be worshipped namaত by all living beings) 82. O§ Vi÷eùaphaladàyiõe (Bestower of the fruit of namaত discrimination) 83. O§ Vaçãkçtajane÷àya (the Lord of living beings who have namaত accomplished self-control) 84. O§ Paç÷ånàmpataye (the Lord of animals) namaত 85. O§ Kheca÷àya namaত (Who moves through the sky) 86. O§ Khageçàya namaত (the Lord of planets) 87. O§ Ghananãlabaràya (Who wears a dense blue garment) namaত 88. O§ Kàñhinyamànasàya (the stern-minded One) namaত 89. O§ âryagaõastutyàya (Who is fit to be praised by a namaত multitude of âryas) 90. O§ Nãlacchatràya namaত (the One with a blue umbrella) 91. O§ Nityàya namaত (the eternal One) 92. O§ Nirguõàya namaত (without attributes) 93. O§ Guõàtmaõe namaত (the One with attributes) (Who is free from disease) 94. O§ Niràmàya namaত 95. O§ Nindyàya namaত (the blameable One) 96. O§ Vandanãyàya namaত (Who is fit to be worshipped) 97. O§ Dhãràya namaত (the resolute One) 98. O§ Divyadehàya namaত (with a celestial body) 99. O§ Dãnàrtiharaõàya (the Remover of the suffering of those namaত in distress) 100. O§ Dainyanà÷akaràya (Destroyer of affliction) namaত 101. O§ âryajanagaõyàya (the One who is a member of the ârya namaত people) 102.O§ Kråràya namaত (the cruel One) 103. O§ Kråraceùñàya namaত (Who acts cruelly) 104. O§ Kàmakrodhakaràya (the Maker of desire and anger) namaত 105. O§ Kalatraput÷açatrutvakàraõàya namaত (the cause of hostility of wife and son)

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106. O§ Paripoùitabhaktàya (the One whose devotees are namaত supported) 107. O§ Parabhãtiharàya namaত (Remover of the greatest fear) 108. O§ Bhaktasamghamano (The Bestower of the fruits that are 'bhãùñaphaladàya namaত desired in the minds of a multitude of devotees)

3. øani Yajurvedic mantra O§ øanno devã rabhiùñaya àpobhavantu pãtaye | øa§yorabhisravantu naত || (May the water-divinities be favourable to us and be suitable for drinking | may they eliminate diseases and descend on us ||)17

4. øani bãja-nàma-mantra O§ øam øani÷caràya namaত (O§ øam salutations to the One who moves slowly)

7. øani and its ritual texts: a source of astrological and astronomical information As we have seen in the previous section, among all the texts addressed to øani, the aùñottiram is no doubt the most useful to the students of Hindu astrology, since its nàma mantras explicitly refer to the graha’s multifaceted features, powers and personal tastes. In order to reinforce this concept, let me build up a profile of the øani on the basis of the information provided by his aùñottiram. Each feature mentioned in the following outline will be substantiated by a direct numerical reference to those nàma mantras where the information is presented. Lord øani, son of the Sun God (no. 73) and Chàyà (no. 22), is described as an archer (no. 78), armed with a hundred-arrows bow (no. 24) and a goad (no. 61). He is fond of blue ornaments and clothes (nos. 27, 29, 30, 90), and moves around riding a vulture (no. 42). As regards his astronomical behaviour and planetary attributes, øani is said to be moving slowly (nos. 1, 17, 18, 85), in agreement with the fact that it is the slowest of the planets of the solar system. He is described as the Lord of the 17

S. K. Ramachandra Rao, Navagraha Koùa, 2 Vols. (Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications, 1995), 217.

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planets (no. 86) who sees the constellation of Sagittarius as his natural abode (no. 76). From the astrological point of view, the highly-feared malefic inclination of øani is stressed as much as his benefic one. The planet Saturn is greeted as the one who injures (no. 23), supports the obstacles (no. 34), causes separation (no. 35), generates misfortune (no. 40), maintains ignorance (no. 50); he is the cruel one (nos. 102, 103) and the maker of anger and hostility (nos. 104, 105). Conversely, other nàma mantras depict the planet in a more positive way; that is, as the one who fulfills desires (no. 3), protects and purifies his devotees (nos. 3, 4), destroys ignorance (no. 49), causes long life (no. 51), removes misfortune and troubles (nos. 52, 67), grants boons and removes fear (no. 62). The compassionate side of øani’s soul makes him look like an accessible deity, worthy of being worshipped (nos. 41, 56, 57, 81, 89, 96) through rituals and sacred hymns (nos. 68, 70, 71). To conclude, a more detailed study of each of the 108 epithets contained within the øani aùñottiram would help scholars to gain a deeper view of the great variety of astrological and astronomical information included in this kind of repertory. The main difference between the øani aùñottiram and the øani Yajurvedic mantra is that, while the former has plenty of direct allusions to the astrological/astronomical properties of the graha, the latter doesn’t refer to the graha at all. In fact, it deals exclusively with the healing power of the sacred waters. Therefore, the connection between the ritual formula and the planet Saturn is here entirely symbolic. The choice of associating a mantra centred on the aquatic element with Saturn seems to derive from the fact that øani is the astrological significator of disease. By making reference to the waters, the Hindu ritual tradition, here represented by the voice of Ganesh, wants to evoke the greatest medicine of all—water—as a universal symbol of healing, whose strength is great enough to neutralize any obstructive force channelled by Saturn. For each graha, the ritual experts have prescribed the use of one and only Yajurvedic mantra.18 Despite its great symbolic power, the Suryanaar Koyil’s priests are allowed to substitute the øani Yajurvedic mantra with another mantra, the øani Gàyatrã, whose verses run as follows: “Om Païgupàdàya vidmahe, Såryaputràya dhãmahi, tanna manda‫ ۊ‬pracodayàt”. Translated into English, it would sound thus: “Let us meditate on the One who has a lame 18

Each of the branches of the Veda (৙gveda, K৚ৢ৆a Yajurveda, øukla Yajurveda, SƗmaveda, Atharvaveda) has come up with its own set of Navagraha mantras. In the case of Saturn, the mantra provided in this paper is common to all the branches, with the exception of the Atharvaveda.

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foot; oh God, you are the son of Surya, give us higher intellect. May the slow One illuminate our minds”. The gàyatrã portrays Lord øani as a slowpaced being and justifies his lame walk on the basis of a physical impairment. In this case, the text wants to metaphorically allude to the fact that Saturn is the slowest planet in the solar system. If there is a one-to-one correspondence between a graha and its Yajurvedic mantra, the same cannot be said in relation to its gàyatrã mantra. In fact, as Ganesh himself explained to me, each graha possesses more than one gàyatrã mantra. Within Suryanaar Koyil, the priestly class rely upon a special subset of gàyatrã mantras. What makes these mantras so special is that any reference to the weapons used by the Navagraha is carefully avoided. The officiants do so in order to equate the content of the words to the actual appearance of the Navagraha mårtis installed in the temple, which, as we already know, have all been sculpted without weapons. Outside the walls of Suryanaar Koyil, one of the most frequently recited øanigàyatrã mantra is the following: “Om Kàkadhvajàya vidmahe, Khadga Hastàya dhãmahi; tanno Manda‫ ۊ‬pracodayàt”. The reference to øani’s weapon—the sword—is found in the second section of the mantra: “Let us meditate on the One who has a crow painted on his flag; oh god, you have a sword in your hand, give us higher intellect; May the slow One illuminate our minds”. In the case of the øani Bãja mantra, the connection between the sacred formula and the graha is so intimate as to coincide with a portion of the name of the deity himself. In fact, as the local priests told me, the bãja (seed) of a given graha is obtained by adjoining the letter “m” to the first syllable of the graha’s name. As a result, since the first syllable contained in the name øani is “÷a”, his bãja will be “÷am”. The bãja is then included in a nàma mantra, starting with “o§” and ending with “øanaiç÷araya nama‫”ۊ‬. From a semantic point of view, by reciting this Bãja nàma mantra, the priest stresses once again the fact that the planet Saturn is the slowest one in the solar system; from an esoteric perspective, the presence of the untranslatable bãja “÷am” charges the mantra with an unspeakable power, whose ritual efficaciousness does not work on a logical plane but on a vibrational level. By calling øani through his own bãja, Ganesh synchronizes his prayer with the planet and asks him to reduce any negative influence he might be exerting on the yajàmana. When we consider the fact that the mantric utterances addressed to the Navagraha belong to a series of categories of Vedic and Agamic formulae which are normally used to propitiate the major gods of the Hindu pantheon, we can easily conclude that these astronomical entities are

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ritually treated as if they were identical to them. To the Hindu mind, øani and the other grahas are more than astrological symbols used to cast a horoscope or to reckon time for calendric reasons; they are more than giant clusters of inorganic matter floating in outer space. These celestial entities are places of conscious activity, divine beings, with whom people have the possibility to interact and dialogue, through ritual actions and sacred formulae performed by brahmanical priests within Hindu temples.

8. Conclusions In this paper I have shown how much we can learn from the study of the mantras related to the Navagraha and from their connection to the ceremonial activities going on in Tamil Nadu Shaivite temples. The intimate relation between astrology, astronomical deities and temple worship has been proven through the case study of the propitiation of the graha øani in Suryanaar Koyil. I have also presented evidence that their anthropomorphical receptacles are honoured according to ritual procedures similar to those employed to venerate the major gods of Shaivism. In addition, by analyzing the soundscape of a øani arcana, I have shown how a prescribed set of material and sonic offerings are used by Shaivite priests as remedial measures to balance the energies coming out of the planets and support the yajamàna and his dear ones, in the delicate process of coping with their own karmic outcomes. Therefore, astrology, to a Tamil Shaivite devotee, is not only a diagnostic tool used by astrologers to create natal charts and help people understand how their lives will evolve; its social function goes far beyond the reckoning of sacred time for calendric purposes. Astrology is an audible component of temple soundscapes, a philosophical substratum which informs the contents of the ritual utterances addressed to a special subset of astronomical entities: the Navagraha. While the Nakùatras and the Rà÷is serve the main purpose of identifying a given ritual sponsor and connecting his social identity—the name—to its astrological counterpart, the Navagraha are the ultimate aim of the devotional trajectory enacted during an arcana celebration. In the light of the ethnographical data discussed here, Suryanaar Koyil is to be considered as a formidable source of behaviours, beliefs and repertories which deserve to be carefully examined by all scholars interested in astrology.

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9. Suggestions for future research Comparative studies of the ritual application of the mantric utterances presented in this paper are essential to better understand how astrological concepts permeate Hindu ritual speech and provide a cosmic framework to ceremonial actions and festivals. A great number of ritual landscapes, observable in other Tamil temples associated with the Navagraha worship, are waiting to be filmed and analyzed. Better understanding of the role of astrology within Tamil Shaivism will only be possible by studying all the ritual soundscapes of the Navagraha temples located in the area of Kumbakonam. Further research might be carried out to see to what extent the Navagraha propitiation is prevalent outside the Indian subcontinent, for example, within the temples built by the Tamil Diaspora. Among the tasks that remain to be done are a critical edition of the aùñottirams addressed to each of the nine grahas and an in-depth study of the astrological correlations between the ritual performance in itself and its temporal coordinates, such as date and time. A more detailed study of the astrological backgrounds which drive a given individual to activate the performance of all temple rituals (arcana, påjà, abhiùeka and homa) addressed to the Navagraha must also be undertaken. As part of my future projects, I intend to continue working with members of the Tamil Shaivite brahmanical community to gather more data on the vibrational mechanisms linking ritual speech to the Navagraha. Finally, it would be interesting to apply the general approach used during my fieldwork, centred on the video recording of the ceremonies and the analysis of the mantras occurring therein, to other areas of the world, so as to understand whether or not non-Hindu cultures use ritual speech and songs to communicate with the cosmos and astrologically interact with its planetary energies.

PART TWO THE WEST: TEXTUAL ANALYSIS AND TRANSMISSION

CHAPTER FIVE A STUDY IN THE EARLY ICONOGRAPHY OF GEMINI MICAH ROSS

Abstract The division of the sky into twelve sections of equal size originated in Mesopotamia and was imported widely. The twelve zodiacal signs establish continuity among the astrological cultures of Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece, and India. Although the system of the zodiac remains intact throughout these borrowings, the iconography of individual signs can vary widely. In particular, the iconography of Gemini is well represented and allows detailed chronological study. Gemini has always been identified as a pair of humans but the gender and relationship of these individuals has been modified in conformity with local mythology and sensibilities. A comparison of the earliest Mesopotamian descriptions with the Egyptian representation reveals details about the process of transmission and the relationship of these cultures to the backdrop of Hellenistic civilization. Extension of this comparison to India reveals why India represented the third zodiacal sign as mithuna (the loving couple) and not yamau (the twin boys).

Preliminaries An analysis of the transformation of iconography during its transmission between several cultures depends on the model of transmission. A change in the model of transmission necessitates a reassessment of the patterns of preservation, comprehension, and interpretation exhibited by the transformation of the iconography. For roughly a century, historians have enjoyed a stable model for the transmission of the zodiac. According to this model, the Greeks borrowed the zodiac from Mesopotamia around 430 BCE. Then, after the conquest of Alexander III, the Ptolemies introduced the zodiac to Egypt. For the last half century, the model has extended a further transmission from Roman Egypt to India.

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A different model of transmission delays the introduction of the zodiac to Greece until after the conquest of Alexander III and proposes that the zodiac entered both Egypt and Greece at roughly the same time.1 This somewhat iconoclastic perspective informs this study of the conservation, perception, and modification of the iconography of the zodiacal constellation of Gemini. Although this study attempts to expand on a minority view, some details and clarifications of various incarnations of Gemini may prove useful to dissenters. Nonetheless, this bias in perspective demands an explicit declaration. The present study examines zodiacal iconography, including the names of zodiacal signs, their identification with stock characters such as gods and heroes or other culturally familiar elements, and their images, but does not directly compare the elements of uranographies, the maps of the night sky which identify particular stars with the elements of a constellation. Although some comparison might be made with the constellations named by Aratus, the bulk of Mesopotamian star lists do not conform to the standards presumably established by Hipparchus and elaborated by Ptolemy. A partial Mesopotamian uranography might be reconstructed through the names of the Normal Stars, but a modern reconstruction differs from ancient evidence. Likewise, the few detailed records of Egyptian stellar positions rely on decans and raise questions of interpretation. Nonetheless, the Greek uranographies and the later uranographies which derive from them incorporate elements of zodiacal iconography, but this study seeks to identify the characters represented by Gemini rather than carefully delineate their dimensions. Whereas linguistic transmissions have received extensive analysis, an abstract model for the transmission of iconography has yet to be proposed, revised, and widely accepted. Moreover, the zodiac presents a particular challenge because it is an abstraction which consists of several overlapping constituent parts. Even though scientific abstractions define the circle of the ecliptic, the notion of the zodiac includes a primary set of cultural interpretations; namely, an initial point of the circle, the number of divisions, and the specific stars in those divisions. The constellations represent a secondary level of cultural interpretation, but they are only partially created by humans. All cultures share some portion of the same, randomly-distributed stars, but which stars are grouped together and how these stars may be envisioned as images remains an arbitrary 1

Micah Ross, ‘The Role of Alexander in the Transmission of the Zodiac’, in Alexander the Great and Egypt: History, Art, Tradition, ed. Volker Grieb, Krzysztof Nawotka, Agnieszka Wojciechowska (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2014), pp. 287-306.

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interpretation, albeit within the constraints of a well-defined initial matrix. Thus, the characters which represent the constellations of the zodiac embody a tertiary set of cultural interpretations; specifically, the name of the zodiacal sign, the identity of the characters imagined in the constellations, and the iconographic attributes associated with that identity. If icons and images may be considered analogous to morphemes and sounds, a tentative analogy may be made to linguistic borrowings: the identities and attributes of the tertiary cultural interpretations may be reproduced without iconic reinterpretation (like loan words), reinterpreted by the recipient culture (like loan blends), or fully incorporated by the recipient culture (like loan shifts). For example, a figure wearing a gold crown may represent King Arthur. This image may be reproduced directly with a crown and a transliterated name even though neither element may have any iconographic significance to the importing culture (like loanwords). Alternatively, the figure may be reinterpreted, either at a high level of mythological and iconographic understanding, such as Barbarossa holding the globus cruciger, or at a low-level of understanding, such a figure with spiky, yellow hair (like loan blends). Or, King Arthur may be exchanged for the most iconic king-like person of the recipient culture, such as Washington or Mao, with little regard for the elements of the original image (like loan shifts). As the zodiac travels further in time and cultural distance from first millennium Mesopotamia, the iconography of the zodiac preserves evidence of such transformations in the course of its transmission.

Mesopotamia As Mesopotamian astronomers developed their system of reference constellations into a rigorous, zodiacal coordinate system, they adopted the constellation of “the Great Twins” (MUL.MAŠ.TAB.BAGAL.GAL.LA) as a point of reference. Pre-zodiacal texts of Mesopotamia recognized both Greater and Lesser Twins among the constellations, but the proto-zodiacal Normal Stars used to note celestial positions do not include the Lesser Twins.2 Thus, either the zodiacal sign includes only stars from the Great Twins or the two constellations were collapsed together before the establishment of the Normal Stars. Consequently, although occasionally 2

Abraham J. Sachs and Hermann Hunger, Diaries from 652 B.C. to 252 B.C., Vol. 1 of Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia, Denkschriften der Philosophisch-Historische Klasse 195 (Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1988), 17-19.

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written as a grammatical dual (MAŠ.MAŠ), the name of the zodiacal sign presumably refers to the two Great Twins, rather than the two sets of greater and lesser twins. Finally, although the constellations are described as twins, no Mesopotamian text clarifies whether this appellation refers to their parentage or their status as double objects.3 At least three cuneiform texts associate the Great Twins with divinities, but whether these associations constitute identifications is not clear. First, a text of the Middle Assyrian Period, now called “Astrolabe B”, associates the constellation of the Great Twins with the divine personages of Nabu and Lugal.4 In “Astrolabe B”, the constellation of the Little Twins follows immediately after the Great Twins and connects the Little Twins with Lugalgirra and Meslamtaea. The fact that other cuneiform texts associate the Great Twins with Lugalgirra and Meslamtaea prompts two explanations: either “Astrolabe B” suffers an error of displacement or the two sets of twins were later collapsed into one constellation. Because it frequently associates the same deity with several constellations, “Astrolabe B” may preserve only a divine association and not an explicit identification. “Astrolabe B” shares continuity with a second composition titled 5 MUL.APIN. Copies of MUL.APIN have been assigned dates as early as 687 BCE but the astronomical information indicates a date closer to 1000 BCE. MUL.APIN records the Great Twins in a list of celestial bodies and associates them with the gods Lugalgirra and Meslamtaea. However, some constellations of inanimate objects are associated with anthropomorphic deities. For example, the titular MUL.APIN, the Plough Star, appears next to the god Enlil. However, a third text preserves the tradition of associating the constellation of the Great Twins with Lugalgirra and Meslamtaea. A list of stars and gods from Borsippa follows MUL.APIN by linking the Great Twins with Lugalgirra and Meslamtaea, but adds another pair of personages: Sin, the god of the moon, and Nergal, a god of pestilence. These new gods either clarify the shadowy characters of Lugalgirra and Meslamtaea through syncretism or represent alternate identifications, with

3 For double objects described as twins, see The Assyrian Dictionary, s.v. tnjҶamu, 2. 4 For “Astrolabe B”, see Erica Reiner and David Pingree, Ennjma Anu EnlƯl: Tablets 50-51, Babylonian Planetary Omens 2; Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 2.2, (Malibu: Undena, 1981), IX.2-4. 5 Hermann Hunger and David Pingree, MUL.APIN: An Astronomical Compendium in Cuneiform, Archiv für Orientforschung Beiheft 24 (Horn: Berger, 1989).

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the result that Mesopotamians associated at least four and as many as six deities with the Great Twins.6 Although it declines to identify the twins by name, the so-called “Description of the Night Sky from Assyria” presents a written description of iconographic attributes of the Great Twins.7 Because the establishment of the iconography derives from a written description, the text may be reproduced: 4. 5. 6. 7.

mul

MAŠ.TAB.BA GAL.GAL: 2 ‫܈‬al-mu, zi-i[q-nazaq-nu, kur-ku-r]a šak-nu, 1 [ . . . . . . . . 2] MULmešinarê[ši-šu-nu i]‫܈‬-ru . ‫܈‬al-muma‫ې‬ru-ú, šáma‫ې‬ratmulisli-e, ‫ې‬i-in-šiinaqâtiim[itti-š]í na-ši. ‫܈‬al-muarku-ú UD.SAR pa-a-šainaqƗtšumƝli-šú [n]a-ši.

Translation by the author 4. The Great Twins: 2 figures. They are bear[ded with a beard]. They are wearing [kurkur]a 5. 1 [ . . . . . . . . 2] stars [ma]rk [their he]ads. 6. The front figure, who is before the “Jaw of the Bull,” brandishes a whip in [his] right hand. 7. The rear figure brandishes a sickle-axe in his left hand.

This brief description establishes three iconographical attributes. First, the third person plural stative of zaqnu confirms that both figures are bearded and thus male. Secondly, the “Front Twin”, Į Geminorum among the Normal Stars, holds a whip. Thirdly, the “Rear Twin”, ȕ Geminorum, holds either a sickle-axe or a sickle and an axe, either of which may be interpreted as a lunar attribute.8 The text implies two more iconographic attributes. In conformity with later iconography, the figures are unequally equipped. Another iconographic attribute, the arrangement of the figures, may be deduced from this description: the figures face each other and bear weapons in their opposite hands. Meslamtaea stands to the front; 6

H. C. Rawlinson, ‘A Selection from the Miscellaneous Inscriptions of Assyria and Babylon’, Vol. 5, Part 2 of The Cuneiform Inscriptions of Western Asia (London: Harrison, 1909), pl. 46. 7 Ernst F. Weidner, ‘Eine Bescheibung des Sternhimmelsaus Assur’, Archiv für Orientforschung 4 (1927), 73-85. 8 For UD.SAR pƗšu as “sickle-axe”, see The Assyrian Dictionary, s.v. mašu, 2; as “sickle [and] axe”, see The Assyrian Dictionary, s.v. pƗšu, d, where Beaulieu adds ina ŠUII 15-šú pa-a-šú [n]a-áš (in his left hand an axe is carried), from the Morgan Library Collections, 1866, ii, 3.

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Lugalgirra stands behind. Later iconography suggests that the middle hands may have been joined. Finally, Weidner has restored a portion of line 4 to read “[kur-kur]ašak-nu”, in parallel with the first line of the reverse of the same tablet. Weidner read the unknown kurkurru as a type of clothing because the verb šakƗnu implies that this element of the description was not carried.9 However, the description of Eru from which Weidner made his restoration, as well as the descriptions of the Old Man, the Little Twins, Eru, and the Great One, describes the clothing of the constellation with another phrase: lubuštum, “clothed”. In fact, in the descriptions of the Old Man, the Little Twins, Eru and the Great One, lubuštum appears as the second element of the description. Thus, three points suggest that kurkurru is not a type of clothing. First, Eru would be clothed twice. Secondly, the Great Twins would break compositional unity of the ‘Description of the Night Sky from Assyria’ by not announcing clothing as the second element of the description. Third, the female Eru and the male twins would share the same garment. While iconographic elements change between cultures, the interchange of an explicitly named garment in Mesopotamian descriptions with specified nudity in Greek iconography merits consideration. Context may clarify the meaning of kurkurru. Aside from this restoration, the word kurkurru occurs in conjunction with only two other constellations: Eru (identified with the single star “The Frond of Eru”, known from the ziqpu stars as Ȗ Comae Berenices) and the Old Man (now Perseus).10 Although the letter which mentions kurkurru in the constellation of the Old Man explains that the word means “Venus stands with the foot of the Old Man star”, this clarification derives from the difficult and seemingly contradictory tradition of astrological interpretation. Moreover, nothing suggests that the “Description of the Night Sky from Assyria” would include ephemeral planetary phenomena among the nearly uranographical details. More relevant to an interpretation of kurkurru are the fact that Eru, the Old Man, and the Great Twins all intersect with the Milky Way and the resemblance of kur-ku(r)-ra to KUR.KUR.RA, the Sumerian dative for foreign lands or mountains frequently used as an ideogram in post-Sumerian compositions.

9

The Assyrian Dictionary, s.v. kurkurru, but also s.v. šakƗnu, 1f-g. For the ziqpu stars, see Hunger and Pingree, Astral Sciences, 69. For the occurrence with Eru, see Weidner, ‘Beschreibung’, 76. For the occurrence with the Old Man, see Hermann Hunger, Astrological Reports to Assyrian Kings, State Archives of Assyria 8 (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1992), No. 380, 218. 10

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Egypt Like Babylon, Egypt records the earliest appearance of Gemini as a listed name rather than an image or description. A Demotic text, published as Strassburg D 521, associates each zodiacal sign with a month.11 Because the Egyptian calendar had only 365 days, a correspondence of the months with the signs can be established for some time between 370 BCE and 130 BCE, with a perfect fit at 250 BCE. This date has been disputed on the grounds of paleography. While astronomical texts can relate to past events, whether the astronomical details of a text establish the relative dates of paleographic development or whether paleographical conformity directs the interpretation of an astronomical composition depends on the methodological biases of the investigator. Whether or not the astronomical date is accepted, this ostracon demonstrates an interesting choice of words to translate “the Great Twins”. Egyptians renamed the Great Twins as nA ‫ۊ‬tr. This root first appeared in an Old Kingdom in reference to a team of oxen.12 By the Eighteenth Dynasty, the root had extended to refer to a team of horses, then to the horse itself, and finally migrated from animal to human contexts. A Twenty-Second Dynasty amulet counts ‫ۊ‬tr among undesirable congenital anomalies, perhaps conjoined twins. Notwithstanding the dire occurrence on the amulet, ‫ۊ‬tr begins to appear as a personal name in the Twenty-Fifth Dynasty. However, the amulet and the personal name need not use ‫ۊ‬tr in the same sense: two twins named ‫ۊ‬tr would be impractical and the name occurs too frequently to reliably indicate twins. The name ‫ۊ‬tr and its dual ‫ۊ‬tr.ti, also used as a name, both occasionally include the animal skin determinative, implying that the name should be understood as “horse” or “team”, rather than “twin”. Other Egyptian names derive from animals: pAib (gazelle), kA (bull), or mAi (lion).13 By this interpretation, the name of the zodiacal sign ‫ۊ‬tr may recall the horsewhip in the hand of Meslamtaea. Because of the pictographic nature of Egyptian hieroglyphs, even the writing of the word ‫ۊ‬tr incorporated iconographic elements. In most cases, the hieroglyphic writing of ‫ۊ‬tr is nearly alphabetic. However, in astronomical uses, the writing often appears as an ideogram which seems 11

O. Neugebauer, ‘Egyptian Planetary Texts’, Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, ns. 32, part 2 (1942), 246. 12 Wörterbuch der Aegyptischen Sprache, s.v. ‫ۊ‬tr. For the sources on twins in Egypt, see John Baines, ‘Egyptian Twins’, Numen, ns. 54 (1985), 461-482. 13 Erich Lüddeckens, Demotisches Namenbuch (Wiesbaden: Reichert), s.v. ‫ۊ‬tr, ‫ۊ‬tr.t, pAib, kA, and mAi.

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to recapitulate either the constellation or its iconography. The tall unilateral grapheme for ‫ ۊ‬appears twice and invokes the head and body of two figures. A cross-stroke was added as if to represent the linked arms of the figures. The use of an ideogram to write the name suggests the hands were linked, an interpretation supported by a gesture of joined hands in many Egyptian images of the characters of Gemini. In the Ptolemaic Era, this gesture may be read as the ideogram for snsn, “to join, or fraternize”, which highlights the unexpected use of nA ‫ۊ‬tr to name the constellation. However, as an Egyptian plural noun, nA ‫ۊ‬tr indicates little about the gender of the characters of the constellation. The article nA describes masculine nouns, feminine nouns, and plurals of mixed gender. The first Egyptian interpretations of the Great Twins appeared in the celestial ceilings of temples and assimilated these characters with Egyptian gods already familiar from astral contexts, namely Shu and Tefnut. Shu and Tefnut had appeared on coffin lids as astral deities, arguably since the First Intermediate Period.14 The siblings Shu and Tefnut were married and until the Late Period Egyptians described both their consanguinity and marital status with the term sn. With the advent of Demotic, sn became restricted to consanguinity, while ‫ۊ‬m.t or s‫ۊ‬m.t referred to women and hy or ‫ۊ‬wt denoted men in their procreative capacities. Thus, the appellation of the constellation nA ‫ۊ‬tr represents an innovation for Shu and Tefnut. Both Shu and Tefnut have been observed to reflect a lunar character: Shu appears in conjunction with Khonsu and Thoth, two other Egyptian moon gods, and Tefnut bears a lunar epithet, “the Left Eye of Re”.15 As the traditionally second element of the pair, Tefnut seems more likely to recall the variant identification of Lugalgirra with the moon god Sin and the sickle or sickle-axe of Lugalgirra. Moreover, in the Demotic “Myth of the Sun’s Eye”, Tefnut meets an unequally paired team (‫ۊ‬tri) of a horse and a 14

The paleographic date has been disputed but bears little upon the interpretation. Because the coffin lid is wood, dendrochronology might decide the issue better than paleography. 15 For Khonsu-Shu with a lunar crescent, see Félix Guilmant, Le Tombeau de Rameses IX, Mémoires publiés par les membres de l'Institut français d'archéologie orientale du Caire 15 (Cairo: l'Institut français d'archéologie orientale, 1907), pl. 48. For the relationship of Thoth to Shu, see C. J. Bleeker, Hathor and Thoth, Studies in the History of Religion 26 (Leiden: Brill, 1973): 114-116; and Phillipe Derchain, ‘Mythes et dieux lunaires en Egypte’, in La lune: Mythes et rites, Sources Orientales 5 (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1962): 19-68. For the epithet of Tefnut, see the Metternicht Stela, l. 150. For the funerary texts which identify the “Left Eye of Re” with the “night-bark of Re”, see J. F. Borghouts, The Magical Texts of Papyrus Leiden I 348 (Leiden: Brill, 1971), 46.

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donkey in her travels.16 One twin has changed gender but the early Egyptian interpretation of the Great Twins as Shu and Tefnut preserves equine and lunar aspects of the characters. However, the bulk of Egyptian private funerary zodiacs portray Gemini as two men. Two explanations may account for this difference. Either the interpretation aegyptiaca enabled foreign constellations to appear in Egyptian temples or the private images represent a variant zodiacal tradition, either more faithful to Mesopotamian sources or more Hellenized than the Egyptian temples. Several points support the latter hypothesis. First, the depictions of the Great Twins in the celestial ceilings of temples are earlier than the private tombs. Secondly, most of the private funerary zodiacs come from tombs whose owners had Greek names. Third, Shu and Tefnut occasionally appear in private funerary zodiacs well after the temple zodiacs. Finally, at least one Hellenized depiction of Gemini from an Egyptian tomb presents the twins as a naked man and a woman (as indicated by breasts).17 Against the artistic conventions of Egypt which preferred profiles, these figures appear en face and carry no identifying inscriptions or iconographic attributes. The Egyptian representations of Gemini preserve a wide range of iconographic attributes. By their association with Shu and Tefnut, the figures of the zodiacal sign claim an array of attributes. Shu occasionally wears the pardalide (leopard skin and tail) of priests and kings and the ostrich-feather headdress which indicates his name; Tefnut adopts leonine forms, wearing the itn-disk headdress which invokes lunar (or solar) attributes and carrying an anx. (Oddly, neither figure appears with their distinctive scepters.) However, aside from the lunar aspects of Tefnut, these iconographic attributes only serve to identify the characters in the image and vary too much to relate reliably to the zodiacal constellation or its iconographical predecessor. The iconographic attributes implied by the name of the constellation, their gesture of joined hands, and their unequal pairing conform better to the Mesopotamian characters.

Greece Whereas the Egyptian plurals imply little about the genders of the singular objects, Greek plurals express three genders. A masculine plural could 16

Wilhelm Spiegelberg, Der ägyptische Mythus vom Sonnenauge (Strasbourg: Schultz, 1917), 44, col. 17, l. 18. 17 Jürgen Osing et al., Denkmäler der Oase Dachla (Mainz am Rhein: von Zabern, 1982), pl. 40 (and possibly 41).

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represent either exclusively masculine objects or objects of mixed gender. Thus, the Greek name of the zodiacal sign, įȓįȣȝȠȚ, could denote either two male twins or a mixed gender pairing, such as the Egyptian Shu and Tefnut. This grammatical feature may be relevant because the earliest Greek sources describing the zodiac preserve few descriptive details. The first surviving Greek source to describe the figures of the zodiac, Aratus, repeatedly mentioned a plural, masculine set of twins in his Phaenomena (275 BCE). For the most part, Greek and Latin references to Gemini follow the form of Aratus: no names are given to the masculine, plural pair. Manilius (ca. 20 CE) declined to name the figures, but described them as naked and having entangled arms; other authors writing in Greek, including two Egyptians, Teucer of Babylon and Manetho (both first century) who would presumably have been familiar with Shu and Tefnut, decline to identify the twins in Gemini.18 All that is certain from these authors is that at least one of the twins was male. Eratosthenes, if the surviving summary, condensation, and revision of his work can be accepted as representative of Eratosthenes, did identify the twins of Gemini around 250 BCE. Eratosthenes identified the twins of Gemini as the Dioskouroi, Kastor and Polydeukes, popularly equated with Gemini today. With this identification, Eratosthenes interpreted the twins by a strategy of assimilation. Like the astral deities Shu and Tefnut, the Dioskouroi had been identified as “stars” as early as Euripides.19 Although the accounts of their birth vary, the mortal Kastor is often described as the son of Tyndareus while the immortal Polydeukes is regarded as the son of Zeus. Although better termed half-brothers, Kastor and Polydeukes preserve several elements of the Mesopotamian twins. First, because one was mortal and the other immortal, they were unequal in power. Secondly, like the Mesopotamian twins, they are both male. Third, the twins were distinguished by a helmet called the pilos, which may have echoed the headdresses of Lugalgirra and Meslamtaea.20 Finally, the Dioskouroi recall

18

Manilius, Astronomica 2.163, 184 and 511. For a guide to the range of identifications, see A. Bouché-Leclercq, L’astrologie grecque (Paris: Leroux, 1899), 136-137, although the citations are somewhat weak. 19 Euripides, Helen 138, but also Callimachus, Lauacrum Palladis, 23-25. 20 For the pilos as emblematic of the Dioskouroi, see Apuleius, Asinus Aureus, 10.30. For the horned headdress of Lugalgirra and Meslamtaea, see Anthony Green, ‘The Iconography of Meslamtaea’, Revue d’Assyriologie et d’Archéologie Orientale 82 (1988): 173.

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equine attributes because they were praised since the Homeric hymns for their horsemanship.21 Although Kastor and Polydeukes emerged as the most popular identification, they were not the only twins identified with Gemini. Varro (116-27 BCE) first suggested Apollo and Herakles, while Hyginus (64 BCE-17 CE), reported a welter of characters identified with the twins of Gemini but did not cite sources.22 The authorship and date of the Poeticon Astronomicon has been disputed on the basis of its similarity to Ptolemy. However, Hyginus may not have directly depended on Ptolemy; the two may have shared a common source in Hipparchus. In the Tetrabiblos, Ptolemy developed the identification of the twins with Herakles and Apollo. The iconography of these twins, if not the identification, has persisted: the twins often hold a club and lyre. Despite the fact that Ptolemy did not assign any stars to these instruments in the Almagest, these iconographic attributes have endured into modern uranographies. Half of this identification may derive from the interpretatio graeca of Nergal with Herakles, but Apollo displays solar attributes unlike the Mesopotamian moon-god Sin.23 Also, Herakles already had a twin: Iphikles.24 Notwithstanding the authority of Ptolemy, the identification of Herakles with an independent, non-zodiacal constellation may have hampered the widespread acceptance of Apollo and Herakles. Aratus first counted Herakles among the constellations, and if continuity may be assumed across the Ptolemaic corpus, Ptolemy invited confusion by placing Herakles twice among the stars.25 Thus, although the twins of Gemini borrow iconographic attributes from Hercules and Apollo, the identification with the Dioskouroi prevailed among Greek sources, with two stars being named after each of the Dioskouroi.

India The YavanajƗtaka first described the zodiacal sign of Gemini in Sanskrit. The available text of the YavanajƗtaka survived in essentially only one manuscript, written on palm leaves and slightly deteriorated. Since the discovery of this manuscript, the history of the YavanajƗtaka, and thus the 21 Alcman, Alcman: introduction, texte critique, témoniages, traduction et commentaire, ed. Claude Calame (Romae in Aedibus, 1983), fr. 2. 22 Varro, De Re Rustica 2.1.7; (Ps.-) Hyginus, Astronomica 2.22. 23 Ted Kaizer, ‘The ‘Heracles Figure’ at Hatra and Palmyra’, Iraq 62 (2000): 219232. 24 Credit for this observation is due to Michael York. 25 Ptolemy, Almagest 7-8 and Tetrabiblos 1.9.

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introduction of horoscopic astrology to India, has been based on information preserved in the last three verses: in 269/270, Sphujidhvaja rendered a prose translation of Greek into Sanskrit made by YavaneĞvara in 149/150 into verse. Recently, Michio Yano has located another version of the YavanajƗtaka which challenges this history but the details remain under development. The YavanajƗtaka betrays its origin through many Greek loanwords but also preserves Egyptian (or Egyptianizing) details, such as descriptions of the decans and, according to Pingree, the iconography of Gemini.26 Traditionally, the Indian iconography of Gemini derives from a single half-verse of the YavanajƗtaka which both names and describes the zodiacal sign: 01.016a 01.016d 01.016a 01.016d

27mithunaূt৚tƯyaত… krƯঌƗratidynjtavihƗrabhnjmiত The third (zodiacal sign) is a couple bearing a wooden lute and a scepter… (It is the place) of playing, sensuous delight, gambling, (and) recreation.

The first word is a restoration, but a reasonably secure restoration because it comes from the V‫܀‬ddhayavanajƗtaka, which quotes the YavanajƗtaka and expands upon it. The text describes the third zodiacal sign as a “couple” and assigns them the attributes of the lute and scepter, much like the lyre and club of Apollo and Herakles. These iconographic attributes of Mithuna derive from the Greek identification of the figures, but the YavanajƗtaka declines to identify the figures. In fact, the understanding of the gender of the figures of Gemini derives not from an explicit description of the couple (although 62.50a comes close), but from conformity with the wider use of mithuna as a sexual coupling.28 Although the author selected mithuna over the more direct expression yama, mithuna need not imply mixed genders. In the Rig Veda, mithuna refers to doubled objects, non-sexual couples, yoked animals, and even twins.29 The 26

David Pingree, ‘The YavanajƗtaka of Sphujidhvaja’, Harvard Oriental Series 48 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1978), 2.196. 27 Restored from a citation by Minaraja, V‫܀‬ddhayavanajƗtaka, 1.04a. 28 Prithvi Agrawala, Mithuna (New Delhi; Munshiram Manoharlal, 1983), X31-34, pl. 96-103. 29 For the spokes of an astronomical wheel, see RV 1.164.11, oblations RV 1.173.2, names RV 3.54.7, equal shares RV 4.45.1. For non-sexual pairs of men, see RV 1.131.3 and 1.144.4; of worshippers, see RV 5.43.15 and 9.97.37; of deities, see RV 10.88.11; of magical practitioners, see RV 7.104.23 and 10.87.24. For yoked

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Yajur Veda, Mahabharata, and B‫܀‬hat SaۨhitƗ preserve similar non-sexual references to complementary pairs.30 By this interpretation, the YavanajƗtaka preserves only the variant identification of Apollo and Herakles and the sexual interpretation may derive from the identification of one twin with Herakles. Although Plutarch reported that his affairs among men were too numerous to count, Herakles did not seduce Apollo.31 By some readings of Euripedes’ Alcestis, the two may have shared a lover, Admeton, but a direct connection remains elusive. The Sanskrit identification seems heterosexual: if iconographic attributes can be linked with astrological apodoses, the astrological association of Gemini with wives and sexual pursuits seemingly confirms the understanding of the pair as a couple of mixed sex.32 Nothing among the astrological content of the YavanajƗtaka indicates homosexuality. If the sexual nature of Mithuna is accepted, its iconography may relate to the paths of the transmission of Gemini.

Conclusions The iconography of Mithuna permits several explanations. First, the sexual activity and the mismatched gender of Mithuna may derive from the transmission of Egyptian images through a Greek intermediary. This intermediary Greek source may have adopted Egyptian traditions before the introduction of astrology to India. As noted before, a tradition of mixed sex twins might have passed unnoticed in colorless Greek compositions such as lists of zodiacal signs, but the lyre and club presumably would have unambiguously identified Herakles and Apollo to a Greek audience. Moreover, by the middle of the second century, depictions of Gemini as Shu and Tefnut were declining even in Egypt. animals, see RV 8.33.18. For twins (including the AĞvins), see RV 1.159.4, 3.39.3, 10.10.2, 10.10.9 and 10.40.12. For couples of mixed sex, see RV 1.83.3, 1.179.3, and 10.99.5. 30 Mithuna occurs too frequently to catalogue, but Monier Williams, sv. mithuna 817 includes “the other part, complement or companion of anything”. 31 Plutarch, Erotikos 761d. 32 For rati (“amorous enjoyment”), see also 4.6a, 19.12a, 60.22d; for a۬gana, see 19.14a bahva۬gas (“with many wives”), 60.17b a۬ganƗ…nimitta (“an omen concerning his wife”), 60.18a a۬ganƗ…siddhi (“accomplished with wives”), 60.23c a۬ganƗkhyƗ (“thinking of his wife”) and 78.5; for strƯ (“women”), see 58.3ab, i‫ܒ܈‬astrƯsa‫ۦ‬gama (“meeting desirable women”), 60.21a strƯr‫܈‬ya (“jealousy of a woman”), 60.22a strƯkalaha (“fighting with a woman”), 60.23d strƯ..do‫܈‬a (“faults in a woman”) and 62.50a pu‫ۦ‬strƯ (“man and woman”); for nƗrƯ, see 69.3.

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Secondly, a Sanskrit writer for whom the iconographic attributes did not identify the characters may have merged the Greek and Egyptian traditions. This interpretation requires that the Sanskrit author had access to either Egyptian sources or Greek reports of Egyptian sources, as the discussion of the decans indicates.33 The direct access to Egyptian sources by an Indian writer would be surprising, but Egyptian images might be readily understood (and explain the lack of names preserved for either the decans or the individual twins). With regard to a Greek report of foreign sources, while some Greek sources openly discuss the interpretatio graeca of gods, no Greek discussion of the Egyptian zodiac survives. Finally, the sexual activity and the mismatched gender of Mithuna may represent an Indian strategy of identification by assimilation. The similarity to Egypt may be coincidental. Indian tradition had already established the iconography of the loving couple of Mithuna before the introduction of western astral sciences.34 However, if the Indian writer opted for a strategy of assimilation, the AĞvins—twin celestial deities renowned for their horsemanship—seem better suited than a mere artistic motif. The wife of the AĞvins already served as the first star of the nakĞatras and the equivalence of the AĞvins with the Dioskouroi has long been noted. However, this strategy may have been pre-empted if the Greek source which informed the YavanajƗtaka declined to mention the Dioskouroi. If the iconographical elements of the club and lyre failed to identify the figures of the constellation, nothing would prevent the association of the zodiacal sign with an extant artistic motif. Thus, barring an overestimation of the sexual nature of Mithuna, the Greek tradition had incorporated Egyptian elements before its arrival in India, a Sanskrit writer chose to merge two variant traditions, or the Indian writer introduced a transformation of gender strikingly similar to that of Egypt.

33 34

Pingree, YavanajƗtaka, II 252-253. Agrawala, Mithuna, 33.

CHAPTER SIX VARIOUS RENDERINGS OF ȆȓȞĮȟ IN GREEK AND DEMOTIC AT MEDƮNET MƖঋI DORIAN GIESELER GREENBAUM MICAH T. ROSS

Abstract The modalities by which the Greek word pinax entered Demotic texts reveal different strategies used by Demotic scribes for adopting loan words. The ostraca of Medînet Mâdi form a linguistically significant corpus. Comprised of both Greek and Demotic texts, these ostraca represent the compositions of a small group of people working in a limited area, within a generation of each other, and capable of communicating with each other. Despite this common ground, the scribes of Medînet Mâdi used different Greek renderings, employed different strategies for adopting the word, transliterated it differently, and possibly used the word in different technical senses. Whereas Medînet Mâdi represents a socio-linguistically unified adoption of pinax, this use can be compared to other uses of pinax as a loanword in Demotic and bilingual texts. Particularly relevant is the London-Leiden Magical Papyrus, which represents a compositional unity. The other texts, including the LondonLeiden Magical Papyrus, were subject to different motives and employ different transliterations for pinax. However, the astrological context of these passages fits the astrological character of the Medînet Mâdi material. A linguistic model for the adoption of technical loanwords may be borrowed from other area studies. This model demands modifications and refinements specific to Demotic.

Linguistic Contexts The village of MedƯnet MƗঌi, ϲοΎϣ ΔϨϳΪϣ (‘Village of the Past’), stands at the southwest of the Fayyum, an inland lake once fed by canals built during the Twelfth Dynasty. The Arabic name derives from a tale that the

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town was destroyed by Muslims because of the obstinacy of a Christian king of Egypt. In fact, the Fayyum shrank naturally and MedƯnet MƗঌi was only intermittently occupied after the Roman era. Ancient Egyptian inhabitants called the town Niw.t-Rnn.t (‘City of the Cobra Goddess’) after its patron deity and Greeks rendered this name ȃĮȡȝȠȣșȚȢ.1 The temple of Renenutet has preserved 1,555 inscribed potsherds (ostraca) from the end of its occupation in the early third century CE. This archive preserves a rare insight into the astrological documentary texts of a bilingual community. The bilingualism of the MedƯnet MƗঌi archive appears vividly in the scripts on the ostraca. More than 600 ostraca contain exclusively Demotic writing and slightly fewer than 500 use solely Greek letters. Editors have divided the ostraca by script and published the texts separately but some ostraca challenge modern conventions. About 350 ostraca record predominantly Demotic with some Greek and about 70 present Greek compositions with Demotic insertions. Finally, about 10 ostraca reproduce hieratic graphemes, often glossed in Old Coptic, which uses Greek letters (with some additions) to clarify Egyptian words. Old Coptic glosses often represent magical names for which pronunciation was considered important but some longer Old Coptic compositions record astrological topics. Thus, the MedƯnet MƗঌi archive preserves two languages in four scripts, two of which (Greek and Old Coptic) are closely related. The roughly 350 Demotic ostraca with Greek insertions and their nearly 70 Greek counterparts illustrate linguistic borrowing at MedƯnet MƗঌi. Although the frequency of Egyptian words entering Greek may be reduced by recourse to Old Coptic, Egyptian words enter Greek composition chiefly as names and toponyms. Greek words, however, enter Demotic texts more frequently.2 Greek appears in transliterations using Demotic characters, as alphabetic additions to Demotic compositions, and as a source of translation. In fact, all these strategies can appear in the same composition. For example, ODN 27 transliterates the name Antoninus as the loanword Antnn in the first line, peppers the composition with foreign words like ȝȠȚȡȦȜȠȖȠȢ and ȤȡȠȞȠțȡĮIJȦȡ,3 and translates 1

For the impropriety of accents on Egyptian place names, see Willy Clarysse, ‘Greek Accents on Egyptian Names’, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 119 (1997): 177-184. 2 The Egyptian predilection for adopting Greek words forms a joke in ODN 5. See Edda Bresciani, Ostraca Demotici da Narmuti (Pisa: Giardini, 1983), 10-11. 3 Unaccented on ODN 27. For the interchange of Ȧ and Ƞ Egypt, see F. Gignac, Grammar of the Greek Papyri, Vol. 1 (Milan: Cisalpino - La Goliardica, 1975), 277. For a further discussion of ȝȠȚȡȦȜȠȖȠȢ, see infra, note 44.

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ȞȣȤșȒȝİȡȠȞ as grH-mtr. Thus, a single ostracon necessitates a review of linguistic borrowing. Although the model of linguistic borrowing is still being modified, a synthesis of the basic model by Anttila inspired Yano to collect and analyze the evidence of linguistic borrowing from Greek by Sanskrit.4 ‘Foreign words’ preserve script and orthography, while ‘loan words’ transliterate and modify the orthography of the original word. ‘Loan shifts’ translate technical terms or similarly reapply metaphors. ‘Loan blends’, though, introduce an ambiguity which challenges the primacy of phonetic representation. In loan blends, the recipient language employs nearly homophonic morphemes to represent a word of foreign origin. The identification of astrological loan blends by Yano has important ramifications for linguistic borrowing from Greek by Demotic, which generally begins with a reconstruction of the Egyptian attempt to render Greek with an imperfect set of phonemes. No such reconstruction is necessary for linguistic borrowings from Greek by Sanskrit. Greek phonemes form a subset of the Sanskrit phonemes and are expressible in devanagari script. Nonetheless, Indian importers of Greek terminology did not always attain phonetic exactitude in their reproduction of Greek terms, nor did they seem to strive for phonetic accuracy. Among the Sanskrit loanblends, a particularly Egyptian example appears in the third chapter of the Sanskrit YavanajƗtaka which discusses the iconography of the decans. The Greek word įȑțĮȞȠȢ conforms to Sanskrit phonetics and the capabilities of devanagari, yet it is not consistently transliterated. In fact, the direct rendering *dekanos (*‘ȯ €“Ȫ  Q) never appears in Sanskrit. Metrical necessity may explain the variants d‫܀‬kƗ۬a (ȒLJNj), d‫܀‬kkƗ۬a (¯¯ ȕ, with no effect on the preceding syllable) and drekkƗ۬a (¯¯ ȕ, with lengthening of the preceding syllable) but another rendering, dreĞkƗ۬a, appears in some instances. DreĞkƗ۬a shares the same meter as drekkƗ۬a. DreĞkƗ۬a, however, permits a reading: ¥d‫܀‬Ğ + kƗ۬a, ‘looks with one eye’. Through this reading, dreĞkƗ۬a could be justified as 4

For a survey of the development, see Els Oskaar, ‘The History of Contact Linguistics as a Discipline’, in Kontaktlinguistik: ein internationales Handbuch zeitgenössischer Forschung, ed. Hans Goebl et al., Komunikationswissenschaft 12 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1996), 1-12. For the model used by Yano, see Raimo Anttila, An Introduction to Historical and Comparative Linguistics (New York: Macmillan, 1972), 154-178. The contents and pagination of this reference remain valid for editions made after Michio Yano, ‘Greek Words Borrowed in Sanskrit Astronomical and Astrological Texts’, Bulletin of the International Institute for Linguistic Sciences Kyoto Sangyo University 8.3 (1987): 74-85.

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an allusion to the Egyptian tradition of drawing figures in profile. Like most loanblends, this reading misrepresents the original phonemes but creates an explanation for the choices. Taken out of context and as straightforward explanations, such folk etymologies are not convincing, but Sanskrit literature preserves many such dubious nirukta (nir ‘out’ + ¥vac ‘speak,’ often translated as ‘etymology’ with particular reference to a VedƗ۪ga), which offer insights into the forces of word formation at play in the creation of loanblends. In this case of dreĞkƗ۬a (and that of MedƯnet MƗঌi), context establishes the linguistic borrowing and phonetic accuracy plays a secondary role. Within the context of linguistic borrowing, words like ȝȠȚȡȦȜȩȖȠȢ, ȤȡȠȞȠțȡȐIJȦȡ and ȞȣȤșȒȝİȡȠȞ appear relatively rarely in non-specialist texts and form the category of technical terms, which exhibit several tendencies.5 First, technical terms are highly specific and thus standardized. As a result of this specificity, technical vocabularies refer to a limited range of meanings. Also, technical terms are non-judgmental. Finally, in many languages, technical terms appear in nominal constructions more easily than verbal constructions. Thus, by using ir ȝȠȚȡȦȜȠȖȠȢ rather than *ȝȠȚȡȠȜȠȖİȚȞ, ODN 27 conforms to a pattern common to loanwords and Greek technical vocabularies. Greek speakers often generated technical terms through suffixes and compounding, two techniques less accessible to Demotic speakers. Instead, Egyptian speakers appropriated existing terms, used metaphors, and made linguistic borrowings for names, exotic items which had not existed in Egypt previously, and technical vocabulary. The astral vocabulary of Demotic borrows technical terms, chiefly from Greek. The Greek origin of Demotic technical terms does not preclude any Egyptian development in the astral sciences, but does indicate the context of this science. In order to understand the process of importation and standardization by which Demotic created a technical term, the word ʌȓȞĮȟ may serve as an example.

Greek Uses of Ȇ઀ȞĮȟ The standard Greek-English lexicon edited by Liddell, Scott and Jones serves as a starting point for the definitions of pinax operational at 5

For an introduction to the patterns of Greek technical terms with specific examples, see Francesca Schironi, ‘Technical Languages: Science and Medicine’, in A Companion to the Ancient Greek language, ed. Egbert J. Bakker (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2010), 338-353.

Various Renderings of ȆȓȞĮȟ in Greek and Demotic at MedƯnet MƗঌi 113

MedƯnet MƗঌi.6 The word first appears in Homer’s Odyssey with the sense definition of ‘board, plank’ and later denotata of pinax represent broadenings of this usage.7 While a board or plank is normally flat and wooden, a pinax could also refer to metal objects, and then, by extension, to any flat object used in a similar way. The first denotatum is a ‘drawingor writing-tablet’, and by metonymy the tables, catalogues or lists that would be written on such tablets.8 Tabula in Latin has a similar semantic field. Thus, the pinax is both a tablet and a table: the physical object serves as a metonym for the way in which it is used. Two other denotata—a ‘board for painting on, picture’ and ‘plate with anything drawn or engraved on it’9—implicitly acknowledge this linguistic relationship. Thus, a pinax could be either a drawing or a text.10 In culinary contexts, pinax is the word for a platter or trencher,11 i.e. something flat (plank-like) on which to place food. Pinax also demonstrates a semantic narrowing: from the use as a ‘drawing- or writing-tablet’, pinax also denotes the ‘board or tablet on which astronomical tables were drawn’,12 and, by metaphor, the method of astrological interpretation which uses these tables (here LSJ cites Plutarch [46-120 CE], Life of Romulus 12.3: “Tarutius ... had applied himself to the procedure that is based on the ‘pinax’…”).13 For present purposes, this last definition of pinax (which may need emendation) holds the most interest.

6

H. G. Liddell, R. Scott and H. S. Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon, 9th edition (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996) [hereafter LSJ]. 7 LSJ, s.v. ‘ʌ઀ȞĮȟ’, 1405. Od. 12.67 is cited in LSJ; citations from Odyssey are the oldest listings in the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae [hereafter TLG] (online database of Greek texts at http://stephanus.tlg.uci.edu), as well. 8 LSJ. 9 LSJ. 10 An example in which both meanings combine is the Ȁ੼ȕȘIJȠȢ Ȇ઀ȞĮȟ, The Tablet of Cebes, a moral text popular in the second century CE which centres around the meaning of a drawing (pinax) on a tablet (also pinax). 11 LSJ. 12 LSJ. The entries under ‘Pinax’ in Der Neue Pauly/Brill’s New Pauly do not include astrological uses, though the Pinax of Critodemus is mentioned under the entry for that astrologer. 13 ‘ȉĮȡȠ઄IJȚȠȢ … ਖʌIJંȝİȞȠȢ į੻ IJ੽Ȣ ʌİȡ੿ IJઁȞ ʌ઀ȞĮțĮ ȝİșંįȠȣ…’, trans. Stephan Heilen, based on B. Perrin in Plutarch, Lives, Vol. 1 (1967 repr.; London/Cambridge, MA: William Heinemann Ltd. and Harvard University Press, 1914), 121, in ‘Ancient Scholars on the Horoscope of Rome’, Culture and Cosmos 11 (2007): 47.

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Survey of ʌ઀ȞĮȟ in Greek Sources The TLG yields 2,413 instances of pinax or forms of pinax in its entire corpus.14 When narrowing the search to astrological texts (as defined by the TLG), 43 instances of pinax or grammatical forms of pinax result (using the same criteria as in the first search).15 However, other astrological citations of pinax may occur since the word in its astral sense also appears in historical texts, magical texts (e.g. the Papyri Graecae Magicae) and at least two literary texts. Plutarch’s description above is an example of an historical text which enriches the definition of pinax and demonstrates the metalepsis of pinax from a piece of physical astrological equipment to the practice of astrology by the first- or second-century CE.

Ȇ઀ȞĮȟ as an Astrological Board Among magical texts, PGM CX uses pinax for the astrological board in the context of casting a katarchic chart: “Let the stars be set upon the board”.16 A literary text employs the same connotation: the Alexander Romance describes Nectanebo’s pinax, on which he sets out the planets at the best moment for Alexander to be born, as “…an astrological board… divided into three bands, which had in the first circle the 36 decans, in the second the 12 zodiacal signs, and in the middle the Sun and Moon…”.17 This description corresponds well with extant boards used to show the results of chart calculation for clients. These boards use a uniform background to show the zodiacal signs, decans, astrological terms (੖ȡȚĮ),

14

The methodology was to search for ‘pina-’ and eliminate hits which do not come from a form of pinax. 15 Using the same methodology as in note 14. The 43 references include duplication of the same phrase in variant and repetitive parts of the same text. 16 ‘…țİ઀ıșȦ į੻ ਥʌ੿ IJȠ૨ ʌ઀ȞĮțȠȢ ਕıIJ੼ȡİȢ...’. Translation in Z. M. Packman, ‘Instructions for the Use of Planet Markers on a Horoscope Board’, Zeitschrit für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, 74, 1988: 85-95, here 92. A katarchic chart is cast for a moment chosen by the astrologer as the best astrologically to begin an endeavour. 17 I, 4.5, 4.17, 19-20; 5.1 Kroll (Pseudo-Callisthenes, Historia Alexandri Magni, ed. W. Kroll (Berlin: Weidmann, 1926): ‘…ʌ઀ȞĮțĮ…IJȡȚȤ੺ȡĮțIJȠȞ ȗ૵ȞĮȚȢ, ਥʌ੿ ȝ੻Ȟ IJȠ૨ ʌȡઆIJȠȣ ț઄țȜȠȣ įİțĮȞȠઃȢ ਩ȤȠȞIJĮ IJȠઃȢ Ȝࢫ࢝, ਥʌ੿ į੻ IJȠ૨ įİȣIJ੼ȡȠȣ ȗ૴įȚĮ IJ੹ Țȕ࢝, ਥʌ੿ į੻ IJȠ૨ ȝ੼ıȠȣ ਸ਼ȜȚȠȞ țĮ੿ ıİȜ੾ȞȘȞ…’.

Various Renderings off ȆȓȞĮȟ in Greeek and Demottic at MedƯnet MƗঌi 115

F 1. The Dareessy Table.18 Fig.

Fig. 2. Thee Glass Disc fro om the Kharga O Oasis.19

18

Photograpph of a squeezze made by Georges G Dares sy (location of o original presently unkknown); reproduuced from G. Daressy, D ‘L’Égy gypte céleste’, Bulletin B de l'Institut Frannçais d'Archéollogie Orientale 12 (1916): 1-344, plate 2.

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etc. These backgrounds could be individualised with planetary and other markers placed in the appropriate spots for a particular client’s chart.20 The fact that these boards could be made of wood, metal, ivory or glass demonstrates the semantic broadening of pinax, although the sense definition remained constant. Almost all of the surviving boards have Egyptian connections, whether through the use of decans, or the inclusion of another Egyptian system (namely, the dodecaoros) on the boards, or their provenances.21

Uses of ʌ઀ȞĮȟ in Greek Authors on Astrology Authors of astrological treatises employ pinax in various ways: some in the uses previously discussed, others compelling slightly different interpretations. Thrasyllus (d. 36 CE) penned a Pinax to Hierocles.22 The summary of the contents shows that a pinax was equivalent to a primer of astrological basics, covering the zodiacal signs, the movements of the Sun and Moon, the seven-zone system, the planets, the divisions of the chart into four kentra (angles), succedent and cadent places (topoi), a lengthy 19 M.-D. Nenna, 'De Douch (oasis de Kharga) à Grand (Vosges): un disque en verre peint à représentations astrologiques', Bulletin de l'Institut Français d'Archéologie Orientale 103 (2003): 355-375, here Figure 6, page 375. 20 See examples in J. Evans, ‘The Astrologer's Apparatus: A Picture of Professional Practice in Greco-Roman Egypt’, Journal for the History of Astronomy 35 (2004): 1-44. 21 E.g., the Tablettes de Grand, the decanal divisions of which show figures with marked Egyptian features: see J.-H. Abry, ed., Les tablettes astrologiques de Grand (Vosges) et l'astrologie en Gaule Romaine: actes de la Table-Ronde du 18 mars 1992 organisée au Centre d'Études Romaines et Gallo-Romaines de l'Université Lyon III (Lyon: University of Lyon III, 1993); the Daressy Table found by G. Daressy in an antique shop in Cairo in 1901 containing a representation of the dodecaoros, an astrological system with clear Egyptian roots, see F. Boll, Sphaera: Neue griechische Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der Sternbilder (Leipzig: B.G. Teubner, 1903), 304-306; Evans, ‘The Astrologer's Apparatus’, 9); the Tabula Bianchini, which, though found in Rome in 1705, also contains an image of the dodecaoros (see Boll, Sphaera, 306-308 and Plate 5); the Tanis Zodiac, a glass disc found by Petrie, see W. M. F. Petrie, Tanis. Part I., 1883-4 (London: Trübner & Co, 1885), 48-49; O. Neugebauer and R. Parker, Egyptian Astronomical Texts, Vol. 3 (Providence: Brown University Press, 1969), 205-207 and Plate 47C; and a glass disc from the Kharga Oasis containing Egyptian-style decanal figures (M.-D. Nenna, ‘De Douch à Grand’, 355-375). 22 Found in Parisinus Graecus 2425, excerpted in CCAG 8/3, 99-101. It is a summary of the (presumably much lengthier) Pinax.

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description of each of the places, etc. The first-century CE astrologer Critodemus also wrote a Pinax cited by the fifth-century CE astrologer Hephaestio of Thebes (b. 415 CE) (see Apotelesmatika II, 10.41).23 Hephaestio lists eight astrological conditions in which Critodemus claims a child will die shortly after birth (i.e., die ‘without nourishment’).24 The scope of these citations suggests that Critodemus’s Pinax was more than just a table or catalogue,25 but either something like a primer of astrological techniques or the delineation of an astrological method such as Plutarch described. Claudius Ptolemy (ca. 100-178 CE)26 uses the adjectival form of pinax in Book III of his astrological work known as the Tetrabiblos or Quadripartitum (original Greek title: Apotelesmatika). Chapter 7 exhorts the reader to consider how Ptolemy previously dealt with male and female (see Tetrabiblos I.6.2, I.13.4), “in the way we set out in the ‘tabulated’ expositions (ਥȞ IJĮ૙Ȣ ʌȚȞĮțȚțĮ૙Ȣ ਥțșȑıİıȚȞ) at the beginning of the Syntaxis [i.e., the Tetrabiblos]”.27 As a whole, Book I discusses the basic components of the astrological chart: descriptions of planets and signs and their powers, aspects, fixed stars, houses, triplicities, exaltations, terms and phases of the planets. The similarity of these topics to those in the Pinax of Thrasyllus suggests that as a literary genre, a pinax could be the collected explanations of the components of a material pinax, laid out in an organised (‘tabulated’ or ‘catalogued’) fashion.

23 Hephaestio of Thebes, Apotelesmaticorum libri tres, ed. David Pingree, 2 Vols. (Leipzig: B.G. Teubner, 1973), here Vol. 1, 114-115. 24 The title of the chapter is ‘Ȇİȡ੿ ਕIJȡંijȦȞ’. According to Critodemus, astrological causes of such deaths include luminaries in the last degrees of a zodiacal sign, the Moon conjunct the lunar nodes and aspected by the Sun or Mars, malefics (Mars or Saturn) in stronger positions than luminaries, or an Ascendant in the last degrees of a zodiacal sign. 25 Pace W. Hübner, who suggests that the ‘Pinax’ excerpts cited by Hephaestio here are ‘wohl eher eine Tafel als ein ganzes Werk’ in ‘Kritodemos’, in Hubert Cancik and Helmut Schneider, eds., Der neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, Stuttgart 1996, http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/der-neue-pauly/ kritodemos-e623330 (accessed 24 Jan 2012). 26 See O. Neugebauer, A History of Ancient Mathematical Astronomy, 3 Vols. (Berlin/Heidelberg/New York: Springer-Verlag, 1975), 834. Neugebauer cites F. Boll, Studien über Claudius Ptolemäus: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der griechischen Philosophie und Astrologie (Leipzig: B.G. Teubner, 1894), 64. 27 ‘…țĮș’ ੔Ȟ ਫ਼ʌİșȑȝİșĮ IJȡȩʌȠȞ ਥȞ IJĮ૙Ȣ ʌȚȞĮțȚțĮ૙Ȣ ਥțșȑıİıȚȞ ਥȞ ਕȡȤૌ IJોȢ ıȣȞIJȐȟİȦȢ…’ (III, 7.2, 192.406-407 Hübner). Another use (adverbial: ʌȚȞĮțȚț૵Ȣ) with the same reference to Book I appears in Book II, 1.1.

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Vettius Valens (b. 120 CE) encourages the budding astrologer to acquire “an ‘organised (as in a catalogue)’ and natural theory of the stars and zodiacal signs”.28 In this instance, ‘ʌȚȞĮțȚțૌ’ may further describe ‘ijȣıȚțૌ’ or may stand in contrast with it. Valens may mean an education organised like a table that considers the importance of nature to astrology rather than a random, haphazard familiarity with the topic. Or, he may deliberately contrast the two words because he considers the pinax emblematic of astrology (Plutarch’s ‘method according to the pinax’) and the latter representative of astronomy, the physical features and cycles of the cosmos. In contrast to astrological pinakes, the pinax of the Anonymous writer of 379 CE on the fixed stars unambiguously denotes tables of fixed stars, though few such tables have been found in the extant manuscripts.29 Also in the fourth century, Paulus Alexandrinus (fl. 378 CE) uses the same phrase, ‘ʌȚȞĮțȚț੽ ਩țșİıȚȢ’, as Ptolemy to introduce an exposition of the twelve places of the astrological chart in fairly extensive detail.30 Again, a sense of both ‘organised’ and ‘pertaining to astrological features’ may apply here. Paulus’s sixth-century commentator, Olympiodorus, changes ‘਩țșİıȚȢ’ to ‘ਥʌ઀ıțİȥȚȢ’ (ʌȚȞĮțȚț੽ ਥʌ઀ıțİȥȚȢ), but uses the phrase to denote Paulus’s previous examinations of several topics.31 Finally, a seventh-century CE compiler of astrological techniques, Rhetorius, uses the phrase ‘ਥʌ઀ıțİȥȚȢ ʌȚȞĮțȚț੾’. Ǿis ‘organised astrological examination’ consists of seven parts, the first concerning the viability of the newborn and the others dealing with specific astrological components of the chart: 2) triplicity rulers, fixed stars and bright degrees; 3) the Moon; 4) new- or full-moon births; 5) the Lots of Fortune, Daemon, Basis and Exaltation; 6) the lunar nodes; 7) the dodekatƝmoria of the planets, luminaries and Ascendant. Within the text, Rhetorius uses pinax unambiguously to mean ‘chart’: ‘…if they are in masculine zodiacal signs 28

IV, 11.14, 164.17 Pingree. ‘…IJૌ ʌȚȞĮțȚțૌ țĮ੿ ijȣıȚțૌ IJ૵Ȟ ਕıIJȑȡȦȞ țĮ੿ ȗ૳įȓȦȞ șİȦȡȓ઺’. 29 The author frequently refers to tables (e.g. CCAG 5/1, 196.15; 197.16, 26; 198.1, 3, 10, 11; 209.8), but the primary manuscript ascribed to him (Cod. Ang. 29, ff. 136-143v) does not include them. Later Byzantine derivatives (Par. Gr. 2506 and Ven. 7 [Marcianus 335], CCAG 5/1, 219-226, include lists within textual descriptions of effects. There is a separate list of degrees injurious to the eyes, dated to 488 CE [CCAG 5/1, 226.11-21], not called a pinax). 30 Paulus Alexandrinus, Introduction, Ch. 24 (53.22 Boer): ‘ Ȇİȡ੿ IJોȢ IJ૵Ȟ įȫįİțĮ IJȩʌȦȞ ʌȚȞĮțȚțોȢ ਥțșȑıİȦȢ’. 31 Olympiodorus, Commentary on Paulus (ed. Boer), 11.2, 49.5, 78.19, 100.12, 103.1. He also mentions a pinax of the lots (56.1), which sounds like a straightforward table.

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or in feminine quadrants of the chart…’.32 Thus, by the seventh century, pinax in its astrological connotations could encompass a physical ‘astrological board’, a technical description of the board’s components, and simply a ‘chart’ (usually thema in Greek). The adjective ʌȚȞĮțȚțંȢ, which once connoted ‘plank-like’, ‘tabular’, ‘tabulated’, ‘catalogued’ or ‘organised’ can also refer to part of an astrological chart and the techniques associated with it. The same section in the Greek Rhetorius appears in Latin form in the Liber Hermetis, chapter 16, where ਥʌ઀ıțİȥȚȢ ʌȚȞĮțȚț੾ has become ‘in figurativa consideratione’, ‘in chart consideration’33 (with figura being the Latin equivalent of ș੼ȝĮ). This Latin translation provides a clue to the accreted meanings of the adjectival form of pinax from strictly ‘tabular’ to ‘chart factor’, and the noun pinax from astrological board to the (metaphorical) chart which could be laid out on that board.

Ȇ઀ȞĮȟ and the London-Leiden Magical Papyrus The astrological connotations of ʌ઀ȞĮȟ direct the Demotic use of the word as shown by the London-Leiden Magical Papyrus, first edited by Griffith and Thompson,34 as part of the Anastasi collection purchased in sections by Leiden and London, and eventually recognised as the same papyrus.35 This may be the most famous bilingual magical papyrus, in terms of both length and content. The complete spell relevant to the word pinax combines Demotic and Greek. Demotic appears at the beginning and end of the spell, with Greek sandwiched in the middle. The petitioner seeks the aid of Imhotep (associated with astrology)36 in casting a chart for the best 32

İੁ ਥȞ ਕȡıİȞȚțȠ૙Ȣ ȗ૳įȓȠȚȢ İੁı੿Ȟ ਲ਼ ਥʌ੿ șȘȜȣțȠ૙Ȣ IJİIJĮȡIJȘȝȠȡȓȠȚȢ IJȠ૨ ʌȓȞĮțȠȢ (CCAG 8/4, 118-119.1). Another example: ‘Outcomes from the twelve places of the chart’; ‘ਝʌȠIJİȜȑıȝĮIJĮ IJȠ૨ ʌȓȞĮțȠȢ IJોȢ’ (CCAG 8/4, 126.12). 33 See Hermes Trismegistus, De Triginta Sex Decanis, (Hermes Latinus, Tome IV, Part 1), ed. Simonetta Feraboli (Turnhout: Brepols, 1994), 51. ‘Figura’ is normally equivalent to Greek ș੼ȝĮ, meaning the chart itself. 34 F. Ll. Griffith and H. Thompson, The Demotic Magical Papyrus of London and Leiden, 3 Vols. (London: H. Grevel (Vols. 1 and 2); Oxford: Clarendon Press (Vol. 3), 1904-1921). 35 See the history of the papyrus and its scholarship in J. Dieleman, Priests, Tongues, and Rites: The London-Leiden Magical Manuscripts and Translation in Egyptian Ritual (100-300 CE) (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2005), 25-29. 36 See O. Neugebauer and H. B. Van Hoesen, Greek Horoscopes (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1959 (repr. 1987)), 42, No. 137c, line 6: ‘Asclepius, that is Imouthes, son of Hephaestus’ (ĮࣂțȜȘʌȚȠȣ Ƞ İࣂIJȚȞ ȚȝȠȣșȠȣ ȣࡄȚࡄȠࣂ ȘijȘࣂIJȠȣ); also Firmicus, III, 1.1 (ed. KSZ I, 91.12-13): ‘…itaque…voluerunt

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moment to bbegin a matteer.37 After instruction in Deemotic for making the proper prepaarations for thhe place and objects o used inn the ritual (liines 1-8), the Greek too be spoken is given (linees 9-19), folloowed by instrruction in Demotic to prepare for reeceiving the chart c (lines 200-22). Pinax appears a in this final secction, which finds f the propeer time for thee petitioner to begin his desired ‘maatter’ (aS-sHn in Demotic,, ʌȡ઼ȖȝĮ in Greek).38 Written W in Demotic unni-literal graphhemes and deeterminatives,, pinax appeaars in the papyrus in ccol. IV, lines 21 2 and 22:

secuti Aescullapium et Hanuubium… ’. ‘So o [Petosiris andd Nechepso] wished…to w follow Aescuulapius and Hannubis….’ For more m on Asclepiius-Imhotep and d the chart in Greek Horoscopes, see G. R. S. Mead d, Thrice Greaatest Hermes: Studies in Hellenistic Thheosophy and Gnosis, G Being a Translation off the Extant Serrmons and Fragments off the Trismegisstic Literature with Prolegom mena Commentaries and Notes (York B Beach, ME: Sam muel Weiser, 1906, repr. 19922), 320-22, 324--26. 37 The title oof the spell mayy refer to chart-casting. For ssSm-St, ‘puissan nt formule d’invocation’, see Eugène Revillout, R ‘Papy yrus magique dde Londres et de Leide’, Revue égyptoologique 14 (1914): 33. Most modern m discussiion derives from m Griffiths and Thompsoon, who read thhe titular first liine of the spelll as sS-mSt, enigmatically translated as ‘scout-spreadeer’, perhaps derrived from thee verb sS, to beeat. Ritner n H. D. Betz, ed., The Greek Magical reads SS mSt,, ‘a casting forr inspection’, in Papyri in Traanslation, including the Demotic Spells, 2nd eedition (Chicag go/London: University off Chicago Presss, 1992), 200 n. 59. Thissen reeads sS-mSt butt translates the compounnd as ‘Ein Entw wurf einer Un ntersuchung’ inn R. Merkelbacch and M. Totti, Abrasaax II (Opladen: Westdeutscherr Verlag), 19911, p.78 and n. 2. Thissen notes that aftter receiving the chart (Entwu urf), the petitionner will hand itt over to a priest for insppection (Unterssuchung). The compound c worrd is otherwise unattested but a full anallysis exceeds thhe present scopee. 38 In the maggical papyri, thee word ʌȡ઼ȖȝĮ often designatees the particulaar desire of the petitionerr, but pragma is also used in ‘katarchic’ astrology, in which the astrologer chhooses the besst day to begin an action, based on the fortunate placement off planets on thaat day and at th hat time (see, e..g., the use of pragma p to mean a kataarchic chart ass opposed to a natal chart in, e.g., Olym mpiodorus, Commentary on Paulus’s Inntroduction: ‘every nativity aand every sort of matter’ (...ʌ੺ıȘȢ ȖİȞ੼ıİȦȢ țĮ੿ ਥʌ੿ ʌĮȞIJȠ઀Ƞȣ ʌȡ੺ȖȖȝĮIJȠȢ..., ch. 116, 30.3-4 Boeer; sim. at 30.12, 18; 322.16, 21; 47.15; 65.19; 89.2-3, 12). The CDD D (Vol. a, 135) defines d aSsHn as ‘order,, affair, businesss, matter, inten nt’—almost an iidentical seman ntic field to pragma.

Various Renderings of ȆȓȞĮȟ in Greek and Demotic at MedƯnet MƗঌi 121 [21] Hr ir.k wAH wa pyngs n aS-wnw.t Hr nA tb.tw; mtw.k wAH nA syw.w Hr A.t.f; mtw.k sX pAy.k aS-sHn r wa Dam n mAy [22] mtw.k wAH.f Hr pA pynaks; xr ir.f di-iw nAy.k syw.w n.k, iw.w wDA Xr pAy.k aS-sHn Translation of lines 20-22 You place a board for horoscopy [lit. ‘reading the hours’] upon the bricks, and you place the stars upon it [lit. ‘on its back’], and you write your matter on a new roll of papyrus, and you place it on the board. He makes your stars appear to you when they are favourable for your matter.

Astrological Context of the Magical Papyrus The astrological context of the spell provides guidance for the meaning of pinax in the Magical Papyrus.39 This spell has similarities with at least two other magical spells. First, PGM XXXVI.214-230 suggests the creation of a katarchic chart40 and ends with “...make the matter which I want, by your power”.41 Secondly, PGM CX, mentioned above, includes both a divine voice speaking to the petitioner and the instruction to ‘lay out the stars on the board’ for the creation of a katarchic chart. Thus, the three examples implicate katarchƝ. On this basis of this context, a possible technical term emerges. The adjective wDA means not only ‘safe’ or ‘healthy’ but also ‘correct’.42 A parallel appears in Greek katarchic charts, which are cast at the ‘right moment’ for a successful undertaking. For example, Vettius Valens uses the phrase “țĮȜ੽ ੮ȡĮ”,43 which could be translated, like wDA, as ‘favourable’. Thus, a standard astrological example supports the magical usage of a properly cast katarchƝ.

39

Col. V, ln. 1 contains another masculine, astrological implement associated with the constellation, the Foreleg (Ursa Major). The poor state of preservation prevents explicit identification of this implement as a pinax. 40 See the reasons for this in D. G. Greenbaum, The Daimon in Hellenistic Astrology: Origins and Influence (Leiden/Boston: Brill 2015), 199-200. 41 PGM XXXVI.229-230 (ed. Preisendanz II, 170): ‘…ʌȠȓȘıȠȞ, ੔ ȕȠȪȜȠȝİ ʌȡ઼ȖȝĮ, IJૌ ıૌ įȣȞȐ[ҕȝ]Ț’. Line 20 of London-Leiden contains a similar sentiment: ‘He [the god] speaks with you directly, mouth to mouth, in truth, concerning everything that you wish.’ 42 CDD, s.v. wDA. 43 Valens, Anthology, IX, 12.28-31, ed. Pingree, 341.25-342.3; the phrase țĮȜ੽ ੮ȡĮ at 341.28, 32. See the discussion in Greenbaum, The Daimon in Hellenistic Astrology, 41-42.

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Analysis of pinax in the text The two occurrences of pinax are written in different ways, but both end with the wood determinative. The gender in both instances is masculine. Pinax is a masculine noun in Greek as well. The appearance of pinax in the astrological portion of the text strongly suggests an astrological use. From the context and the determinatives used, pinax here does not mean ‘description of an astrological technique’ like that found in Ptolemy or Paulus because such a usage would necessitate the star, rather than the wood, determinative. Nor is this pinax the simple ‘chart’ of Rhetorius. The other likely astrological meanings, then, are either ‘astrological table’, i.e., a table of daily planetary positions (ephemeris) used in chart calculation; or an ‘astrological board’ to lay out a chart for a client. The two transliterations of pinax could differentiate different denotata.44 Specifically, pyngs in line 21 could denote a ‘table’ rather than ‘board’. However, the wood determinative, rather than the writing determinative, suggests a (wooden) board. That the meaning of the word was unfamiliar in a Demotic context can be seen in the qualifying explanation, ‘for horoscopy’.45 However the following phrase, ‘place the stars upon it’, implies a different interpretation. This use of ‘stars’ (despite 44

Variations in transliteration can differentiate between the denotata of loanwords.

In Japanese, फ़ছ५ (ga-ra-su) refers to plate glass and ॢছ५ (gu-ra-su) denotes drinking glass. 45 The Demotic is n aS-wnw.t, translated by Thissen as ‘zum Ablesen der Stunden’, by Johnson and by Dieleman as ‘for reading the hours’. (Betz, GMP, 201 and Dieleman, PTR, Appendix 4.4 A, 313.) Because of the similar semantic fields of the elements (aS = -ȜȠȖȠȢ, wnw.t = ੪ȡં-), some relationship presumably connects aS-wnw.t and ੪ȡંȜȠȖȠȢ. Chaeremon, the first-century CE priest and Stoic philosopher, used ੪ȡંȜȠȖȠȢ to mean ‘astrologer’, the priest who observed astronomical phenomena. See Chaeremon of Alexandria, Chaeremon: Egyptian Priest and Stoic Philosopher. The fragments collected and translated with explanatory notes, ed. Pieter Willem van der Horst (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1987), 2223 and n. 59. See also F. Cumont, L'Égypte des astrologues (Brussels: La Fondation égyptologique Reine Élisabeth, 1937), 124, who mentions that one function of such priests was ‘déterminer, d’après les étoiles, l’heure favorable pour commencer quelque entreprise, ce qui est la doctrine des “initiatives” astrologiques (țĮIJĮȡȤĮ઀)...’. Possibly the verb aS-wnw.t means ‘to function as an imy-wnw.t priest’ and may parallel the term aS-sw.w because decanal hours were marked by stars. Moreover, this process of rendering elements of a foreign phrase with words from similar semantic fields may clarify the origin of ȝȠȚȡȦȜȠȖȠȢ (aS = -ȜȠȖȠȢ, sHn = ȝȠ૙ȡȠ-), notwithstanding the possibility of other writers rendering the word as ʌȡ઼ȖȝĮ, such as in the London-Leiden Magical Papyrus.

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the ambiguous star determinative) conforms to the planetary and other markers used to designate the planets, sun, moon and ascendant on the astrological board.46 Again, the wood determinative aids in resolving any ambiguity over meaning. It fortifies the interpretation of pinax as the astrological board on which those markers are placed, rather than a table of planetary positions. The second appearance of pinax employs the transliteration pynaks, also incorporating the wood determinative. Context and the shared determinative strongly imply the denotatum is again an ‘astrological board’. The petitioner writes his ‘matter’ on papyrus and places it on the board, which has already had ‘stars’ (i.e., planetary markers) placed on it. A third-person singular male pronoun, presumably Imhotep, ‘makes your stars appear’ for the favourable time. The spell does not specify exactly how the chart positions for the proper moment are communicated, but perhaps, as Thissen says, this is where the skill of a knowledgeable priest comes in. Alternately, the two different transliterations of pinax could result from an attempt to render different Greek cases but the phonological correspondence is poor. In the first appearance pinax is the direct object (‘you place a board’). The Demotic transliteration ends in the uni-literal signs for ‘g’ and ‘s’ (pyngs). The combination of the voiced velar stop and an unvoiced sibilant ending conforms with the Greek nominative, which ends in the ‘semi-voiced’ įȚʌȜȐ or ‘double letter’–ȟ, but the sibilant confounds a reading as an accusative (ʌ઀ȞĮțĮ). In second appearance, pinax (pynaks) includes an ayin which changes the number of mora (if not syllables) and the unvoiced velar stop (k) replaces the voiced velar stop (g) according to an Egyptian phonological alteration which persists into Arabic. Here pinax is the object of a preposition (‘on the board’) and would likely be rendered in the dative case in Greek, but the transliteration does not conform to the Greek dative (ʌ઀ȞĮțȚ).

Ȇ઀ȞĮȟ at MedƯnet MƗঌi The majority of the ostraca of MedƯnet MƗঌi archive remain unpublished and further instances of ʌ઀ȞĮȟ will undoubtedly be identified. However, among the published ostraca of MedƯnet MƗঌi, the root pinax may occur as many as nine times. In these published instances, pinax is written in Greek letters three times and transliterated six times. Roughly a third of the nearly 500 Greek ostraca from MedƯnet MƗঌi have been published and 46

See examples in Evans, ‘Astrologer’s Apparatus’.

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they contain data for preparing horoscopic charts (birthnotes) and astrological terms (e.g., ਕıIJȡȠȜંȖȠȢ, ਕıIJȡȠȜȠȖȚțંȢ, and ਕıIJȡȠȞȠȝȓĮ). Oddly, none of these contains the word ʌ઀ȞĮȟ. Among the bilingual ostraca, three examples preserve ʌ઀ȞĮȟ (or a derivative) in Greek letters. In each case, the example appears to be feminine. The first example, ODN 30, has been interpreted as ʌȚIJIJĮțȘ (from ʌȚIJIJਕțȚĮ, ‘writing tables’). The two taus might have been joined as ʌȚȞĮțȘ but the final eta cannot be resolved to a masculine plural.47 The plural Demotic context precludes external indications about the gender of the word and the form may be feminine plural (*ʌȚIJIJĮțĮ૙). The word ʌȚIJIJĮțȚȩȞ derives from ʌ઀ȞĮȟ and the variation might differentiate between denotata.48 The context of ODN 30 is clear: the scribe discusses numbers of Dam (papyri), Dam aA (large papyri) and these writing tablets. The second example of ʌ઀ȞĮȟ (or a derivative) in Greek letters, ODN 60, has been read as ʌȚȞĮȖȚȢ, which exchanges kappa for gamma. Gallo has identified the word as a feminine diminutive to explain the number of syllables and the preceding feminine article.49 The proximity of the word to ps Xr lA (inkwell) and qiqi ([lamp]-oil?) suggests some connection with writing for this feminine term.50 The third example of ʌ઀ȞĮȟ (or a derivative) rendered in Greek letters survives on OMM 423.51 In this case, the word has been read as ʌȣȞĮȖȚȢ, which exchanges not only kappa for gamma, but iota for upsilon.52 This writing fits the form of the feminine diminutive proposed by Gallo and the accompaniment by a feminine Demotic article accords with this interpretation. The presence of a masculine Demotic adjective (aA, great) disparages the skill of the scribe more than Gallo’s proposal. In this case, however, the word for a stylus (in) and the presence of ‘a great 47

Bresciani, ODN 30, 42-43. For the relation of ʌȚIJIJਕțȚĮ to ʌ઀ȞĮȟ, see Carl D. Buck and Walter Petersen, A Reverse Index of Greek Nouns and Adjectives (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1975), 46. For the relationship of ʌ઀ȞĮȟ, ʌIJȣțIJઁȢ and ʌȚIJIJਕțȚȩȞ noted in a scholia to the Iliad 7.169, see John-Anthony Cramer, Anecdota Graeca e codd. Manuscriptis Bibliothecae Regiae Parisiensis, Vol. 3 (Oxford: Ex Typographeo Academico, 1841), 218. 49 Paolo Gallo, Ostraca demotici e ieratici dall’achivio bilingue di Narmouthis, Quaderni di Medinet Madi 3 (Pisa: ETS, 1997), 134, n. 166. 50 For qiqi as oil, see Gallo, Ostraca demotici, 134-135, n. 167. 51 Angiolo Menchetti, ‘Un aperçu des textes astrologiques de Médinet Madi’, Actes du IXe congrès international des études démotiques (Bibliothèque d‘Étude 147) (Paris: IFAO, 2009), 231. 52 For the interchange of upsilon and iota, see Gignac, 267 and 273. 48

Various Renderings of ȆȓȞĮȟ in Greek and Demotic at MedƯnet MƗঌi 125

list’ (wpe aA) suggest the context of writing, but the connection of the list to Petosiris and an ȦȡĮıțȠʌȦȞ [sic] further suggest astrology.53 The fact that all the renderings of pinax in Greek letters occur in a Demotic composition but conform better to derivatives of pinax than the root itself potentially suggests an awareness that the variations might not survive transliteration. Among the instances of pinax as a transliterated loanword, at least three are feminine and two are masculine. The first feminine rendering, ODN 56, records pngs with no determinative and a feminine Demotic article. The word occurs in an inventory with lA (ink) but also with gl (vase) and tis.t (cloth), imagined to hold ink and clean pens, respectively.54 The second occurrence of pinax as a feminine loanword, ODN 59, presents pngs with a wood determinative and a feminine Demotic adjective, aA.t (great). The phrase ‘great pinax’ echoes OMM 423. Moreover, like ODN 30, the word occurs in context with Dam (papyri) and sX (writing).55 The third instance of pinax as a feminine loanword, ODN 64, was not identified as pinax by Gallo, who noted the similarity with ODN 59 but noted that the terminal graphemes formed a different determinative. When he published ODN 145, which contains a similar writing, Menchetti tentatively proposed that these graphemes indicate n pr mDA.t, ‘of the library’ and placed the pinax within the context of a library.56 In a review of Menchetti, Quack re-read the final graphemes of ODN 145 as si and combined them with the preceding word in reference

53

On the similar semantic fields of ‘list’ and ‘numeric table’, see Ross, ‘Tables of Pharaonic Egypt’, History of Numeric Tables (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming). On the astrological role of Petosiris, see D. G. Greenbaum and M. Ross, 'The Role of Egypt in the Development of the Horoscope', in Egypt in Transition: Social and Religious Development of Egypt in the First Millennium BCE, ed. Ladislav Bareš, Filip Coppens and Kveta Smolarikova (Prague: Czech Institute of Egyptology, 2010), 146-182, here 176-177. For the astrological fragments of Nechepso and Petosiris, see Stephan Heilen, 'Some metrical fragments from Nechepsos and Petosiris', in La poésie astrologique dans l'Antiquité, ed. Isabelle Boehm and Wolfgang Hübner (Paris: De Boccard, 2011), 23-93. 54 Gallo, Ostraca demotici, 133 n. 153 and 155. 55 Gallo, Ostraca demotici, 134 n. 164 reads “platter” in conformity with the Coptic ȕȚȞĮࢻ and the similarity of the determinative to the vase determinative, despite a change in gender. This grapheme also resembles the cloth determinative but may be the plant determinative, see line 6 of ODN 75 (=ODN 24). 56 Menchetti, ‘Un aperçu’, 85.

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to priests.57 However, Quack did not coordinate this interpretation with the similar writing in ODN 64. In the case of ODN 64, the reading by Quack might not be reapplied. Although a pinax may have some connection to a library, ODN 64 also refers to kaka (bread). Thus, ‘trencher or platter’ seems likely. Such a distinction is likely to have been noted by a change in determinative. One instance of pinax as a transliterated loanword, ODN 85, is plural and its gender cannot be determined.58 This orthography is the same as ODN 56, but the word contains the wood determinative. Unfortunately, in this case, the context is unclear. Finally, two renderings of the transliteration may be identified as masculine. Each of these writings has a bi-literal grapheme for the initial phoneme. In both of these cases, the first phoneme is written in a way similar to the masculine definite article. This orthography suggests a loan blend, intended to emphasize the gender of the word. The first example of pinax as a masculine loanword, ODN 82, transliterates the word as pAynks and ends with the star determinative.59 In this text, the object seems to be an object like the one proposed by Evans: a pinax is useful for showing the results of calculations, and can thereby conceal the methods of calculating, gAy-rx (‘ways of knowing’, calculations). The second instance of pinax as a masculine loanword, ODN 90, renders the word as pAyngs. This writing not only adds voicing to the velar stop, but varies the orthography of the nasal and sibilant consonants. More importantly, this writing includes both the wood and writing determinatives. However, for the present, the context is somewhat unclear. Aside from the portability of the object and its wooden construction, the content of the ostracon addresses a singular male reader who has some connection with writing: he writes ostraca (blDe) and receives papyri (Dam) from ਼ȡȦȞ. Despite the temptation to equate the ostraca with birth notes and the papyri with charts, nothing establishes an astrological context for this use of pinax.

57

Joachim Quack, review of ‘Ostraka demotici e bilingui da Narmuthis’, Enchoria 30 (2006/2007): 180. 58 Gallo, Ostraca demotici, 90. 59 Gallo, Ostraca demotici, 86-87.

Various Renderings of ȆȓȞĮȟ in Greek and Demotic at MedƯnet MƗঌi 127 Ostracon

Transliteration ʌȚIJIJĮțȘ (ʌȚȞĮțȘ?) ʌȚȞĮȖȚȢ

Gender

Context

Feminine

Writing

Feminine

Writing

OMM 423.1

ʌȣȞĮȖȚȢ

Feminine

ODN 56.4

pngs

Feminine

Writing Astrology Described as great Writing No determinative

ODN 59.1

pngs

Feminine

ODN 64.1

pngs

Feminine

ODN 85.1

pngs

Demotic Plural

ODN 82.4

pAynks

Masculine

ODN 90.r4

pAyngs

Masculine

ODN 30.4 ODN 60.2

Orthography

Writing Described as great Plant determinative? Library? Bread Monetary? Wood determinative Astrology Calculations Astral determinative Writing Wood determinative Writing determinative

Conclusions The authors of the MedƯnet MƗঌi archive formed a linguistic community: that is, despite occasional differences in accent and dialect, the authors could communicate with each other. According to the standard understanding of linguistic borrowing, these authors adopted pinax as a foreign word and a loan word because it was an exotic item not native to Egypt. However, this assumption does not agree with the evidence that almost all of the surviving boards have Egyptian connections, through decans, dodecaoros, or archaeological provenance. The Egyptian preference for Greek terms may be illuminated by similar processes of word creation through pseudo-Anglicism in modern languages. Indeed, the fact that ʌȡ઼ȖȝĮ may be translated into Demotic as aS-sHn only to spawn ȝȠȚȡȦȜȠȖȠȢ suggests a process of pseudo-Hellenicism, and several other astrological terms could be offered as further evidence of this process. If pinax had an indigenous Demotic equivalent, this word has not yet been identified at MedƯnet MƗঌi. Presumably, the Demotic equivalent would carry the wood determinative but the preference of Greek authors as early as Herodotus to use pinax to refer to a shape rather than composition may frustrate such a search. Likewise, through its adoption of the term and its

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connection with the astrological pinakes, Egypt may have contributed to the specialization of the Greek term. Within MedƯnet MƗঌi, two of the three instances (ODN 60 and OMM 423) of pinax as a foreign word may be morphologically explained by the preference for a feminine diminutive. The remaining example (ODN 30) may represent another derivative. These examples may have used Greek letters because subtle phonetic differentiation among derivatives could not be represented in Demotic transliteration. However through the similar qualification as ‘aA’ (great), the loan word represented in ODN 59 probably refers to the same denotatum as OMM 423. Considered collectively, these words establish a feminine diminutive of pinax within the context of writing and astrology. The fact that four of the other six published instances (ODN 30, 56, 82 and 90) of pinax occur in similar contexts invites consolidation of these seven instances under one denotatum, presumably the type of astrological board identified by Evans. Against this consolidation, two instances as a loan word (ODN 82 and 90) include masculine articles in conformity with the Greek ʌ઀ȞĮȟ . Possibly, the masculine gender of the Greek pinax directed the orthography of these examples. Because pinax includes several possible denotata in Greek, the foreign words, which preserve a feminine Greek diminutive, and loanwords, which preserve the normal masculine form, might differentiate between uses, such as the astrological board identified by Evans, a genre of astrological primer, tables of fixed stars or birth charts for astrological analysis. Because these denotata all involve astrology and writing, they may not be differentiable by determinative. In the case of linguistic borrowings from Greek into Demotic, orthography can vary—even in the same text, as the London-Leiden Magical Papyrus shows. Moreover, this variable orthography represents an attempt at a phonetic rendering, which is, in turn, subject to deformation because the similarity of Greek phonemes to Demotic words may be used to preserve, justify or create readings for foreign words, as evidenced by the general pattern of loanblends.60 Because orthography is variable and phonological standards can be permissive, context bears as strongly on the meanings for linguistic borrowings as phonology and orthography. Thus, 60

For a demonstration of potential loanblends between Greek and Egyptian, see P. Kingsley, ‘Poimandres: The Etymology of the Name and the Origins of the Hermetica’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, Vol. 56 (London, 1993): 1–24. repr., with additions and updates, in From Poimandres to Jacob Boehme, ed. R. van den Broek and C. van Heertum (Amsterdam, Netherlands: In de Pelikaan, 2000), 42-76.

Various Renderings of ȆȓȞĮȟ in Greek and Demotic at MedƯnet MƗঌi 129

context forms an essential element of identifying loanwords, particularly in differentiating among closely related denotata. The uses of pinax at MedƯnet MƗঌi exhibit variations in orthography (including the choice of script) and phonology. Although the societal context of these words cannot always be fully determined, the grammatical context (including gender and coordination) may help guide reading. Collectively, the instances of pinax at MedƯnet MƗঌi provide an example of how a foreign word may be adapted to a linguistic community amenable to its various meanings.

CHAPTER SEVEN CORRESPONDENCES OF THE PLANETS OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM TO MUSICAL PITCHES: FROM PTOLEMY TO A TWENTIETH CENTURY ADDITION TO KEPLER’S HARMONICES MUNDI JOHANN F. W. HASLER1

Abstract Throughout history, astrology has influenced many aspects of Western culture, including music. Indeed, through the doctrine of correspondences of the Renaissance and its forerunner in Antiquity, the neo-Platonic via positiva of analogical and symbolic thinking, music and astrology have been linked since ancient Greek times by means of sets of tables of correspondences and equivalences based on different logics of analogy, comparison and similarity. These range from neo-Pythagorean geometry and ratio theory to Theosophical eschatology, passing through scientificist extrapolations of Kepler’s theories and even statistical approaches to the quantification of appearances of musical keys in canonical classical music repertoires related to the planets or constellations.

This essay wishes to show several historical instances of these musical correspondences for the seven ancient planets (and in the most modern example discussed—dating from 1942—the 3 outer planets as well), and illustrate the logic of attribution that underlies each one of them. The cases discussed range from Ptolemy (90-168 AD) to a posthumous book by the French author Francis Warrwain (1867-1940). By selecting such a wide time range, I wish to exemplify the changing logics of attribution and modes of translation and analogical thinking of each of their periods and epistemologies, and show also how some core ideas and figures of 1

Research group "Artes y Modelos de Pensamiento", Faculty of Arts, Universidad de Antioquia UdeA, Calle 70 No. 52-21, Medellín, Colombia.

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authority are kept, referred to and transmitted—even misread—throughout nineteen centuries of diffusion and reconfiguration of theories of musical attributions of astrology, as well as cosmological models. The transmission of these ideas in the intellectual history of the West is not the story of a linear conveyance of the same underlying understanding (a direct transmission through what has been referred to almost mythically as the “Philosophia perennis” or “The Golden Thread”), but rather the history of references, interpretations and ruptures of one epoch regarding the proposals of previous ones on the same issue.2 This essay thus illustrates the transmission of a single aspect of astrology (its musical possibilities) within the same culture (the scholarly and esoteric West) throughout a long period of time (almost two millennia).3

1. Musical Correspondences of the Planets to Pitches and Pitch Class The Ancient Greeks, widely reputed as the forerunners of Western civilization, already knew and had described the movements of the visible planets, or had received and adapted such knowledge from more ancient cultures which had done the observations before them, especially in Central and Western Asia.4 What seems to be a totally new, inherently Greek contribution to astrological correspondences is the notion that the planets, while moving, generate sounds. In effect, of the three main astrological units that have generated proposals of musical attributions or equivalences throughout history (the planets, the signs of the zodiac and angular aspects between the planets) it is precisely the attribution of pitches (or at least pitch classes5) to the planets which has generated the most models, even up to 2

See for example Joscelyn Godwin, The Golden Thread: The Ageless Wisdom of the Western Mystery Traditions (Wheaton, IL: Quest Books, 2007). 3 ‘Scholarly’ in the sense that this specific area of astrological correspondences has roused little interest outside academic, theological and scholarly circles. 4 The cosmological knowledge of the Babylonians, Assyrians, Persians and Egyptians stands out in this respect; see Chapters 3 to 8 of Nicholas Campion’s A History of Western Astrology: Volume 1, the Ancient World (London: Continuum, 2008). 5 While the term ‘pitch’ may refer very specifically to a precise and unique note in the gamut (for example middle C, and only that C, not any octave transposition of it), ‘pitch class’ refers in a more general way to all Cs, or Ds, or pitches with the same name, but which may occur in different octaves. This distinction is important in the present discussion, since some musical attributions (especially planetary

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 133

the seventeenth century, in the heyday of the clashes between the older spiritualist/Hermetic epistemologies and the emerging materialistic thought of the nascent scientific revolution.6 For this reason, I will focus this essay on the attributions of pitches to planets. One of the earliest written testimonies of this inherently Greek idea is famously described at the end of the 10th book of Plato’s Republic, in the section known as The Myth of Er, where the soul of the deceased Pamphylian soldier Er travels in the realms of the unborn and disembodied souls (an ‘astral realm’, modern occultists would call it), and whilst passing the planets on his journey up the Solar System, notices that […] on each of its [orbital] circles there was seated a siren on the upper side, carried round [with the planets] and uttering a single sound on one pitch. But the whole of them, being eight, compose a single harmony.7

In a different book dealing with another perfect utopian Republic, written three hundred years after Plato’s book of the same title by the famous Roman statesman and author Marcus Tullius Cicero (104-43 BC), the author narrates a dream in which he meets his grandfather by adoption, Scipio Africanus Major (236-184? BC), who shows him, among other things, the operation of celestial mechanics. Cicero is astounded by the sound of the planetary spheres: I stood dumbfounded at these sights, and when I recovered my senses I enquired: «What is this great and pleasing sound that fills my ears?» «That», replied my grandfather, «is a concord of tones separated by unequal but nevertheless carefully proportioned intervals, caused by the rapid motion of the spheres themselves. The high and low tones blended together produce different harmonies. Of course such swift motions could not be accomplished in silence and, as nature requires, the spheres at one

attributions) specify precise pitches, while others (especially zodiac and house attributions) are content with indicating the more general pitch classes. 6 A wonderfully subtle discussion of this change of mentality, focused precisely on music, can be found in Gary Tomlinson, Music in Renaissance Magic: toward a historiography of others (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993). For a shorter but not less well-written account, see Daniel K. Chua, ‘Vincenzo Galilei, Modernity and the Division of Nature’, in Music Theory and Natural Order from the Renaissance to the Early Twentieth Century, ed. Suzannah Clark and Alexander Rehding (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 17-29. 7 Plato, Republic, Book 10, 617b, in Joscelyn Godwin, ed., Music, Mysticism and Magic: A Sourcebook (New York: Arkana - Penguin, 1986), 6; (my brackets, added to the original quote for clarification).

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Chapter Seven extreme produce the low tones and at the other extreme the high tones. […] The ears of mortals are filled with this sound, but they are unable to hear it»8

While both Er’s and Cicero’s accounts could be defined as esoteric or at least mystical experiences, with visions a product of lucid dreams or neardeath experiences involving disembodied souls, sirens and other spiritual beings, later Greek philosophers and scientists would devise ‘physical’ explanations for such supposed sounds of the planets, extrapolating geometry, mathematics and very especially Pythagorean acoustical discoveries to celestial mechanics. These authors concluded that just as spinning and moving objects on Earth produce sound, so should the movement of the planets generate some sort of vibration—perhaps even audible vibrations or musical sounds—while moving in the cosmic ether. Yet we find no clear attributions of which pitches correspond specifically to which planets in either Plato, Cicero or the fragments written by the followers of Pythagorean doctrines (it must be remembered that Pythagoras himself did not leave any written work): all of these sources merely state the notion that the planets (or their spheres, or the spirits that live within them) produce sounds while moving, but do not describe which specific sounds those might be. Based on the written material that has reached us, we may plainly state that the history of attributing specific pitches to specific planets starts with the Greco-Egyptian astronomer Claudius Ptolemaeus (‘Ptolemy’ in English, 90-168 AD)—though the idea that the celestial objects produce sounds is, as we have seen, several centuries older. Whether inspired by the scientific or the mystical models, Greek authors starting from Ptolemy began assigning the pitches of their music— grosso modo comparable to our modern day heptatonic or diatonic scale— to the five visible planets and the two luminaries (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn).

2. The Planetary Spheres as a the Greater System of Greek Music Theory Perhaps the most straightforward of these modes of attribution consists in taking the geocentric model of the Solar System and considering each 8

Quintus Tullius Cicero, De Republica, Book 6, Ch. V, 1-3, in Music, Mysticism and Magic: A Sourcebook, ed. Joscelyn Godwin (New York: Arkana - Penguin, 1986), 10-11.

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 135

planetary sphere or orbit as equivalent to one of the seven fixed points of the theoretical ‘Greater System’ of Greek music theory (shown below in Fig. 1). The attributions of planets to this system do not constitute proper ‘planetary scales’, but a framework within music can occur, in the words of Joscelyn Godwin, “the bare bones of music, to be clothed in multifarious ways”.9 I wish to emphasize that the ancient Greek ‘Greater System’ is not a musical scale in the modern sense, but a sort of theoretical framework of fixed intervals, within which the possible pitches between these intervals (not shown in the figure) are altered (sharpened or flattened) depending on the mode to be used in each piece and the genera (diatonic, chromatic or enharmonic) of the tetrachords used by each scale. When observing the ‘Greater System’, one notices that, in effect, it is a series of intervals, but it is as little a scale as one would consider an octave or a fifth today, or a tonal centre, or a key.10 The rationale behind these types of planet-to-pitch attributions is that “the heavens should correspond not to a single octave-species but to the entire range of notes used in music”.11 The range of notes used in music varies, of course, with the instruments and the theory known or envisaged at certain points of history and in different cultures and geographical locations, and this accounts for the differences in some of the attributions, as we shall see in due course. But it was the Greek ‘Greater System’ which inspired most of the authors of these models of planet-to-pitch attribution. In his book The Harmony of the Spheres: A Sourcebook of the Pythagorean Tradition in Music, Professor Joscelyn Godwin labels these systems as ‘Type C’, precisely because they are the third type he reviews and catalogues in his book. But since I prefer in my own exposition to start with this model, and in order not to impose the order of my exposition in this essay as an ordering reference for future work, I will refrain from using Godwin’s alphabetical classification system (types A, B and C) or to use an alternative numerical one, and will simply call the systems of attribution which use this rationale ‘Orbits=Greater System’.

9

Joscelyn Godwin, Harmonies of Heaven and Earth: The Spiritual Dimensions of Music from Antiquity to the Avant-Garde (Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions, 1987, repr. 1995), 128. 10 A scale may be deduced from a key (and this is why music teachers request ‘play the scale of such-and-such key’), but the key itself is not a scale. 11 Godwin, Harmonies of Heaven and Earth, 128.

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Fig. 1: The ‘G Greater System’ of Greek musiical theory.

It would seeem that the exxercise of assiigning the sevven planets to the fixed pitches of thhe Greater Syystem is a sim mple matter off transferring the fixed pitches to thhe planetary orbits, from the t closest too the farthest from the Earth, thus:

Fig. 2: Geocentric model of the Solar Syystem.12

12

Image takeen from http://w www.thebigview.com/spacetim me/ptolemy.giff (accessed 11 June 2012).

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 137

Fig. 3: Straightforward assignment of the Greater System to the planets, from closest to farthest (geocentric model as shown above).

And indeed, this is how we find it in the majority of the theoretical proposals of ancient and some medieval theorists (see Tables 1a and 1b below). But several nuances arise to this straightforward proposal that account for the variation in planetary assignments that subscribe to this general rationale of orbits=Greater System. Firstly, even though Ptolemy’s ordering of the planets became standard during the first centuries of the Common Era, it was not the only one available, and competing models assigning different orbital positions to the planets also existed. Needless to say, this re-arrangement of the planets in the orbits around the Earth radically changes the assignment of the planets to the pitches of the Greater System, as would be expected. Additionally, this system of assignment is, in a sense, a visual model: we see the spheres ascending into the stars in the model of circular orbits, just as we hear the pitches ascending in the musical gamut. But in terms of earthly physics, objects that move faster generate higher pitches than those which move more slowly. Why then, reasoned several theorists, should the slowest planets have the highest pitches? This sensible objection is the reason we see some instances of the application of the model in reverse, with Saturn having the lowest pitch and Moon the highest (See Anatolius’ proposal in Table 1b, below). Considering this, Anatolius and the IkhwƗn al-SafƗ’ (a tenth-century secret mystical school from Basra, in modern day Iraq) interpreted Ptolemy’s mathematical-astronomical calculations as string lengths, and this is why we see that in their systems the tones descend rather than ascend through the Greater System: the longer a string, the lower it will sound, so the farther away the planetary sphere, the lower the sound of that corresponding planet. An additional innovation worthy of note can be observed in the proposal of the IkhwƗn al-SafƗ’: in their rendering, they naturally introduce non-Western intervals in their attributions, adapting the Greek Greater System to their own musical scales (See Tables 1a and 1b for a summarized tabulation of all of these assignments of planet-to-pitch correspondences). Another thing we notice when comparing the different proposals based on the orbits=Greater System model is that in some proposals the Earth (or

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some of the four ancient elements of the Aristotelian tradition) and the fixed stars are assigned pitches as well, again depending on the cosmological models favoured by the theorists, as there was not a universal consensus on whether either the Earth or the eighth sphere (the sphere of the stars) were immobile or if on the contrary they were subject to some sort of motion.

Table 1a: Several historical instances of assignment of pitches to the planets according to the Orbits=Greater System model (Godwin’s ‘Type C’ model).13

13

The attributions by Plutarch shown here have been interpreted by James Haar in pages 144-146 of his doctoral thesis for Harvard University, and are derived from Plutarch’s ‘Concerning the Procreation of the Soul as Discoursed in Timaeus’, found in his Morals; James Haar, ‘Musica Mundana: Variations on a Pythagorean Theme’ (Ph.D diss., Harvard University, 1960). The first of Ptolemy’s attributions comes from book III of his Harmonics, section 16. The second attribution can be found in Heiberg’s edition of his Opera Omnia: Johan Ludvig Heiberg et al., eds., Claudii Ptolemaei Opera quae exstant omnia, Bibliotheca scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana (Lipsiae [Leipzig]: in aedibus B.G. Teubneri, 18981919). Carl von Jan’s interpretation of the Canobic inscription can be found in his article ‘Die Harmonie der Sphären’, Philologus 6 (1894): 13-37.

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 139

Table 1b: Continuation of historical instances of the “orbits=greater system” model (Godwin’s “Type C” model).14

3. The Distances between the Orbits as Intervals in Pythagorean String Theory A second way of looking at the Solar System in order to derive pitches from each of its celestial objects is to consider the distances between the orbits as ratios comparable to those discussed in Pythagorean acoustical theory, specifically to the relationship between the distances separating the nodes of a string and the main intervals which constitute the major scale. Godwin tells us that “The idea of Type A scales” (as he calls them)15 in general is attributed to the School of Pythagoras: “it is that the planetary spheres are placed at intervals comparable to those stoppings of a string that would produce a scale”.16 This is a prime example of music as a scientific mathematical tool (as considered by the Pythagoreans, mathematics was the basis of sound and music itself was sound). Pythagoras reckoned the distance from the Earth to the Moon and represented it with a whole tone. “The rest of the scale” Godwin continues,

14

Anatolius’ attributions from his Theologumena arithmetika (Leipzig: G. Ast, 1817). The attributions of the IkhwƗn al-SafƗ’ from The Epistle on Music of the IkhwƗn al-SafƗ’, trans. Amnon Shiloah (Tel-Aviv University, 1978). 15 In his nomenclature, which I here prefer to avoid for the reasons explained above. 16 Godwin, The Harmony of the Spheres, 113.

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“with its tones, semitones, etc., then shows the relative distances of the other spheres from one another”.17 This relationship was discovered by Pythagoras through experimentation with the monochord, not so much a musical but rather a scientific instrument which allows the comparison of string lengths with the tones they produce, and, crucially, permits the measurement of these string lengths, thus enabling a precise quantitative assessment of their relationships.18 Through the monochord Pythagoras discovered that stopping a string at half of its length produced the octave of the original string, when stopping it at one third of its length the fifth would be produced, and so forth: successive divisions of the string in whole numbers produced what we now understand as the harmonic series (see below, Figs. 4 and 5).

Fig. 4: Schematic view of a monochord.

The discovery of the relationship between sound and number (in this case string lengths and proportions between them) through the use of the monochord was crucial in the development of the Pythagorean idea of the unity between arithmetic, geometry, music and astronomy, and helped configure the future quadrivium composed precisely of these four disciplines of knowledge based on number and proportion.19 17

Godwin, The Harmony of the Spheres, 113. On the monochord see David Fideler, ‘The Monochord: The Mathematics of Harmonic Mediation’ in The Pythagorean Sourcebook and Library: An Anthology of Ancient Writings Which Relate to Pythagoras and Pythagorean Philosophy, ed. David Fideler (Grand Rapids, MI: Phanes Press, 1988), 24-28; and for a detailed description of its operation and the mathematical insights that can be obtained with its use, Heiner Ruland, Expanding Tonal Awareness: A Musical Exploration of the Evolution of Consciousness Guided by the Monochord (London: Rudolf Steiner Press, 1992). 19 David Fideler, ‘Appendix III: The Formation and Ratios of the Pythagorean Scale’, in D. Fideler, ed., The Pythagorean Sourcebook and Library, 327-328. 18

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 141

Fig. 5: Relationships between frequencies, ratios of string segments and musical intervals.

For Pythagoras and his followers, it was obvious that the cosmos should be designed according to these mathematical principles which also expressed themselves musically. Thus, they concluded, the distances between the planets should be organized as if they were string lengths on a monochord (see Fig. 6, below).

Fig. 6: The orbits of the planets organized as nodal points on a monochord string. Notice the interval analysis to the left.

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In this modeel of attributioon therefore, it i is the distannces between the orbits of planets, and not theeir position in n the cosmoological modeel, which determine thhe sounds of the t scale each h planet will ccorrespond to, just as if the orbits w would touch a node in a theoretical sttring and pro oduce the correspondinng sound. Tabble 2 shows how h several thheorists subsccribing to this attributiion model prooposed as the pitches for e ach planet off the solar system, from m the first to thhe seventeenth h centuries.

Table 2: Several historicaal instances of assignment o f pitches to th he planets according to tthe Orbital distaances=Pitches model m (Godwinn’s ‘Type A’ mo odel).20 20

Pliny’s atttributions from m his Natural History, H Book II in the Loeb b Classical Library edition by Harvardd University Press P (1979), ppages 19-20; Martianus’ M attributions fr from Martianus Capella, ‘The Marriage of M Mercury with Ph hilosophy’ in Martianus Capella and the t Seven Liberal Arts, Vol. 2 (New York: Columbia University Prress, 1977); Ceensorinus’ attrib butions from C Censorinus, De die natali, Otto Jahn, ed. (Berlin: G. Reimer, 1847); Theon’s froom Theon of Smyrna, S J. Dupuis, ed., Mathematics Useful U for Undeerstanding Plaato, Book III, section s 15, translated by Robert and Deeborah Lawlor (San ( Diego, Wiizard’s Bookshelf, 1979); Achilles Tatioos’ from his coommentary on Aratus’ A Phaenoomena, availablle in Denis

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 143

4. The Orbital Speeds of the Planets as Indicator of their Vibration/Pitches Another of the influential models of attributions of pitches to the planets is based on the simple physical observation that objects spinning faster produce higher pitches than those which spin more slowly. At the astronomical scale, even if we can not hear the sound of the planets spinning around the Sun (or the Earth) due to their extremely slow movement, the same principle still holds true, and so throughout history a model of pitch assignment based on the observed speeds of the planets developed in parallel with the other two models, based on their orbital distance or on the Greater System of Greek music theory. This ‘orbital speeds=pitches’ is what Godwin refers to as “type B planetary scales”.21 In Table 3 below we can see a few of the pitch attributions that theoreticians working with this model have proposed throughout history. Here we also notice important variations: as can be observed, in some cases the closest to the Earth a planet is, the higher its pitch, while in the opinion of other theorists the situation is reverse, and the farthest planets produce the highest pitches. One of the reasons for these variations has to do with the sphere of the stars, considered in some cosmological systems as fixed and unmovable, while in other models it moved just as the other spheres do, often faster than the rest of them. As in previous pitch attribution rationales, changing the underlying cosmological model radically changes the musical results as well.

Peteau’s Uranologion, sive, Systema variorum authorum qui de sphaera ac sideribus eorumque motibus graecè commentati sunt. Sunt autem horum libri: Gemini, Achillis Tatii Isagoge ad Arati Phaenomena; Hipparchi Libri tres ad Aratum; Ptolemaei De apparentiis; Theodori Gazae De mensibus; Maximi, Isaaci Argyri ...S. Andreae Cretensis Computi (Paris: Sebastiani Cramoisy, 1630), 136, as reported by Joscelyn Godwin in his The Harmony of the Spheres, 411. Fludd’s attributions are derived from his Utriusque Cosmi Maioris Scilicet et Minoris Metaphysica, Physica atque Technica Historia (Oppenheim 1617-21), Vol. 1, Book 3 (‘De Musica Mundana’), Ch. 3; as well as from Anatomiae amphiteatrum (Frankfurt: de Bry, 1623), 314f. 21 Godwin, Harmonies of Heaven and Earth, 118-120.

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Table 3: Several historical instances of assignment of pitches to the planets according to the “speeds=pitches” model (Godwin’s “Type B planetary scales”).22 22

Nichomachus’s attributions from his Enchiridion harmonices, translated by Flora Levin as The Manual of Harmonics of Nicomachus the Pythagorean (Grand Rapids, MI: Phanes Press, 1994); Bragard’s interpretation of Nichomachus from Roger Bragard, ‘L’harmonie Des Sphères Selon Boèce’, Speculum 4 (1929): 20613; Ramis de Pareja’s attributions from his Musica practica, ed. Johannes Wolf, (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1968); Boethius’ from his De institutione musica translated by Calvin M. Bower as The Principles of Music (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989); Al-KindƯ’s attributions from Amnon Shiloah, ‘Un Ancien Tratié Sur Le ‘Njd d’Abnj Ynjsuf Al-KindƯ; traduction et commentaire’, in Israel Oriental Studies 4 (1974): 179-205; Abraham Bartolus’ attributions from his

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 145

5. The proportional model of Giorgio Anselmi (fifteenth century) As musical style and technique change through history, so do these planetto-pitch attributions: it is notable that most of the correspondence systems presented in Tables 1a to 3 give single pitches as sound equivalences to the planets, since they are mostly based on the authority of ancient Greek authors, copied, confirmed or slightly corrected by their medieval adherents. It is widely accepted—from the study of tuning systems among other sources of information—that ancient Greek music was monodic, so the attribution of single pitches to individual planets is to be expected.23 But matters change with the advent of polyphony in the Middle Ages: the Parmesan polymath Giorgio Anselmi (before 1385 to 1440~43, not to be confused with the Veronese painter of the same name who lived in the eighteenth century) wrote in his treatise De Musica, which appeared in 1434: A single sphere does not always produce the same harmony, but manifold phthongoi, limmata, dieses and commata [the smaller intervals in Greek musical theory]; so that the Blessed Spirits24 must be imagined not only with the sound of their own spheres, but also with those situated nearby: now leading song, now following, now pursuing, now accompanying, and playing in wonderful harmony in an ever more graceful game.25

Musica mathematica: das ist, das Fundament der allerlieblichsten Kunst der Musicae, wie nemlich dieselbe in der Natur stecke, und ihre gewisse Proportiones (Leipzig: Johann Meuschken, 1614). 23 John G. Landels, ‘Scales, intervals and tuning’, in Music in Ancient Greece & Rome (Abingdon, OX: Routledge, 1999), 86-109; J. Javier Goldáranz Gaínza, Afinación y temperamento en la música occidental (Madrid: Alianza, 1992); Mark Lindley, ‘Pythagorean intonation’, in L. Macy, ed., Grove Music Online, 2004, at http://www.grovemusic.com (accessed 10 November 2004); Rudolf Rash, ‘Tuning and Temperament’ in T. Christensen, ed., The Cambridge History of Western Music Theory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 193-222. 24 On the changing conception of these “Blessed Spirits” mentioned by Anselmi (the souls of the spheres), see Harry A. Wolfson, ‘The Problem of the Souls of the Spheres from the Byzantine Commentaries on Aristotle Through the Arabs and St. Thomas to Kepler’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 16 (1962): 65-93. 25 Georgii Anselmi Parmensis, De musica. Dieta prima de celesti harmonia. Dieta secunda de instrumentali harmonia. Dieta tertia de cantabili harmonia, reprinted with an introduction and commentary by Giuseppe Massera (Florence: L.S. Olschki, 1961); quoted from Joscelyn Godwin, The Harmony of the Spheres: A Sourcebook of the Pythagorean Tradition in Music, 149.

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It is notable from this quote how Anselmi metaphorically equates the movements of the planetary spheres to a polyphonic composition, with the various voices coming and going from the background to the main focus of auditory attention in the foreground, going as far as suggesting imitative counterpoint. But not only had musical style changed in the intervening centuries: by Anselmi’s time cosmological theory had ceased to be ‘neatly’ and geometrically simple as in ancient Greece, and a long and competing series of theories of complex orbits within orbits and circles within circles—the epicycles—had been developed in order to account for the eccentricities in the observed motions of the planets, based on the work of Aristotle, and especially Ptolemy.26 The assignment of pitches to the planets needed to therefore acknowledge the variability of the planetary positions, sometimes taking the extreme points (as in Kepler’s aphelion and perihelion, to be discussed later), and sometimes averaging them out, as a median of their approximate loci. Anselmi takes the results of empirical observations of the time of rotation of the planets, just as the systems of speeds=pitches (Godwin’s type B) do, but instead of fitting in the data with a pre-established cosmology, he calculates the proportions of the rotations of the planets, and through the Pythagorean laws of the harmonic ratio he calculates the corresponding musical interval.27 Godwin gives us the example of the ratio between the orbital time of Saturn (30 years) and Jupiter (12 years), expressed mathematically as a 5:2 proportion.28 In Pythagorean harmonic ratio theory, this ratio corresponds musically to an octave plus a fifth.29 In 26

Carlos Dorce Polo, Ptolomeo, el astrónomo de los círculos (Madrid: Nivola Ediciones, 2006). 27 David Fideler, ‘Appendix III: The Formation and Ratios of the Pythagorean Scale’, in Fideler, The Pythagorean Sourcebook and Library, 327-328. 28 Godwin, Harmonies of Heaven and Earth, 131. 29 The mathematical proportions of the intervals in the series of overtones in a natural (non-tempered) tuning can be expressed as follows, for the first 11 overtones: Octave 2:1

Perfect fifth 3:2

Perfect fourth 4:3

Major third 5:4

Minor third 6:5

Major second 9:8 (C-D) 10:9 (D-E)

Minor second 16:15

Other proportions apply in different tuning systems. For details see the very comprehensive book by Gareth Loy, Musimathics: The Mathematical Foundations of Music (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2006), 39-63. For transformations of higher numbers and intervals to the basic intervals of the scale (as in Anselmi’s

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 147

a similar way, Anselmi calculates all the intervals between Saturn (the lowest pitch) and the Moon (the highest pitch). His proposal is shown in Table 4. Interval between planets, according to Pythagorean ratio theory

Planets Moon ]

3 octaves

]

an octave plus a fifth

]

2 octaves

]

an octave plus a fifth

Mercury, Venus, Sun (all at the same level due to theories of the epicycles) Mars Jupiter Saturn

Table 4: Anselmi’s harmonic proportion between the planets.

Notice that the intervals produce only octaves and fifths, and thus we indeed have a ‘consonant’ concord of planetary tones, and that Anselmi does not assign specific pitches to the planets, but rather describes their relationships to one another, just as we could nowadays describe a chord through its intervallic relationships (through figured bass, for example), without establishing or naming specific pitches. Godwin additionally points out the fact that “one’s finding may break the bounds of current musical practice, as Anselmi’s 8-octave range did in an era when all music lay within a 3-octave limit”.30 To illustrate this point further, Godwin provides us with possible pitches for Anselmi’s zodiacal revolutions (see Fig. 7, below).

case) see Joscelyn Godwin ‘Speculative Music: The Numbers Behind the Notes’, in J. Paynter, T. Howell, R. Orton and P. Seymour, eds., Companion to Contemporary Musical Thought (London: Routledge, 1992), 256-271. 30 Godwin, Harmonies of Heaven and Earth, 131.

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or Anselmi’s zoodiacal revolutio ons.31 Fig. 7: ppitches proposedd by Godwin fo

6. C Combinatioon of orbita al speeds an nd distancees 6.1 Joohn Scotus Eriugena’s E bi-focal b solarr system (9thh c.) Even thoughh it was Kepler who would d masterfully combine the two t main models—pittches related to orbital sp peeds and to orbital distaances—of harmony off the spheres in i the seventeenth century (this will be discussed d in the next ssection, 6.2), eight centuriees before him m the Irish neo o-platonic scholar Johnn Scotus Eriuggena (815-877 7) conceived tthat the planets did not produce singgle, stable pitcches as is pressupposed by bboth the distan nce=pitch and the speeed=pitch moodels, but rath her that the ddistances betw ween the heavenly boodies, varyingg as they did through theirr orbital moveements at different speeds, would produce diffeerent intervalls, and so eacch planet would produuce a wider raange of pitchees, varying fro rom its closestt position to another heavenly body to the positio on farthest awaay:32 These [pllanetary] tones are varied acco ording to the ddiversity of orbiits and circles.33

31

The pitch eequivalences haave been extracted from Godw win’s The Harm mony of the Spheres, 444,, note 11. 32 His writinggs on matters off music of the spheres s can be ffound in his Periphyseon, it. 122, col. 722, and in his manuscript Commentaryy on Martianu us Capella (Bodleian Libbrary, Oxford Ms. M Auct. T.II..19, fols. 9-10’ ). For further reading r on another of Eriiugena’s musical writings, seee Percy Jones, T The Glosses De Musica of John Scottus Eriugena in thhe Ms. Lat. 129 960 of the Bibliiothèque Nation nale, Paris (Rome: 1957)). 33 Commentary ry on Martianuss Capella (Bodlleian Library, O Oxford Ms. Aucct. T.II.19, fol. 13’), trannslated by Joscelyn Godwin and included in page 107 of o his The Harmony of tthe Spheres: a Sourcebook S of the t Pythagoreann Tradition in Music. M

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After explainning the geom metry and math hematics of booth celestial mechanics m and Pythagoorean acousticcs (albeit with h some errorss of understanding, as Godwin poinnts out), Eriuggena concludees:34 As you ssee, the soundss do not alway ys relate by thee same intervals, but accordingg to the altitudde of their orbiits. No wonderr, then, that th he Sun sounds ann octave with Saturn when itt is running at the greatest diistance from it: bbut when it begins to approach h it, it will sounnd a fifth and when w it gets closeer, a fourth. Coonsidered in thiis manner, I thiink it will not disturb d you whenn we say that Mars M is distant from the Sun ssometimes by a tone, sometimees by a semitonne. For what prevails p in stinggs according to o their length annd shortness, exxtension and rem mission, is alsoo the case with organ pipes, in w which it is the longitudinal l meeasure that causses the distancee of the pitches. IIt is the same with w the planetts, according too the altitude of o their orbits andd their distance or nearness to the t Sun; and whhat we say of th he Sun should also be understood of all the otther planets rellative to one an nother, For they are not always separated, nor do they approaach each other by the same inteervals, on accouunt of the condittion of their orbbits.35

Graphically,, we could exxpress it as follows f (thouugh Eriugena does not include any illustrations of o this in his manuscript): m

heir orbital Fig. 8: Diffeerent distances between planeetary orbits deepending on th speeds.

34

Commentaary on Martianus Capella in Godwin, The H Harmony of thee Spheres, 437, note 6. 35 Commentaary on Martianus Capella in Godwin, The H Harmony of thee Spheres, 106.

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In the illustration above (Fig. 8), the grey and the black planets change position at different speeds, and therefore the distances between them (and thus the musical intervals resulting from these distances) change depending on the moment of observation. Later in his manuscript Eriugena further insists that it should be clearly understood that this does not mean that the orbits themselves change (or are non-circular, as will be the case in Kepler’s elliptical-orbit proposal, to be discussed later), but rather that it all depends on the extension (or distance) between different celestial bodies at certain moments of observation: .

It is truly no wonder that the pitches of the stars are changed according to the distances of their orbits, since even their colors change for the same reason; and we see that a string placed in a shorter or longer space, or stretched and loosened, does not give the same pitch even though it is the same string. For a ‘tone’ receives its name from extension: it is Greek, and derived from the verb teino, i.e., stretch.36

This insistence on Eriugena’s part is better understood if we consider that he proposed a totally different cosmology, a semi-heliocentric one, in which all of the ancient planets, except for the Moon, Saturn and the Earth, revolve around the Sun, while the Sun itself revolves around the Earth, which stands, stationary, at the centre of the whole system (see Fig. 9). Considering that in this cosmological model the solar system is not arranged in concentric circles around a single axis, the differences in positions between the different celestial bodies would render many more variations in distances between the various orbits, and this might account for Eriugena’s insistence on this point. It would also produce a much greater polyphonic variety than previous models, since the distances between the celestial bodies vary widely, being as they are in a sort of clockwork arrangement of wheels within wheels, and each smaller wheel rotating at different speeds.

36 Commentary on Martianus Capella, in Godwin, The Harmony of the Spheres 107.

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F Fig. 9: Eriugenaa’s bifocal, semii-heliocentric soolar system.37

To my know wledge Eriugena is the first author in th the West to im mply that both orbitaal speeds and a distancess could be understood as one complementtary system raather than two o mutually excclusive ones, but b it was left to Kepleer to give com mplete and dettailed astronom mical, geomettrical and harmonical explanationss and justifi fications for such a meerging of systems.38

6.2 Kep pler’s astron nomical modernization n of the tradiition of the t music off the spheress Almost eighht centuries after a Eriugenaa and two afteer Anselmi, th he famed astronomer Johannes Keppler (1571-1630) would takke their insigh hts a step further, cryystallizing botth Anselmi’s comment thhat the planeets would change theiir notes alm most contrapu untally, “now w leading so ong, now following, nnow pursuingg, now accom mpanying, andd playing in wonderful w harmony in an ever moree graceful gam me”, and Eriuugena’s realizaation that the changinng distances between b the planets p as th ey pursue their orbits 37

To preventt clutter in the diagram, d only the t planetary gllyphs have been n used. As a reminder thhey stand for the t following planets, p from thhe centre to th he diagram outwards: ̓=Earth, d=M Moon, ͅ=Jupiter, ̈́=Mars, Ƃ=Venus, ́= =Mercury, Saturn and ***= = fixed stars. b=Sun, ͆=S 38 In the old ssense of the woord, derived fro om the science oof harmonics, rather r than our modern aadjective ‘harm monious’, deriv ved from the teechnical rules of o musical harmony.

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would generate a gamut from the closest point of their orbit to the point farthest away from another celestial object.39 Kepler proposed, as can be read in the subtitle of the seventh chapter of book V of his Harmonices Mundi (1619),40 “that there can be counterpoint, or universal harmonies, between all the planets, and that they can be different, that is to say one from another”.41 In chapter 8 he deepens the analogy to vocal music, entitling that section of this book “That in the planets the natures of the four voices—treble, alto, tenor and bass—have been expressed”.42 In book V of this same book, Kepler assigns each planet not only a single pitch, and neither solely a theoretical interval, but combines both (what we have here reviewed as the speeds=pitches or distance=pitches systems, Godwin’s type A and B systems) to express the angular velocities of the planets at perihelion and aphelion (that is, their point closest and furthest from the Sun)—following his recently calculated model of orbits as elliptical rather than circular—as the lowest and highest pitches in an intervallic range that expresses the differences between the two orbital points and their speeds. Moreover, Kepler’s model is a completely heliocentric one (not partially so, like Eriugena’s), and as a fervent adherent to the Copernican model he was the first theoretician of speculative music to calculate the music of the spheres from the vantage point of the Sun, and not from the Earth (in the sense that the intervals, speeds, distances, etc., are all calculated from the Sun as one of the points of the elliptical orbits of the planets, the Earth being just another of the objects orbiting the Sun). This is why the Earth also has a range of pitches for its orbit in Kepler’s system. Whereas Eriugena and Anselmi both used the model of circular orbits and therefore only discuss the proportion between the orbits of two adjacent planets, Kepler, using the elliptical orbit model proposes to additionally also calculate the pitch of a planet by comparing its own two orbital points, the farthest and the closest from one of the foci of its elliptical orbit (where, due to gravitational pull, the planet moves fastest and slowest during its orbital course). Since both orbital speed and distance of the planets to the Sun vary depending on their position in said orbit, a variation in one necessarily results in a variation in the other (see Fig. 10), and thus, for the first time in the history of the enduring notion of 39

Quoted from Godwin, Harmonies of Heaven and Earth, 131. Johannes Kepler, The Harmony of the World, translated into English with an introduction and notes by E.J. Aiton, A.M. Duncan, & J.V. Field (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1997), 441-448. 41 Kepler, The Harmony of the World, 441. 42 Kepler, The Harmony of the World, 393. 40

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Harmony off the Spheres,, it is cosmolo ogically impoossible that eaach planet ‘sings’ onlyy in one singgle pitch (Erriugena had already hinteed at the possibility oof “planetary polyphony”, but he heldd to the notio on of the perfectly cirrcular planetarry orbits).

b orbital di distance and sp peed vary Fig. 10: In Kepler’s ellipptical model both depending onn the point of thhe orbit where th he planet is obsserved.

In Chapter 66, Book V of Harmonices H Mundi, M Keplerr takes the farrthest and closest poinnt of each off the orbits (the ( aphelion and perihelion), and, considering that the ellippses they describe vary inn eccentricity from the circle,43 stattes that “in the extremess of planetaryy motions haave been expressed, iin a fashion, the t musical modes m or toness”, and he pro oceeds to present a taable with the scales that cover c the gam mut that wou uld occur between thee aphelion annd perihelion of each of thhe planets, reeproduced here in Fig. 11.44

43

I.e. they aare not all exactly the same type of ellipsee, a bit wider with each successive orbbit, but actuallyy some ellipses are flatter thann others. 44 Kepler, Thee Harmony of thhe World, 439.

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Fig. 11: Keppler’s planetary scales, as giveen in chapter 6 of book V, Harmonices H Mundi.

The same ppitches are exxpressed heree in modern m musical notattion (Fig. 12):

Fig. 12: Modeern notation of Kepler’s planettary scales.

The differennce between Kepler’s plan netary scales (a full scale for each planet) andd all of the previous p mod dels of musiical attributio on to the planets—whhere a scale was w created by b all of the planets together, each planet correesponding to a single to one—is quite remarkable. But his contributionns to the traddition of the Music M of the Spheres did not stop there: by loooking at his model m not as a static one, buut as an eternaally active

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 155

one, Kepler compared the ratios of the aphelion and perihelion of each of the planets with its neighbours, thus arriving to what he called “counterpoint, or universal harmonies, between all the planets”.45 Kepler’s mathematical procedure is outlined by Godwin: The ratios compare the velocities of the planets at their fastest (perihelion) and slowest (aphelion), by calculating how far they go in 24 hours, measured in minutes and seconds of arc as viewed from the Sun. These ratios are then simplified by octave reduction to give an interval between C and C’. For example, the ratio between Jupiter’s maximum and Mars’s minimum speed (ratio k:l) is as 5:24. This is equivalent to the interval of two octaves plus a minor third. The two octaves are eliminated by dividing 24 by 4, which gives the ratio 5:6, a minor third.46

Figure 13 shows the full set of proportions between different orbital points, expressed in ratios as well as in pitch classes, which are deduced by the method outlined above.

6.3 Completion of Kepler’s proposal to the outer planets in the first half of the 20th century Kepler’s calculations were so precise that even the planets that had not been identified as such in his time47 show the same type of harmonic ratios. Spurred by such a radical innovation in the tradition of the Music of the Spheres, during the first half of the twentieth century the French researcher Francis Warrwain (1867-1940) designed the table shown in Fig. 13, which tabulates Kepler’s data.48 Warrwain also includes data Kepler did not have regarding the orbits of Pluto, Neptune and Uranus. Notice the 45

Kepler, Harmonices Mundi, 441. Godwin, Harmonies of Heaven and Earth, 135. 47 Uranus had been observed since 1690, but mistakenly catalogued as a star or a comet until recognized as a planet in 1781 by William Herschel. Neptune’s case is similar, first observed by Galileo in 1612, but again mistaken for a star, and only proposed as a planet by Urbain Le Verrier (1811-1877) in 1846. Pluto was first observed by Percival Lowell (1855-1916) in 1915, but again not recognized as a planet until the 1929-1930 observations by Clyde William Tombaugh (1906-1997). In 2006 Pluto was re-classified as a dwarf-planet by the International Astronomical Union (in the same category as other solar-system objects such as Ceres, Haumea, Makemake and Eris). 48 Francis Warrwain, Essai sur l’Harmonices Mundi ou Musique du Monde de Johann Kepler (Paris: Hermann & cie., 1942, 2 Vols.), quoted in Godwin, Harmonies of Heaven and Earth, 135. 46

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Fig. 13: Kepler’s (and for the outer planets Warrwain’s) calculations of proportional distances between planetary aphelia and perihelia, expressed in ratios and musical pitch-classes.

Correspondences of the Planets of the Solar System to Musical Pitches 157

harmonic proportions that occur also in these exterior planets, confirming in quite a surprising way Kepler’s intuition that Pythagoras was right all along, and the solar system is configured according to musical (or more precisely, harmonical) laws and ratios. Warrwain’s calculations both prove Kepler’s intuitions regarding a harmonical cosmos (or at least a harmonical solar system) and additionally reflect the interest, even in the 20th century, of finding the musical equivalences of the planets, even of the newer planets not known to previous theoreticians in this long tradition. From Plato to Warrwain, the tradition of the Music of the Spheres has evolved across 25 centuries, adapting itself to changing cosmological models as well as to the musical practices and theories that surrounded the authors of models of musical equivalences which connect the skies with that deeply human, yet mysteriously extra-human phenomenon: music.

CHAPTER EIGHT HOMOCENTRIC SCIENCE IN A HELIOCENTRIC UNIVERSE LIANA SAIF

Abstract This paper will discuss the appropriation of medieval Arabic notions of astral causation in seventeenth-century English defences of astrology, paying special attention to the Defence of Judiciall Astrologie by Sir Christopher Heydon (15611623). In his Al-Madkhal al-Kabir, Abu Ma‘shar al-Balkhi (787-886), influential throughout the Renaissance, proposed a unique theory of astral influences according to which the heavenly bodies are efficient causes, not just signs, of generation and change. They give matter its forms. Astrology becomes the etiological study of the inclinations of terrestrial events as a result of the astral/formal links. Though set in a geocentric universe, the location of the earth is irrelevant and the homocentricity of astrology is emphasized. Influenced by Abu Ma‘shar, Heydon’s adoption of astral causation and homocentricity as bases for his epistemological approach to astrology enabled him and other seventeenthcentury astrologers to “naturalise” its theory as a response to the compromised theoretical integrity of astrology in a heliocentric universe.

By the seventeenth century, the heavens were in turbulence. Matters believed to be true and immutable about the cosmos were questioned and debunked. De revolutionibus orbium coelestium (On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres) was published in 1543 and in it Copernicus challenged and eventually changed the long accepted view of a geocentric universe. Earth, and by default humanity, no longer occupied the centre of the universe. This new cosmological reality swept through Europe and was promoted in England by Thomas Digges (ca. 1543-1595). Between 1577 and 1596, Tycho Brahe observed comets for the first time, which cast

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doubt on the immutability of the heavens.1 In addition, new stars were seen in 1572 and 1604 and Galileo discovered the four satellites of Jupiter.2 The invention of the microscope and the telescope, the discovery of blood circulation and the development of anatomy, physiology and the science of motion—all conspiring with the new cosmology—accelerated a paradigm shift in scientific knowledge between the second half of the sixteenth and the end of the seventeenth centuries which altered the early modern view of nature. Astrology was especially challenged as its theories were based on a Ptolemaic finite universal order. Arguably, if the infrastructure upon which astrology operated was proven to be false, then the stars’ influences could not be determined. On the surface, it seemed that the new theoretical, technological and empirical standards dealt a final blow to astrology and caused the decline of occult sciences in general, as Keith Thomas concluded in his influential Religion and the Decline of Magic.3 However, my investigation emerges from what Mary Ellen Bowden referred to as the internal history of astrology.4 I want to show how astrologers themselves in seventeenth-century England reconditioned astrology according to the new paradigm shift, thus challenging the notion of its demise in the seventeenth century in terms of practice, as Patrick Curry illuminates in Prophecy and Power: Astrology in Early Modern England, and in theory as I aim to demonstrate here.5 In Astrology and the Seventeenth-Century Mind, Ann Geneva perceives seventeenth-century astrological knowledge as computational on one level and interpretive on another: “Once the celestial paradigm had been accurately determined, the astrologer identified the meanings of literally scores of variables selected from these, and synthesized them into a pattern, which was then translated from astrology’s symbolic language into the vernacular.”. Geneva added that since astrologers often did not 1

Allen G. Debus, Man and Nature in the Renaissance (NJ and Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 5: 89. 2 Keith Thomas, Religion and the Decline of Magic: Studies in the Popular Beliefs of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century England (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1971), 11: 349. Ann Geneva, Astrology and the Seventeenth-Century Mind (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 1995), xiii-xiv. 3 Thomas, Religion and the Decline of Magic, 11: 350. Bernard Capp, English Almanacs 1500-1800: Astrology and the Popular Press (New York: Ithaca, 1979), 280-1. 4 Mary Ellen Bowden, The Scientific Revolution in Astrology: The English Reformers (1558-1686) (unpublished doctoral thesis, Yale University, 1974), 3. 5 Patrick Curry, Prophecy and Power: Astrology in Early Modern England (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1989), 3, 7, passim.

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bother with computation—their only scientific tool or recourse to exactitude—then astrology was not science and therefore the mission of astrologers such as William Lilly was to prove that the practice was compatible with Christianity.6 Thus, Geneva reduced astrological theory to mathematical calculations and overlooked the fact that the “celestial paradigm” encompassed epistemological stances that were destabilized in the seventeenth century due to the issue of geocentricity vs. heliocentricity and other astronomical discoveries. This article will show that, as a response to the compromised theoretical integrity of astrology in a heliocentric universe, reformers of astrology had to address its legitimate status by demonstrating its theoretical reconcilability with the new astronomy, and present it as a targeted and specialised epistemic activity with theories of astral influences that could be explained in natural terms. I argue that to address the matter of reconcilability, they emphasized its homocentricity. Even though astrology was originally conceived in a geocentric world-view, it is concerned with the impact of the stars and planets on humanity and Earth irrespective of their location in relation to it. To give astrology scientific credibility, a theory of astral influences that emphasized the causal kind of relationship between the world above and the world below was needed. To demonstrate the theoretical foundations of reformed astrology, I will focus on A Defence of Judiciall Astrologie by Sir Christopher Heydon (1561-1623), which was written as a response to A Treatise Against Iudicial Astrologie by John Chamber, an English astronomer. Heydon was up to date directly with the astronomical developments of the time, as he exchanged numerous letters with Kepler in 1605.7 Chamber tenaciously attempted to refute the arguments of the Defence in a sequel entitled A Confutation of Astrological Daemonology. The Defence was widely read in the astrological circles of the English Renaissance. The prolific astrologers of the seventeenth century who advocated a restoration of astrology referred to it to demonstrate the possibility of reconciling astrological theory with the new astronomical discoveries. For example, the astrologer and ephemeris writer William Lilly (1602-1681) referred to the Defence as an example of an adequate response to the opponents of astrology.8 The astrologer William Ramesey 6

Geneva, Astrology and the Seventeenth-Century Mind, 1: 9. Correspondence between Heydon and Kepler dated October 1605 in Johannes Kepler, Gesammelte Werke, ed. Walther von Dycket et al. (München: C.H. Beck, 1937-2009), Vol. 15: 231 (Nr. 357). 8 William Lilly, England’s Propheticall Merlin (London: printed by John Raworth, 1644), ‘To the Reader’, b. 7

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(1627-ca.1675) relied heavily on Heydon’s arguments in his own astrological treatises. Heydon’s work also provoked further attacks such as George Carlton’s Astrologomania (1624) and William Rowland’s Judiciall Astrologie Judicially Condemned (1651), the latter not only condemning Heydon but also Ramesey, whom he influenced.9 The debate between Heydon and Chamber is significant as they both displayed nuanced knowledge of the contemporary discourse surrounding astronomy and astrology and the history of their development, rendering their scholarly exchange a cogent representation of the polemics of astrology in the seventeenth century. This article contends that to support the argument for astrology’s homocentricity and scientific legitimacy, Heydon relied on medieval Arabic notions of astral causation that described astral influences in natural terms, incorporating astrology into the category of natural philosophy. An Arabic theory of astral causation can be synthesized from two primary works: Al-Madkhal al-kabir ila ‘ilm ahkam al-nujum (The Great Introduction of the Science of the Judgments of the Stars) by the astrologer Abu Ma‘shar al-Balkhi (787-886) and De radiis by the philosopher and proponent of astrology Ya‘qub ibn Ishaq al-Kindi (ca. 801-873), a contemporary of Abu Ma‘shar. This theory supported the semiological approach to the operation of the heavenly bodies by understanding the originating principle of the celestial signs; i.e., the efficient causes of earthly events.10 By causes here, I do not mean mechanical ones in the modern sense, but I employ a wider connotation as causes responsible for the way in which a thing emerges; thus allowing for the natural and astral phenomenon to simultaneously have two levels of investigation: scientific and hermeneutic. The Great Introduction of Abu Ma‘shar was translated twice in the twelfth century and was very influential on Renaissance occultists and astrologers.11 In the seventeenth century, John Greaves, Gresham College’s 9

William Rowland, Judiciall Astrologie Judicially Condemned (London: printed by Roger Daniel, 1657). 10 Richard Lemay, Abu Ma‘shar and Latin Aristotelianism in the Twelfth Century: The Recovery of Aristotle’s Natural Philosophy through Arabic Astrology (Beirut: American University of Beirut, 1962), 64. 11 David Pingree, ‘Astrology’, in The Cambridge History of Arabic Learning: Religion, Learning, and Science in the ‘Abbasid Period, ed. M. J. L. Young, J. D. Latham, and R. B. Serjeant (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 297; F. J. Carmody, Arabic Astronomical and Astrological Sciences in Latin Translation: A Critical Bibliography (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1959), 92-3; Abu Ma‘shar Al-Balkhi, On Historical Astrology, ed. and trans. Keiji

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own Savilian Professor of Astronomy, owned an illustrated manuscript of Abu Ma‘shar’s Great Introduction in the original Arabic which was brought to him by Edward Pococke.12 John Dee (1527-1608) owned the Great Introduction and al-Kindi’s De radiis. Abu Ma‘shar was certainly a recognized authority on astrology in England; the English dramatist Thomas Lodge (ca. 1558-1625) cited Abu Ma‘shar to prove the stellar evidence of the holiness of the Mother of God.13 The Puritan theologian Thomas Adams (fl. 1612-1653) used the same reference in a sermon delivered at Paul’s Cross on the third of December of the year 1615 whilst talking about the Star of Bethlehem.14 On a more literary level, a significant piece of evidence of Abu Ma‘shar’s popularity is the play entitled Albumazar by Thomas Tomkis (ca. 1580-1634), where Albumazar (a common Latinization of Abu Ma‘shar) was set in opposition to Galileo in an exchange that expressed astrology’s indifference to the universal view of the stars’ location and instead emphasizes the homocentric view that deciphered their visible configurations and their significance to human beings, becoming sidera humana. Albumazar. Ronca, the bunch of planets new found out Hanging at th'end of my best Perspicill, Send them to Galilaeo at Padua; Let him bestow them where he please, but th'starres Lately discouered 'twixt the hornes of Aries, Are as a present for Pandolfo's marriage And henceforth stil'd Sidera Pandolfaea. Pandolofo. My marriage Cricca! hee foresee's my marriage: O most Celestiall Albumazar! (I.5. 1-9).15

Yamamoto and Charles Burnett, 2 Vols (Leiden: Brill, 2000), I: xi-xiv; John D. North, ‘Celestial Influence – The Major Premise of Astrology’, in ‘Astrologi Hallucinati’: Stars and the End of the World in Luther’s Time, ed. Paola Zambelli (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1986), 52. 12 G. J. Toomer, Eastern Wisdom and Learning: The Study of Arabic in Seventeenth Century England (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 7: 152-3; 5:130. 13 Thomas Lodge, Prosopopeia containing the teares of the holy, blessed, and sanctified Marie, the Mother of God (London: printed for E. White, 1596), 4, 2 Reg. 6, li. 6 in inter. 14 Thomas Adams, The sacrifice of thankefulnesse A sermon preached at Pauls Crosse, the third of December, being the first Aduentuall Sunday, anno 1615 (London: Printed by Thomas Purfoot, 1616), 85. 15 Thomas Tomkis, Albumazar (London: Printed by Nicholas Oske, 1615), I. 5: 19.

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Chamber was certainly aware of Abu Ma‘shar’s works, as he condemned the latter in his treatise Against Iudicial Astrologie for astrologically determining Christ’s date of birth in his On the Great Conjunctions.16 Heydon defended Abu Ma‘shar by asserting that his errors are those of “Chronologie, but not in Astrologie”.17 Abu Ma’shar was included in Heydon’s index of astronomers who lived post Christum, annexed to his Defence.18 Al-Kindi’s De radiis was also popular amongst early modern natural philosophers and occultists and circulated widely in the Continent and England.19 A significant number of manuscripts of De radiis circulated in England, including one (Oxford, Bodleian, Digby 91) that was copied alongside Roger Bacon’s Perspectiva. The owner of this manuscript was Thomas Allen (1542-1632), a well-known mathematician and a friend of John Dee who owned The Great Introduction and De radiis.20 Heydon was also acquainted with al-Kindi’s theory of stellar rays, as we will see. In the Preface to the Defence addressed to the reader, Heydon asserted: “homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto”, a quote from Terence: I am human, I consider nothing that is human alien to me.21 In initiating a pro-astrology discourse, this can be read as a statement about the centrality of human experience in the practice of astrology; it is a human science and therefore the celestial world cannot be alien; it is an extension of nature; of human nature. The astrologer observes and reflects on the visible phenomena and its impact on human beings. Heydon wrote: “there is no one that is meanly entered into the principles of the sphere, but knoweth that diverse meridians and horizons may alter the position of heaven [my italics]”.22 Though a Copernican astrologer, Heydon referred to altered positions of heavens to Earth from the human perspective in which the location of the visible planets on the horizon is ever changing. Chamber objected, asking if we cannot see and know all the heavenly bodies, then how can astrologers claim to measure and understand all 16

John Chamber, A Treatise Against Iudicial Astrologie (London: Printed by John Harison, 1601), 1:11-12, 8: 42. 17 Christopher Heydon, A Defence of Iudiciall Astrologie (London: Printed by John Legat, 1603), 8: 204. 18 Heydon, A Defence, 12: 308-9; A Chronological Index (unpaged). 19 Charles Burnett, ‘Al-Kindi in the Renaissance,’ in Sapientiam Amemus: Humanismus und Aristotelismus in der Renaissance (München: Wilhelm Fink, ca. 1999), 20-1. 20 Burnett, ‘Al-Kindi’, 20-1. 21 Heydon, A Defence, 2. 22 Heydon, A Defence, 5: 150.

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astral influences? To which Heydon responded that the astrologer does not care for the distant and invisible stars because he is concerned with those that cause chief and sensible effects.23 Before Heydon, this empirical groundwork had been expressed by John Dee who explained in his Propaedeumata Aphoristica that astrologers, through syllogisms and correlating earthly events with heavenly movements, discover higher hidden causes of earthly events and occult properties: “not only are those things to be said to exist which are plainly evident and known by their action in the natural order, but also those which, seminally present, as it were, in the hidden corners of nature, wise men can demonstrate to exist”.24 The empirical principle was the basis for the Arabic theory of astral influences. At the beginning of The Great Introduction, Abu Ma‘shar stressed that “most of the science of the judgements [of the stars] is manifest, visible, and clear, and that part of it that is not manifest is inferred by clear analogies from the science of the nature of things and from what is manifest from the powers of the planetary motions on this world”.25Adopting this method of natural and scientific inquiry, astrological theory, according to Abu Ma‘shar, aimed to reveal principal causes by analyzing analogies or syllogisms according the manifest effects of the planets.26 According to al-Kindi, the astral causes themselves can be deduced from empirical experience which notes the different affinities among generated things. By the exercise of reason, an astrologer is capable of associating visible earthly phenomena with invisible celestial changes.27 So, to Abu Ma‘shar and al-Kindi, Dee and Heydon, astrology is the study of the skies filtered through the human perspective. Therefore, the homocentricity of astrology implies its empirical framework; the astrologer is capable of understanding the causes of earthly events by observation and experience. Heydon used the scientific legitimacy based on a causal mode of interpretation to also provide a religious 23

Heydon, A Defence, 3: 113-4. John Dee, On Astronomy: Propaedeumata Aphoristica (1558 and 1568), trans. Wayne Shumaker (Berkeley: University of California, 1978), II: 123. 25 Abu Ma‘shar al-Balkhi, Al-Madkhal al-kabir ila ‘ilm ahkam al-nujum, ed. Richard Lemay, 9 Vols (Napoli: Istituto Universitario Orientale, 1995-1996) II, i, 2: 7 26 Abu Ma‘shar, Al-Madkhal, 2: 8. 27 Ya‘qub ibn Ishaq al-Kindi, 'On Rays', in The Philosophical Works of al-Kindi, eds. and trans. Peter Adamson and Peter E. Pormann (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2012), 1: 219-20.; M. T. D’Alverny and F. Hudry, ‘De radiis’, Archives d’Historie doctrinale et Litteraire du Moyen Age, 41 (1975): 1: 215-6. 24

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defence of astrology. To prove the religious unlawfulness of astrology, Chamber referred to Jeremiah 10:2 where one is advised: “learn not the way of the heathen, and fear not the signs of the heavens, though the heathen be afraid of such”. Heydon interpreted fears in this verse to mean worship and idolatrous reverence and added: “wherefore when the Prophet calls them signs, it must be confessed of consequence, that he teaches them to signify and that it is lawful for us to observe and understand their significations. For otherwise they should be called signs in vain”.28 However, Heydon asserted that “when they are called signs their causalities are not excluded” and “the same thing may be both a sign and a cause [...] a cause as it works to an effect and a sign as being represented to the sense”.29 The semiological approach to the stars and planets—considering them as signs only—is found in Mesopotamian divination that considered the celestial patterns as a heavenly script written by the gods to communicate omens.30 This view is also found in Platonic and Neoplatonic traditions. In the Enneads, Plotinus explained that the influences of the heavenly bodies proceed from their “symbolic power”. He denied that the stars could be causes and added: “we may think of the stars as letters perpetually being inscribed on the heavens [...] all teems with symbol, the wise man is the man who in any one thing can read another”. Therefore, the stars indicate everyday experience and their “purposeful arrangement” through which human beings can interpret the will of the gods.31 On the other hand, the causal dynamics of the heavens were explicated by Aristotle who attributed the coming to be and passing away of things to the circular motions of the heavens.32 This interpretation was adopted by Ptolemy, who in his Tetrabiblos attributed sublunary change to the motions of the heavenly bodies.33 But the most influential and elaborate exposition of the role of the stars and planets as causes is found in The 28

Heydon, A Defence, 2: 23-7. Heydon, A Defence, 2: 69. 30 Francesca Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 1-4. 31 Plotinus, The Enneads, trans. Stephen MacKenna (London: Penguin Books, 1991), II. 3: 80-1. 32 Jonathan Barnes, trans., The Complete Works of Aristotle (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), ‘Generation and Corruption’, 338a19-338b1; ‘Physics,’ 200b12; ‘Meteorology’, 339a15-24, 340a20-21. 33 Ptolemy, Tetrabiblos, trans. F. E. Robbins (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980), 5-11; Steven V. Broecke, The Limits of Influence: Pico, Louvain, and the Crisis of Renaissance Astrology (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 20-1. 29

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Great Introduction of Abu Ma‘shar. This text has set the standard expression for a natural theory of judicial astrology by assigning the stars and planets a role in the coming to be and generation of everything.34 In The Great Introduction Abu Ma‘shar posited that the cosmic link between the heavens and Earth is due to the fact that the heavenly bodies take a crucial part in the process of the generation of the world below. He wrote: “the terrestrial world is connected to the celestial world and its motions by necessity. Therefore, due to the power of the celestial world and celestial motions, terrestrial things, generated and corruptible, are affected”.35 Abu Ma‘shar’s theory is unique in its adaptation of Aristotelian metaphysics (motion, generation and corruption) to support natural and judicial astrology, something that Aristotle himself had not done and Ptolemy had not clarified; Abu Ma‘shar proposed an explanation of how the influence from above works upon the sublunary world.36 Abu Ma‘shar departed from Aristotle by adding another ingredient to the generation of natural things; namely, the astral agent.37 This agent acts in three ways. First, it draws together form and matter; second, it is responsible for the diversity of genus and species because forms are determined in the process of generation according to the different qualities and virtues of the heavenly bodies; third, the astral agent is responsible for the mixing and the harmony between the body of the generated being and its soul.38 Thus, Abu Ma‘shar considered the planets as the efficient causes and active principles of generation and corruption.39 Adopting Abu Ma‘shar’s theory of astral influences, Heydon explained that the stars are the efficient causes of all alteration, procreation and our inclination: the stars are “the most excellent efficient causes”; they are also “the efficient causes of our inclinations”.40 He also accepted that they act as agents for the union of form and matter in generation: “the particular forms of every generated thing are impressed by heaven”.41 Encompassing causal inquiries in comprehending the meanings of the stars and planets as signs found its way into Abu Ma’shar’s astrological 34

Pingree, ‘Astrology’, 297. Abu Ma‘shar, Al-Madkhal, 2: 19. 36 Lemay, Abu Ma‘shar and Latin Aristotelianism, 8, 63. 37 Aristotle, ‘Physics’, 192b35-6; Lemay, Abu Ma‘shar and Latin Aristotelianism, 64-9, 70-5, 77, 99. 38 Al-Balkhi, Al-Madkhal, 2: 24-25; Lemay, Abu Ma‘shar and Latin Aristotelianism, 66, 82-3. 39 Lemay, Abu Ma‘shar and Latin Aristotelianism, 56-66. 40 Heydon, A Defence, 2: 99, 102. 41 Heydon, A Defence, 5: 152. 35

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theory through Stoicism,42 according to which the cosmos is a network of causal channels through which the vivifying power of the pneuma flows.43 Due to the fact that Abu Ma‘shar’s Aristotelianism was received from post-classical works and thus combined Stoic and Neoplatonist doctrines, he constructed a theory that reconciled Neoplatonic semiology with Aristotelian and Stoic causality.44 This is apparent in his assertion that the planets act as causes for the union of souls and bodies, arguing that the intelligent souls of the planets and stars are responsible for the harmony of the human soul; a causality that allows for divine volition and takes the soul into account. The stars and planets are themselves alive, intelligent and have rational souls which receive the power of volition from God.45 His mode of causality, then, encompassed the divine aspect of the rational and deliberating soul. The universe is thus governed by a non-mechanistic and volitional kind of causal relations.46 This philosophical reconciliation was depicted and commented on by Heydon. He asserted that Arabic astrologers had struck a balance between Stoic rigid causal determinism and Epicurian rejection of the involvement of God in natural generation. He added: Astrologers guiding themselves in a middle course between these two dangerous rocks, they affirm, that God doth ordinarily govern that which he doth make, by those things which he hath made, as these inferior and elementary bodies depend upon superior causes; and withal, that these second and superior causes, depend upon God the supreme and first cause of all things [...] neither do astrologers imagine him to govern by these second causes as princes are wont by inferior magistrates and do nothing themselves; but they acknowledge all things to subsist, live, and move in God, that if he withdraw his own divine power from them, by which they are sustained; not only the stars but the whole frame of the world would go to ruin.47

Thus, relying on such arguments probably drawn from Abu Ma‘shar, Heydon was responding to Chamber’s accusatory remark that astrologers

42

Lemay, Abu Ma‘shar and Latin Aristotelianism, 44, 106. Peter Struck, ‘A World Full of Signs: Understanding Divination in Ancient Stoicism’, in Seeing with Different Eyes: Essays on Astrology and Divination, ed. Patrick Curry and Angela Voss (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Press, 2007), 7-8. 44 Lemay, Abu Ma‘shar and Latin Aristotelianism, 44. 45 Abu Ma‘shar, Al-Madkhal, 2: 36. 46 North, ‘Celestial Influence’, 55. 47 Heydon, A Defence, 1: 21. 43

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unlawfully believe that the stars enforce human actions and thus impeach on God’s providence. It is important to note that by establishing a naturalistic and causal description of astrological influences, Heydon was not advocating a mechanistic astrology devoid of the divine. Heydon dedicated his work to establish the religious lawfulness and scientific status of astrology, and so to reinstate astrology as a non-superstitious and licit activity he denied any demonic intervention. The omnipresence of God is the only power that flows in the network of sympathies and the causal links, and as such He is capable of overthrowing the order of nature itself. Heydon criticised those opponents of astrology whom he believed actually “robbed God of his divine providence, and therefore attribute no more efficacy to the influence of the stars”.48 This efficacy is received from Him whose “omnipotent word did create them and in the riches of his infinite mercy did also as well by his eternal providence foreordained their ministry, as he does still sustain the same as his next means, and instruments, for the ordinary government of this inferior and elementary world”.49 Heydon thus reinstated God’s omnipresence and omniscience in the astral scheme of things, arguably in a way that attenuated the multiplicity of animistic astrology of fifteenth-century Italy, such as that of Marsilio Ficino (14331499). The power of God is manifest in the heavens and the dynamics of astral causation, so the celestial bodies are God’s instruments in that they are efficient causes. Thus Heydon wrote: “astrology is a science because it is deduced from determinate causes” and the impact of the celestials invisible in our Horizon “alone is sufficient to convince”.50 The horizon becomes a principal constituent for homocentric astrology, as it is the metaphorical meridian of the human experience of astral influences and the stage of the stars. Heydon explained: “it is not always so necessary to consider all the stars in heaven; for some there are that never shine above our horizon”.51 For him, shining is influencing. After establishing that the connection between the world above and that of Man is generative and causal, he explained that the stars unite form and matter in generation by means of the “insensible beams which we call their influences”, which vary according to the qualities of the planets producing them, resulting in the diversity of species.52 These “beams” are appropriated from al-Kindi’s theory of stellar rays found in his influential 48

Heydon, A Defence, 6. Heydon, A Defence, 2-3. 50 Heydon, A Defence, 12: 293. 51 Heydon, A Defence, 3:116. 52 Heydon, A Defence, 6:163. 49

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De radiis where, accepting the generative function of the stars, he stated that generation and corruption and elemental transformation take place through the actions of these rays. He explained: The arrangement of the stars governed the world of elements and all things in it composed of them, at whatever time or place, to such an extent that there is no substance, no accident exists here without also being in its way figured in the sky. The influence of the stars is undoubtedly due to the rays sent from the [the stars] into the world [...] all things come to be and exist through rays.53

Furthermore, al-Kindi noted that the variety of species and natural diversity are the result of diversity in the quality of stellar rays due to the various natures of the planets and stars from which they projected. AlKindi wrote: “each star has its own proper nature and condition [...] which cannot in its totality be found in any other star [...] so the rays themselves are of diverse natures in different stars, just as the stars themselves are of diverse natures”.54 The diversity of the rays is responsible, then, for the diversity of species due to the different forms that are governed by the different planets and stars.55 These beams were described by Heydon as “lightsome” and spiritually different from the accidental light of fire, and al-Kindi assigned to them a nature that is life-giving.56 Humans are capable of reflecting on the cosmos; their gaze, directed through the horizon, then reflects on the visible signs on Earth, on bodies and on inclinations. They have the epistemological tools to demonstrate those effects in natural terms. Heydon wrote: “I confess astrologers containing themselves within the bounds of natural philosophy and reason do take upon them so much as lawfully as they may, that is to foretell the constitution of the body, together with the natural inclinations of the mind, and such events as depend upon evident causes in nature, [...] which I affirm to be lawful”.57 Astrology becomes the etiological study of the inclinations of terrestrial events as a result of the astral/formal links. Chamber, who was incapable of appreciating this astrological homocentricity, challenged astrologers with a question: if an ass and a man

53

Al-Kindi, 'On Rays', 1: 222; D’Alverny, ‘De radiis’, 1: 218. Al-Kindi, 'On Rays', 2: 222; D’Alverny, ‘De radiis’, 2: 219. 55 Al-Kindi, 'On Rays', 2: 223-4; D’Alverny, ‘De radiis’, 2: 221-2. 56 Al-Kindi, 'On Rays', 2: 223; D’Alverny, ‘De radiis’, 2: 220-1; Heydon, A Defence, 12: 291-4. 57 Heydon, A Defence, 1: 18. 54

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were born at the same moment, will the stars delineate the same fate. And with a funny and witty response, Heydon retorted: I know not how any that hath wit, to distinguish between himself and an ass could ask so foolish a question, knowing that Homo, and Brutum are more than membra dividentia in that they differ in the whole kind. For I am sure that he is not to learn that God at the first created everything in their kind and that he had endued man with the divine gift of reason, thereby to bear rule and dominion over all other creatures, which being destitute of reason are therefore subordinated to the empire and will of man [...] I will not say that some asses complain without a cause.58

Elsewhere, the reconcilability of homocentric astrology with the new astronomy of the seventeenth century was confidently and clearly stated by Heydon: Chamber further objects the difference among astronomers about the site and order of the planets [...] for whether any of their opinions be true, or whether they be false, whether they be as Tycho would have it but one continued orb, or many, or whether as Copernicus saith, the Sun be the center of the world, and the earth be in the Sun’s place between the sphere of Mars and Venus, the astrologer careth not.59

Thus, he concluded, there “is no impeachment to the principles of arte [of astrology]”.60 During the time referred to as the Scientific Revolution, there was what may seem to be a distrust of astrology and the past authorities who developed it. However, Francis Bacon (1561-1626)—not completely abandoning astrology, but calling for its revision under the name sana astrologia— in his classification of sciences confirmed that the natures and inclinations of the stars and planets are determined “as handed down by tradition; which as they are transmitted with the very general consent, and ought not (except when they are plainly at variance with physical reasons) to be lightly rejected”.61 This is reflective of a paradox characteristic of late sixteenth- and seventeenth-century science; though the rejection of past authorities was a recurring theme, nonetheless, many adopted 58

Heydon, A Defence, 5:158. Heydon, A Defence, 18: 370-1. 60 Heydon, A Defence, 18: 370-1. 61 Francis Bacon, ‘De augmentis scientiarum’, in The Works of Francis Bacon, trans. and ed. James Spedding, Robert Leslie Ellis, and Douglas Denon Heath, 14 Vols (London: Longmans & Co. 1857-1874), 4. III. 4: 353. 59

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elements drawn from them, including such individuals as William Harvey and Robert Fludd.62 The astrologer John Goad (1616-1689) expressed caution towards relying on ancient, medieval and scholastic authorities. He mentioned Abu Ma‘shar, but added: Now, If I shall not fright my Reader, I shall mention Albumazar, 700 years after, from his Treatise, de Magn. Conjunct. that he agrees fully with our Character […] Now, though it be true that there is a great deal of Riff-Raff in these Ancients, Albumazar, &c. such as would make a Christian sick to read them, yet this must be own'd in these and other Gentlemen, that whatsoever sparkling Gems of Natural Truth lies rudely incorporate in these Arabian Rocks, they ought to be severed, laid up and polish'd, till their price may be discernible.63

Perhaps that is what Heydon was doing: reforming the astrology of the past to conform to his present. And so he responded to Chamber, the voice of rejection, by a shift of emphasis; it is not about the centricity of the Earth or the Sun but of the human experience. What is astrology if not the comprehension, human comprehension, of the meaning of visible signs, the reading of which illuminates aspects of human lives and earthly events? Astrological thinking has been part of the human endeavour to find a place in the universe and to comprehend the limits of the human gaze. Echoing the argument of Heydon, the prominent historian Lynn Thorndike (1882-1965) concluded: “for what good will it do to have four moons coursing about Jupiter, if there is no one on that planet to watch them? […] Man is still the measure and centre of all things; he is still astrologically rather than astronomically minded”.64

62

Debus, Man and Nature, 1: 7. John Goad, Astrometeorologica or Aphorisms and Discourses of Bodies Celestial (London: published by J. Rawlins, 1686), II. 1:128. 64 Lynn Thorndike, A History of Magic and Experimental Science, 5 Vols (New York: Columbia University Press, 1941), 7.2: 13-4. 63

CHAPTER NINE THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN METHODS OF NATURAL SCIENCES AND METHODS OF RELIGIOUS STUDIES IN MODERN ASTROLOGY GUSTAV-ADOLF SCHOENER

Abstract In the 19th and 20th centuries in scientific debates, astrology (in the European tradition) has been mostly considered to be a part of astronomy. The main argument is that, although astrologers have applied natural scientific methods to astrology since antiquity, they have drawn the wrong conclusions. Astrologers themselves have frequently tried to verify astrology by means of theoretical and empirical natural-scientific methods. Until now, these efforts have (probably) failed. Nevertheless, in the present day astrology is widespread in all European societies. What is the reason for this? Astrology is integrated in a religious, but not a natural, context, and has religious symbols, ideas and a religious framework to understand life and the world. First of all there are hermetic, theosophical and psychological ideas, but also anecdotal experiences, which determine astrological theory and practice. In this respect astrology is not primarily a subject of naturalscientific methods (in the sense of the most epistemological schools of the 20th century), but rather a subject of a (natural-) religious worldview, and thus a topic of research in the methods of religious studies. In this lecture I would like to locate astrology against the background of this conflict between the theories and methods of the natural sciences, and those of religious studies.

Introduction First, I will briefly explain the way in which the term astrology is understood within this essay. From an historical point of view, the Oriental and European traditions of astrology can be seen as a collective name for different doctrines and practices that assume a relationship and

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communication between the cosmos and human beings or the cosmos and the earthly nature. To discuss this supposed connection and follow the interdisciplinary debates on this topic requires a philosophical and epistemological approach to astrology. In this chapter I will examine the question of what places astrology can occupy in the orchestra of the academic sciences and what places it cannot occupy. I will also detail some perspectives of the modern debates about astrology in a scientific, academic context. Finally I will give my own perspective. My aim is to show that astrology belongs in a religious context. At first glance it might not appear plausible, but it is just this aspect on which I would like to elaborate. In many scientific articles which deal with astrology, it is regarded as an error of scientific observation, as—in some ways—a kind of ‘deformed’ astronomy. The error, it is assumed, lies in coming to false conclusions based on correct observations. Correct observations such as, for instance, the influence of the Sun on the seasons or on vegetation or that of the Moon on the tides and so on, are incorrectly attributed to other stars and in this way astrology comes into being as an erroneous astronomy. These opinions are particularly common in articles with a natural scientific orientation. For example, the German historian Max Steinmetz writes: Astrology is dead and has been for more than 300 years. It was the development of the modern astronomical worldview from Copernicus to Newton and the discovery of new planets since Herschel which led to the decline of the geocentric oriented ancient oriental astral religion.1

I would like to illustrate the ways in which this is not true both in relation to content and methodology. Astrology itself, that of the 20th century up to now, is particularly indifferent in regard to its relationship to the natural sciences. Most astrologers point out that based on the state of scientific knowledge today there is no natural scientific explanation for the relationship between 1

Max Steinmetz, ‘Johann Virdung von Hassfurt, sein Leben und seine astrologischen Flugschriften’, in Paola Zambelli, ed., ‘Astrologi hallucinati’: Stars and the End of the World in Luther’s Time (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1986), 195-214, 196. In a similar way cf. John David North, ‘Celestial influence – the major premises of astrology’, in Zambelli, Astrologi, 45-100; David Pingree, ‘Astrology’, in Philip Wiener, ed., Dictionary of the History of Ideas: Studies of Selected Pivotal Ideas, Vol. 1 (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1973), 118; Hubertus Fischer, ‘Grammatik der Sterne und Ende der Welt’, in Hans-Georg Soeffner, ed., Kultur und Alltag: Soziale Welt. Sonderband 6 (Göttingen: Schwartz, 1988): 194.

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humans and stars or events and stars. The German astrologer Michael Roscher writes: I think that a natural-scientific explanation of astrology is not tenable.2

This means there is no natural-scientific explanation why, for example, the very distant barely visible planet Uranus might have something to do with the earthquake in Japan and the reactor accident in Fukushima in March 2011. For that event there is no natural scientific explanation. However, astrologers are nevertheless convinced that a relationship between Uranus and that earthquake in Japan does in fact exist. But where does this conviction come from? Rather than postulating a theory about this relationship, astrologers point to their personal experience, not in the sense of an empirical research, but in a very subjective way to ‘know’ that there is a relationship. I will quote Christoph Schubert-Weller, the former head of the German Astrologers’ Association (DAV–Deutscher Astrologenverband), who are representative of many astrologers: I have been working for more than three decades on astrology and I have had my evidential experiences. I assume astrology is true and works.3

This meaning of experience is the major premise of all astrological writings and teachings, from antiquity to the present day. But what exactly is experienced? Astrology’s answer is: the experience that there is an analogous relationship between the mythological descriptions of the stars and signs and the character of human beings or events on earth, which may not be understood as a causal, physical one. Analogy means, in this sense, that the characteristics of people and events are also the characteristics of the stars and their movements. To 2 Michael Roscher, Das Astrologiebuch: Berechnung, Deutung, Prognose (München: Knaur, 1989), 33. Thomas Ring, one of the most influential astrologers in Germany in the 20th century, remarks: “The belief in Stellar Influences contradicts everything we know about the stars and their effectiveness”, Thomas Ring, Astrologie ohne Aberglauben. Können wir unser Leben selbst gestalten oder ist es vorbestimmt? (Wien: Econ,1972), 179. The astrologer Ernst Ott comments: “Horoscope Reading is not an exact science. It is an art, a symbolic language, and a creative method. Astrology never describes what is and what is happening, but more the inner meaning of events”, Enst Ott, ‘Astrologie ist keine Wissenschaft’, in Skeptiker (4/96): 132. 3 Christoph Schubert-Weller, Philosophische Fragen der Astrologie (Berlin: Books on Demand, 2011), 21.

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take a simple example from ancient astrology: a war occurring somewhere in the world has a relationship to the (Latin) god of war Mars. The reddish shimmering planet Mars is a manifestation of this war-god in astrology.4 If Mars is in a particular position ‘up there’, this indicates that ‘down here’ on Earth, something similar is happening—as ‘above’ so ‘below’, this is a doctrine of the Hermetic tradition. The micro- and macro-cosmos correspond. In modern astrology, these ancient characteristics of the planetary deities are adhered to, even when most astrologers do not maintain a belief in the gods. Today, according to the astrologer Thomas Ring, the planetary gods with their characteristics have to be understood as ‘principles’ and ‘forces’.5 However, in modern astrology no natural-scientific theory is apparent as to why this is so, but it cites experience—mainly personal— with regard to conversations between astrologers and clients involving the horoscope. Comparing anecdotal evidence allows a structured system of rules to be recognised, which in turn shows that these mythological descriptions are accurate. On this basis, astrology likes to be regarded as an experiential science or as evidential experience in the philosophical-phenomenological sense of evidence as certainty.6 It is too complicated to clarify fully what this means here, but this much can be said: with the use of the terms 4

Wilhelm Gundel, ‘Planeten’, in Georg Wissowa, ed., Paulys Realencyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaften (RE), Vol. XX, 2 (1940; Stuttgart: Druckenmüller, 1964): 2027/2028; Claudius Ptolemäus, Tetrabiblos, ed. Reinhardt Stiehle (1553; Mössingen: Chiron, 1995), 110; cf. Claudius Ptolemy, Tetrabiblos (gr.-engl.), ed. Frank Egleston Robbins (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980), 183 (II.8). 5 Thomas Ring, ‘Astrologische Menschenkunde’, in Kräfte und Kräftebeziehungen, Vol. I (Freiburg/Br.: Bauer Hermann Verlag, 1990), 1-4. 6 Following René Descartes and Franz Brentano, Edmund Husserl has introduced evidential experience as a category of philosophical-phenomenological cognition. Edmund Husserl, Cartesianische Meditationen. Eine Einleitung in die Phänomenologie, ed. Elisabeth Ströker (Hamburg: Meiner, 1977), 13-16 (I § 5). Cf. ‘Evidence’, in Enzyklopädie Philosophie und Wissenschaft, Vol. 1: A-G, ed. Jürgen Mittelstrass (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1995), 609. In this sense the term evidential experience is used by some astrologers, for example Herbert v. Klöckler, Astrologie als Erfahrungswissenschaft (1927; München: Diederichs, 1989); Peter Niehenke, Kritische Astrologie. Zur erkenntnistheoretischen und empirischpsychologischen Prüfung ihres Anspruchs (Freibutg/Br.: Hermann Bauer, 1987): 69-87; Ring, Astrologie ohne Aberglauben, 179-182; Thomas Ring, Astrologische Menschenkunde, Vol. 1: Kräfte und Kräftebeziehungen (Freiburg/Br.: Hermann Bauer Verlag, 1990), 198, 216.

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‘experiential science’ and ‘evidential experience’, astrology lays claim to being a science or at least to becoming a science. Against this background I would like to explore the question, from the beginning, of what place astrology can occupy in the orchestra of the academic sciences and what places it cannot occupy. I would like to do this in four steps: 1. What is not possible? In what respects does astrology have no chance of being a science. 2. Why is it not possible? 3. What is possible? 4. Astrology and its religious perspective.

1. What is not possible? The invocation of experience, of personal experience, means that astrology has no chance of being recognised as a science. The astronomer and astrologer Johannes Kepler wrote in 1610 that “experience is so clear that one cannot deny it to astrology”.7 Even when this was stated by an astronomer as renowned as Kepler, it is not enough to found a science. Experience alone is not enough even when it exists as empirical studies which aim to transfer these experiences to results that can be tested, even when such studies appear significant and one cannot at first see where the mistake is or whether a mistake exists at all. The American astronomer George Abell, who scrutinised the study of French statistician Michel Gauquelin from the Paris Sorbonne and found no errors, wrote that “(despite this) I have a strong suspicion that Gauquelin’s results will ultimately prove deceptive. However, if by some wonderful coincidence they were to be even partially true, this would represent an enormous milestone (in science)...”.8 Scientific distrust toward astrology runs very deep.9 Thus, no scientific recognition of astrology can be expected to result from experience and statistics. 7

Johannes Kepler, Tertius Interveniens. Warnung an die Gegner der Astrologie (1610; München: Kindler, 1971), 99. 8 George Abell, cited in Hans Jürgen Eysenck and David Nias, Astrology Science or Superstition? (London: Maurice Temple Smith, 1982), 289. 9 The most prominent examples are given by the philosophers Theodor W. Adorno and Karl Popper. Theodor W. Adorno, The Stars down to Earth: The Los Angeles Times Astrology Column. A Study in Secondary Superstition (in Jahrbuch für Amerikastudien 2 (1957): 19-82; Karl Popper, Vermutungen und Widerlegungen.

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2. Why it isn’t possible? Why is this so? I have come to the second question. What is astrology missing that would allow it to be recognized as a science? It is well known that there are two approaches to conducting science: either one deduces a general theory from experience, or one works from a general theory (or general sentences) through observation sentences (or singular sentences) to arrive at confirmation in experience. However, both are required: the coherent theory and the experience. This is the consensus in the most epistemological approaches.

Karl Popper I will quote Sir Karl Popper from his writing in The Logic of Scientific Discovery. Here Popper doesn’t comment on astrology directly, but on fortune-telling in general (for example, palm-reading). He writes: The reason why we do not accord a positive degree of corroboration to the typical prophecies of palmists and soothsayers is that their predictions are so cautious and imprecise that their logical probability of their being correct is extremely high. And if we are told that more precise and thus logically less probable predictions of this kind have been successful, then it is not, as a rule, their success that we are inclined to doubt so much as their alleged logical improbability: since we tend to believe that such prophecies are non-corroborable, we also tend to argue in such cases from their low degree of corroborability to their low degree of testability.10

What Popper means is this: palm lines are themselves a biological reality. A predicted event—for example ‘you will marry at 40!’—is a social reality. There is, however, no theoretical explanation for what the one might have to do with the other even when the predicted event occurs one hundred times and experience appears to confirm the prediction. The basic assumption of Popper’s critical rationalism is that an experience may be correct and it can repeatedly be correct, but if no plausible theory exists in

Das Wachstum der wissenschaftlichen Erkenntnis, Teilband I: Vermutungen, in Erik Boettcher, ed., Die Einheit der Gesellschaftswissenschaften. Studien in den Grenzbereichen der Wirtschafts- und Sozialwissenschaften, Vol. 86 (1963; Tübingen: Mohr, 1994), 52. 10 Karl Popper, The Logic of Scientific Discovery (London: Hutchinson, 1968 [1959]), 269 f.

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which there is a relationship between palm lines (or stars) and event (only that can be proved as right or wrong), it is not a scientific statement.11 In his writing Conjectures and Refutations from 1963 he comments that astrology is unscientific—side by side with the psychology of Sigmund Freud and Alfred Adler and theories on history like those of Karl Marx.12 Of course, this must also apply to astrology: in astrology, when a connection is observed between two simultaneous events such as, for example, the entry of the planet Uranus into the zodiac sign Aries on March 11, 2011 and the earthquake in Japan on the same day with the atomic catastrophe in Fukushima, and even when this was predicted in approximate terms by astrologers, a plausible theory is still missing to explain the relationship.13 In this case, astrologers point to the analogy of Uranus as energy, uranium as an element used to produce nuclear power and Aries means unfettered power being expressed.14 But scientifically speaking, astrology does not fail in terms of experience, but rather on its lack of theory. By the way, this would also be the case, if one were to proceed inverse to Popper by the logical empiricist school and demand a theory from experience. Here, too, the theory would be missing. But it would be different, if scientific preconditions were different, such as in Thomas Kuhn’s Paradigm Shift or in the case of Anything Goes by Paul Feyerabend.

Theodor W. Adorno Many critical approaches to astrology run along the same lines as Popper’s. For instance, Theodor W. Adorno writes: “Astrology is irrational 11

The kernel of this theory is what Popper calls ‘Falsification’. Karl Popper, Conjectures and Reputations: The Growth of Scientific Knowledge (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1963), 37-39. 13 The internet journal of the Swiss ASTRODATA wrote on 6 March 2011 in its prediction for the subsequent week 7-13 March on tendencies like “angestaute Kräfte können sich explosiv entladen” (pent-up force could discharge explosively), “ungezügelte Kräfte können ungebremst zum Ausdruck kommen” (unbridled powers could express themselves unchecked), “unerwartete Störfälle in Bezug auf Elektronik und Technik” (unexpected breakdowns in relation to electronics and technology, (all citations translated by the author), at http://www.astrodata.com/shop.asp?action=weeklycontent&ccat=2&nav=45 (the full text was sent to the author on 29 February 2012). 14 Swiss ASTRODATA. 12

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because it claims that the movement of the stars are connected with psychological reactions. Not even the slightest proof can be offered for such a connection. This unreflective allegation places astrology close to totalitarian ideologies...”.15 For Adorno, a theoretical foundation for the relationship between cosmos and human is also missing.

The German Handbuch religionswissenschaftlicher Grundbegriffe (HrwG) The Handbuch religionswissenschaftlicher Grundbegriffe (Handbook of Basic Concepts in Religious Studies) defines astrology in a similar way: “Astrologie ist eine Pseudo-Wissenschaft, die im Kern an das geozentrische Weltbild gebunden ist, ohne dass sie mit der Widerlegung ihrer Voraussetzungen verschwunden ist.”.16 (Astrology is essentially a pseudo-science, bound to a geocentric perspective, which has not disappeared despite its premises being disproved [translated by the author]). That is: as long as humans believe that the Earth is ‘below’ and that the stars revolve around the Earth and affect things from ‘above’, astrology will be to some degree plausible. However, once the geocentric view of the world was disproved, astrology lost all reason for existing, but when it continued to exist despite this, then it was doing so in an unfounded way. So, the lack of a plausible theory is complained of here, too.

3. What is possible? I would like to introduce my third point namely: ‘what is possible?’ with a quote from the physicist Carl Friedrich von Weizsäcker, which may surprise you. In a broadcast in 1976, Weizsäcker commented extensively on his experiences with astrology. According to him, he took part in astrology courses in Strasburg led by perhaps the most influential German-speaking astrologist of the twentieth century, Thomas Ring, and compiled around 60 horoscopes for prominent personalities according to Ring’s methods. He said: 15

Theodor W. Adorno, ‘The Stars down to Earth: The Los Angeles Times Astrology Column. A Study in Secondary Superstition’, Jahrbuch für Amerikastudien 2 (1957): 84. 16 Jürgen Ebach: ‘Astrologie’, Handbuch religionswissenschaftlicher Grundbegriffe (HrwG) II (1990): 83.

Methods of Natural Sciences and Religious Studies on Modern Astrology 181 As a physicist, I approached astrology with the highest degree of scepticism. I don’t know, what needed to happen in order for astrology to be true. Merely by occupying myself with it, however, I have the impression that there is something to it. I am still sceptical towards astrologers, but I am also sceptical of the opinion of physicists, that the only true things are those that they have themselves understood.17

Weizsäcker, too, misses the absence of a theory, but he nevertheless regards astrology positively from personal experience. At this point, I would like to leave the question of a valid theory and turn to another question, namely: from what field of knowledge does astrology originate?

Origins of Astrology Originally, astrology and its view of the world were related to the polytheistic and animistic natural religions of Mesopotamia, ancient Egypt and Hellenistic times. The term natural religion means that nature and the cosmos are animated and populated by divine beings, are formed through divine powers, and that the cosmos is not ‘empty space’ and ‘dead material’ but rather ‘lives’, just as an organism does, steered by an internal intelligence. The earliest written system in these Oriental and European cultures, Sumerian cuneiform writing, shows that the planets were identified with the gods. In fact, the character representing the words planet and god were one and the same.18 This means that in the early stages of systematic observation of the skies, there was basically no difference between star and god. In ancient times Aristotle, the forefather of empirical sciences, had particular significance in the founding of astrology. He wrote (in a similar manner to Plato) that the stars are similar to humans—complexes made up of mind, body and soul.19 This concept has been taken up by astrology and 17 Interview on radio station SRW II (Süddeutscher Rundfunk II), 7 January 1976, cited in Peter Niehenke, Kritische Astrologie. Zur erkenntnistheoretischen und empirisch-psychologischen Prüfung ihres Anspruchs (Freiburg/Br., Aurum, 1987), 22. 18 Franz Boll, Sternglaube und Sterndeutung. Die Geschichte und das Wesen der Astrologie (Leipzig: Teubner, 1926), 11. 19 Aristoteles, Über den Himmel, transl. Alberto Jori, ed. Ernst Gundlach, in Werke in deutscher Übersetzung, Vol. 12, Part III (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2009), I 2, 269a, 30–32; II 2, 285a 27–31; II 3, 286a 10–12. Cf. Harold Cherniss, Unbewegter Beweger und Gestirnseelen in ‚De Philosophi’, in

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one of the fundamental questions of astrology was: how do the intelligent beings ‘above’ (the stars) communicate with the intelligent beings ‘below’ (humans and nature)? The answer is the entire cosmos is permeated by an invisible force—the ‘ether’ or the ‘pneuma’or the ‘logos’ or the ‘soul of the world’—that connects everything with everything else and enables exchange.20 The belief in a ‘world soul’ was, then, the bridge between humans and the stars. In traditional astrology, the cosmos is regarded as a living space, filled with intelligence. This view also applied, even in early modern times, for Kepler, Galileo and Isaac Newton. This means, then, that the question of a theory had to confine itself to determining analogies that required a religious cosmic order with gods and divine forces to remain plausible. Thus, the worldview of astrology is fundamentally a religious one and it is only in this manner that it can be founded through an internal logic.

Alice Ann Bailey This star religion still exists today as esoteric astrology, which has established itself in the field of theosophy. Here I will quote Alice Ann Bailey (1880-1949), a member of the Theosophical Society. In a 1920 book titled Esoteric Astrology she writes: Space is an entity and the entire ‘vault of heaven’ is the phenomenal appearance of that entity. You will note that I did not say the material appearance, but the phenomenal appearance. Speculation about the nature, the history and identity of that entity is useless and of no value. [...] In esoteric astrology we are dealing with the Life and Lives which inform the ‘points of light’ within the universal Life. Constellations, solar systems, planets, kingdoms in nature and microscopic man are all of them the result of the activity and the manifestation of energy of certain Lives […]. - The ether of space is the field in and through which the energies from the many originating Sources play. We are, therefore, concerned with the etheric body of the planet, of the solar system […] It forms one unbroken

Paul Moraux, ed., Frühschriften des Aristoteles (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Bucjgesellschaft, 1975, Wege der Forschung CCXXIV), 81–95. 20 Plotinus, Ob die Sterne wirken (Enneaden II, 3, 1–18), ed. by Richard Harder, in Plotins Schriften, Vol. 5: die Schriften 46–54 der chronologischen Reihenfolge (Hamburg: Meiner, 1960): II, 3, 7, 246. Cf. Christoph Horn, Plotin über Sein, Zahl und Einheit, Part I, Sein als die potentielle Vielheit und als die Einheit der Genera (Stuttgart: Teubner, 1995), 13–148.

Methods of Natural Sciences and Religious Studies on Modern Astrology 183 field of activity in constant ceaseless motion—an eternal medium for the exchange and transmission of energies.’21

This means: all special bodies in the cosmos have special meaning and therefore, one can ‘read’ the movements of the stars. This belief in an animated cosmos connects directly to the philosophies of antiquity, including those of Aristotle and particularly with Neo-Platonism.

Psychological Astrology However, esoteric astrology is represented by a minority today. The majority of astrologers (the DAV, the Astrological Association in Germany, has about 1,000 members and around a dozen independent schools) do not follow this religious tradition or at most only partially. To speak of ‘star-gods’ is not appropriate for most astrologers today. They understand them as symbols, as part of the human psyche and of the unconscious, but also as symbols which point to the meaning of each appearance and each event. In modern astrology Carl-Gustav Jung’s idea of the ‘collective unconscious’ is of particular significance here. Jung believed that images and symbols are stored in the deeper layers of human consciousness, and are repeated within large groups of people. He called these images archetypes.22 For Jung, all religions with their myths and rites are archetypes translated into cultural form. Thus the ‘star-gods’ are reflections of the human unconscious as a projection of the structure of personality onto the night sky. What astrologers see in the sky are, according to Carl-Gustav Jung, merely reflections of their own personality.23 For this reason, modern astrologers like Thomas Ring (see below) regard the position of the stars that is the horoscope as a way to understand the structure of a person or event. These astrologers assume that the ‘stargods’ are projections of psychic images from ‘below’ onto the ‘above’. This is in some respects plausible; however, what remains less plausible is how the other way round—a ‘re-reading’—can be explained: a reading from the stars back onto the human.

21

Alice Ann Bailey, Esoteric Astrology (Geneve: Lucis Trust, 1979), 5-6. Carl-Gustav Jung, Über die Archetypen des kollektiven Unbewussten, Vol. 9/1: Die Archetypen und das kollektive Unbewusste, ed. Lilly Jung-Merker (Olten: Walter, 1983), 13–17. 23 Thomas Ring, Astrologie ohne Aberglauben (Wien: Econ, 1972), 14. 22

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Thomas Ring The German astrologer Thomas Ring (1892-1983), one of the founders of psychological astrology, attempted to formulate a new explanation appropriate to the present. The ‘star-gods’ of antiquity are for him “Prinzipien des organischen Seins” (principles of the organic being) or “Ganzheitskräfte, allem Lebenden gemeinsam” (whole forces, all living things together).24 (Translated by the author). What he means is that there are living forces within nature and the cosmos which connect cosmos and human with one another. With this, however, psychological astrology is again very close to the ancient and theosophical star religion. These ‘living principles’, which connect everything to everything else, are not very different to the traditional worldview of astrology with its ‘star-gods’ and the ‘ether’ or ‘world-soul’. To return to the question of ‘what is possible?’: in the context of a religious interpretation of nature and the cosmos, astrology is itself plausible. Its internal logic rests upon belief in the existence of divine beings and forces without this internal logic having evidential value (this applies to all religious teachings).

4. Astrology and its religious perspective In conclusion, we return to the question of the exact place of astrology in relation to an adequate notion of religion. Astrology cannot be a science, but it is also not a failed science. As a religious interpretation of nature and the cosmos it is a cultural achievement in the same way that all religions are a cultural achievement. Today, it is perhaps difficult for astrology to be recognized as a teaching and a practice with a religious worldview and intention and as such be taken seriously in scientific context. This has to do with its image as unfounded superstition, which, by the way, can be applied to any system of beliefs.

24 Thomas Ring, Astrologische Menschenkunde, Vol. I (Freiburg/Br.: Hermann Bauer, 1990), 3.

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Contingency If the concept of ‘religion’ is tied to a problem of contingency, as frequently represented in social sciences and philosophy as well, the following situation occurs:25 Firstly, experience of contingency means that we as humans experience life, existence, as random, as fate, as inaccessible. Birth and death come unbidden and also many questions: why am I living right now, in the 21st century, at this latitude and longitude, in Europe (why not in Africa?); why in this social milieu born to these parents, with both happiness and suffering? This is what is known as the experience of contingency or the problem of contingency. To ask these questions is to question the meaning of these occurrences. Those who seek meaning outside of the horizon of experience seek a transcendent meaning. An answer from outside is then a religious answer, which becomes religion when it takes on fixed cultural forms. Astrology engages exactly with these key points in the experience of contingency. The question of why something happens when it does, why this latitude and longitude, this city, home, environment—these are all key data for astrology. The whole semantics of astrology, with its creation of horoscopes, aim to understand the meaning of this data ‘from another being’ on the other side of the empirical border. Like other religions and religious interpretations of life and the world, astrology is thus a religious system developed in order to cope with the experience of contingency. The degree to which it is successful, coupled with the question of whether astrology is true or not, is, speaking from a scientific perspective, on the same level as the question as to whether Buddhism, Christianity or any other belief leads to redemption or not, or whether it is ‘true’ or not.

25 From medieval scholastic philosophy up to present contingency has been understood as the experience of the random in contrast to the experience of the human existence as necessity. Cf. ‘Evidence’ in: Enzyklopädie Philosophie und Wissenschaft, ed. Jürgen Mittelstrass, Vol. 1: A-G (Stuttgart: Metzler 1995), 609. Cf. the philosophical meaning of contingency in the text in Kurt Wuchterl, Philosophie und Religion. Zur Aktualität der Religionsphilosophie (Stuttgart: Haupt, 1982), 30; Detlef Pollack, ‘Was ist Religion? Probleme der Definition’, in ZfR (Zeitschrift für Religionswissenschaft) 95/2: 184; Niklas Luhmann, Die Religion der Gesellschaft (Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp, 2000), 15, 47, 53, 147, 150).

PART THREE TIME: CALENDARS AND TRANSMISSION

CHAPTER TEN THE MEANING OF TIME: MESOPOTAMIAN CALENDAR DIVINATION1 ULLA SUSANNE KOCH

Abstract Time is elusive, impossible to fathom and yet somehow also measurable, and takes on a significance simply by being subdivided into units based on observation of celestial phenomena. Calendar divination is probably the most pervasive and viable of all divination genres. Today, year numbers are routinely used to predict disaster, whether cataclysmic or merely digital—like the millennium bug which fortunately never hatched. In Mesopotamian divination, the calendar date of an occurrence was frequently used as a parameter in astrology. The months and days themselves, the units of the calendar, were used as a predictive tool. Days and months were categorized as favourable and unfavourable, and particular dates were deemed suited or not suited for particular purposes such as building a house, digging a well, making a sacrifice, eating leeks, or taking a wife. The texts concerned with the nature of days and months are attested from the middle of the 2nd millennium BCE and continued to be copied into the late first millennium BCE in Seleucid Uruk. The traditions of the hemerologies were transmitted in Hellenistic astrology, and the traditions survived in Europe in popular almanacs and the work of astronomers like the Danish Tycho Brahe. This paper will attempt to follow their trail.

In the following, I will try to demonstrate that the interpretation of the meaning of time in Mesopotamia changed from a general perception of time as a thing with inherent characteristics to a form of calendar divination closely dependent on an ideal calendar and on celestial phenomena (with all their religious and other cultural specific connotations) to a form of

1

My participation in the conference was made possible by a grant from the Center for Canon and Identity Formation of the University of Copenhagen.

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universally applicable divination.2 This final form was primarily based on astrological principles and concepts, and may have blended easily into the Hellenistic cauldron, but it was still deeply rooted in the centuries-old almanac and mythology. This change in the meaning of time was not evolutional, rather the concept and its uses grew like a tree, new layers of meaning encapsulating, but not replacing, those which came before. Calendar divination can be defined as any form of artificial divination that uses the calendar as its medium. Artificial divination relies on the observation and manipulation of symbolic systems.3 The diviner operates schemata and hermeneutic rules, sometimes so intricate that they, in theory at least, allow the bias of the diviner little scope for influencing the outcome. The validity of all kinds of divination rests entirely on the diviner being perceived as neutral; the message should not be his, but stem from sources over which the individual has no control. All forms of artificial divination, no matter what is used as a medium, are based on human constructions. When natural phenomena are observed, both the observation itself, the sign or signs, and the interpretation thereof are based on preconceived ideas and norms. For instance, the Babylonian astrologer would only look for phenomena already known to him as significant, or which fell within a preconceived pattern. If he made an 2

When speaking of the ‘meaning of time’ it must be kept in mind that there were no Sumerian or Akkadian words for ‘time’ as an abstract concept. Just as Old Testament Hebrew, Akkadian had no equivalent to the Greek ȤȡȩȞȠȢ, or the Latin tempus. The Akkadian term adannu meant a ‘fixed date/time’ or a ‘fixed period’, simƗnu meant the ‘right date/time’ or the ‘right period’, but neither of these terms had the connotations of the Greek țĮȚȡȩȢ, opportune moment. There were plenty of Sumerian and Akkadian terms for specific units of time: Day (UD/njmu), year (MU/šattu), month (ITI/ar‫ې‬u), double-hour (bƯru), the watches of day and night; and of course terms for the two main seasons (summer, winter) and for the times of day (morning, night). There are also terms to describe relative points on a time line: the past could be described as the ‘old’ days, whereas the term ‘distant days’ could either refer to days in the distant past or in the distant future. Also, there was no lack of calendric schemata and systems for keeping track of the passing years. The word for ‘day’ had to some extent to serve an all-round purpose. 3 Typologies of divination abound. I follow in the footsteps of Plato and Cicero and define ‘oracle’ as an answer to a question (e.g., heads-or-tails), and an ‘omen’ as a perceived message, which is not an answer to a specific question (e.g., spilt salt). ‘Artificial’ divination is based on the interpretation and manipulation of complex systems (e.g., astrology), whereas ‘natural’ divination is immediately intelligible. Plato, Phaedrus 244; see also M. A. Flower, The Seer in Ancient Greece (Berkeley, Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2008), 84-91; Cicero, De Divinatione; see also e.g. Giovanni Manetti, Theories of the sign in classical antiquity (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993), 19.

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observation which fell outside the scope of astrology, he would dismiss it as irrelevant.4 A cultural system, as a calendar is, should be the ideal vehicle for divination, since it comes fully-fledged with inherent qualities derived from its defining elements, names, numbers and regulations, all of which are culturally significant. Though calendars are often based on the observation of celestial phenomena, there is no naturally given calendar or method of time reckoning to which we must all subscribe, as anyone familiar with the basics of astronomy is well aware. Nevertheless, humans have a tendency to perceive of calendars exactly thus, as something absolute rather than purely conceptual. The calendar thus often takes on a life of its own: it becomes more than a practical indexing and measuring tool of human life, it functions in its own right as a guide to action, a confirmation of decisions, or regulation of behaviour; in other words, it becomes the basis of divination. Calendar divination can with some right be viewed as a form of celestial divination, since most calendars are based on the periodicity of celestial phenomena, and indeed many modern forms of calendar divination have close links with astrology.5 Calendar divination is one of the oldest known forms of celestial divination and also one of the most pervasive and viable of all divination genres. It is found in ancient and modern societies in a variety of forms, from the simple isolated superstition to complex and intricate systems mastered only by specialists.6 No more than a hundred years ago, almanacs charting

4

See for instance the letter from an Assyrian astrologer, Simo Parpola, Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars (SAA 10) (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1993), No. 8. 5 Complex astrological calendar divination is practiced today, for instance in Japan, see Sensei Hidekazu, ‘On Cognitive Aspects of Rhetorical Time Reckoning: Metaphor and Image-Schema in the Calendrical Divination in Okinawa’, Asian Folklore Studies 62 (2003): 291-321; and Mongolia, see B. G. Baumann, Divine Knowledge: Buddhist Mathematics According to the Anonymous Manual of Mongolian Astrology and Divination (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2008). 6 Friday the 13th is of course just one modern example of time becoming imbued with meaning simply by being defined by calendric metrics. Recent studies have shown that Friday the 13th is the most popular modern superstition, and that it actually influences behaviour to such an extent that it can be measured in statistics. British researchers undertook a study over some years of the amount of traffic and traffic accidents on Fridays the 13th and Fridays the 6th,, respectively. The study showed a significant increase in automobile accidents on the M25 on the 13th as compared to the 6th, even though more people avoided making any unnecessary trips. See T. J. Scanlon, Robert N. Luben, F. L. Scanlon, and Nicola Singleton, ‘Is

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favourable and unfavourable days of each year were common household items in Scandinavia, and a quick survey of this vast genre in western European history leaves one with an impression of a surprisingly homogenous phenomenon.7 Despite the many differences in details, the fundamental similarities with Mesopotamian calendar divination texts also remain striking. As always with cultural (and biological) phenomena that appear to us similar in form or function, the question is whether the similarities are caused by an internal genetic relationship or whether the similarities are caused by external, generic factors. But it is often very difficult to determine whether we are dealing with convergent evolution or cultural transmission.8 It has become an Assyriological commonplace to assert that it is too early days yet to attempt a history of religion or mentality of the civilizations of ancient Mesopotamia. One of the very sound reasons for this point of view is that the sources are still too few and far between, and many of those which are available still remain unpublished; much spadework (both in the field and at the desk) remains to be done. Another valid point is that the Mesopotamian civilizations revered their written traditions, so concepts and beliefs echo over the millennia, but this Friday the 13th bad for your health? (Risk of accidents on Friday the 13th)’, British Medical Journal (1993): 307-1584. 7 The Swedish ‘Olykcsdagar’, which were part of the so-called ‘bondepraktik’ well into the 20th century, were probably ultimately derived from the medieval ‘dies mali’. Axel Nelson, ‘Om den Svenska Bondepraktikans Ursprung’, Nordisk tidskrift för bok- och biblioteksväsen 1934, http://runeberg.org/bokobibl/1934/0063.html (accessed January 2013). Medieval almanacs are themselves a vast topic. A large number of medieval calendar manuscripts have been edited, see, e.g., László Sándor Chardonnens, Anglo-Saxon Prognostics, 900-1100. Study and Texts (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2007), for texts from Britain and for further references. The topic of early modern almanacs is equally vast, alone for the fact that almanacs were rivalled in popularity only by the Bible. It has however not received much scholarly attention, see, e.g., Alison A. Chapman, ‘Marking Time: Astrology, Almanacs and English Protestantism’, Renaissance Quarterly 60 (2007): 1257-90. 8 Ever since the first cuneiform divination texts were published and translated, interest has centred on their relation to classical and Hellenistic divination, especially astrology. A number of recent studies have identified several individual elements of Hellenistic and later astrology that probably can be traced back to specific Babylonian traditions, cf. especially the studies by F. Rochberg, In the Path of the Moon. Babylonian Celestial Divination and Its Legacy (Studies in Ancient Magic and Divination Vol. 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2010). Most of these elements are themselves first attested in Babylonian sources from the 4th century BCE, and were thus relatively late developments in Babylonian divination.

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apparent continuity of ideas and themes probably is deceptive, and obscures changes in mentality and ideology which we are hard put to uncover today. These points are certainly true also of Mesopotamian calendar divination. Still, it is possible to trace Mesopotamian divination more or less closely over the course of more than two millennia, during which it underwent changes in use and significance, and Mesopotamian calendar divination, which changed not only in content but also in scope.

The Calendar9 In the third and early second millennium BCE the different Mesopotamian city-states had their own cultic calendars, but they were all based on observations of the lunar cycle. Seasonal rites were accorded dates in the lunar-based calendars, which were regularly intercalated to prevent them from circling the year. A normal year held 12 lunar months, that is about 354 days, which is a little more than 11 days shorter than the solar year. In order to keep the months synchronized with the seasons, an intercalary month therefore had to be added regularly. Most of the month names referred to local cultic events. A number of days every month were devoted to the cult of local deities, but in all the cultic calendars, dates associated with the lunar cycle played a special role: 1st (new moon), 7th (waxing half-moon), 14th/15th (full moon), 21st (waning half-moon) and 28th (conjunction between the moon and the sun). The day began in the evening at sunset, and the new month began at sunset with the first sighting of the lunar crescent. A month could either be hollow, 29 days, or full, 30 days, depending on when the Moon was first observed. There is evidence for administrative schematic calendars (twelve months with 30 days each), which existed side by side with the cultic calendars. The administrative calendars were used by the offices of the great public institutions, temple and palace, and there is no indication from the 3rd millennium that these calendars were used for anything but keeping accounts. Late in the Old Babylonian period (ca. 1730 BCE) the local calendar of Nippur became the Mesopotamian standard calendar; local variations persisted but eventually this calendar prevailed. From this period on, this was also the calendar used for calendar divination. In the first millennium 9

For an introduction to the regulation of Mesopotamian calendars, see J. M. Steele, ‘Making Sense of Time’, in Karen Radner and Eleanor Robson, eds., The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 470-485. For a survey of the cultic calendars, see Mark E. Cohen, The Cultic Calendars of the Ancient Near East (Bethesda, Maryland: CDL Press, 1993).

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BCE, the 12 normal months of the Babylonian calendar were: Nisannu, AjjƗru, SimƗnu, Du’njzu, Abu, Elnjlu, TašrƯtu, Araপsamnu, KislƯmu, ৫ebƝtu, ŠabƗtu, Addaru. Nisannu (I), Elnjlu (VI) and AddƗru (XII) could all be repeated as an intercalary month. This month would then be called for example ‘extra’ (atru) Nisannu’, or ‘later’ (arkû) AddƗru’. The year itself began close to vernal equinox, and simple rules of intercalation from the astronomical compendium ‘MUL.APIN’ were based on the relative position of the Pleiades and the Moon around the vernal equinox.10 Until the Seleucid Era, years were named for important events, after a special official appointed each year (eponym), or counted from the accession year of the individual king. The decision whether to intercalate was often made quite late and had consequences both for the performance of rituals in the public cult which followed the calendar and for secular matters such as taxation.11 The 2nd and 1st millennium calendar divination texts (almanacs and calendar omens) operated with an ‘ideal calendar’ of 12 months with 30 days each, like the 3rd millennium administrative calendars, and often added information on one or more intercalary months. For divination, the ideal calendar served as the ‘normal’ appearance of the time as an observable phenomenon. As with all forms of Babylonian divination, accordance and deviation from the ‘normal’ appearance of a phenomenon used for divination was potentially significant, and it was scrupulously observed and interpreted according to the divination manuals. The sources for calendar divination from the cultures of ancient Mesopotamia can be found within a number of textual genres, and in different languages, in the different periods (see Table 1). The sources are of course very different in nature as well as in number.

10

Hermann Hunger and David Pingree, MUL.APIN. An Astronomical Compendium in Cuneiform. Archiv für Orientforschung Beiheft 24 (Horn: Verlag Ferdinand Berger und Söhne, 1989). 11 As attested to for instance in two letters to the Neo-Assyrian king, Simo Parpola, Letters (SAA 10), Nos. 44 and 357.

The Meaning of Time: Mesopotamian Calendar Divination Period Early Dynastic (Fara) Ca. 2500-2300 BCE Ur III and Isin dynasties Ca. 2025-1763 BCE Old Babylonian Ca. 2000-1600 BCE

Middle Babylonian Ca. 1600-1000 BCE

Genre Incantations

Language Sumerian

Court poetry: Hymns and praises to gods and kings. Literary mythological texts Proverb Royal hemerology (7th day of 7th month) Calendar omens Astrological omens (calendric) Letters Royal hemerology (7th day of 7th month) ‘The Babylonian Almanac’ Thematic hemerologies Literary menology Calendar omens (iqqur Ưpuš) Astrological omens (Ennjma Anu Enlil) Literary texts

Sumerian

Neo Assyrian and Neo Babylonian Ca. 1000-539 BCE

‘The Babylonian Almanac’ Literary menology Proscriptive hemerologies The Royal hemerology (Inbu bƝl ar‫ې‬i) Apotropaic hemerologies Calendar omens (iqqur Ưpuš) Astrological omens (calendric) Letters and reports Royal inscriptions Rituals Literary texts

Late Babylonian Ca. 539-150 BCE

‘The Babylonian Almanac’ Thematic hemerologies Zodiacal compilation texts ‘Kalender-texte’ ‘Horoscopes’

Sumerian Sumerian Sumerian Akkadian Akkadian Akkadian SumerianAkkadian Akkadian Akkadian, Hittite SumerianAkkadian Akkadian, Hittite, Akkadian, Hittite Akkadian Akkadian SumerianAkkadian Akkadian Akkadian Akkadian Akkadian Akkadian Akkadian Akkadian SumerianAkkadian Akkadian Akkadian Akkadian Akkadian (Aramaic?) Akkadian (Aramaic?) Akkadian (Greek? and Aramaic?)

Table 1: Sources for Mesopotamian interpretation of the meaning of time.

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Sumerian Sources for a Reified Concept of Time Among the very oldest indications that units of time were more than just metrics, are references in incantations from the Fara period to ‘night’ as an intentional agent, which can be made to go away by a spell.12 Attributing characteristics to day and night, and even to hours and minutes, is a practice that continued up until the latest periods of Mesopotamian culture, and which lived on in Mandean incantations. While this is not divination, it is certainly a reification of time, which is part and parcel of calendar divination. The earliest indications of calendar divination, in the form of choosing a certain day because of its inherent qualities, are attested in the court poetry of the third dynasty of Ur and of its cultural heirs, the kings of the first dynasty of Isin.13 In hymns praising gods and kings, reference was made to ‘favourable’ days, particularly days on which the gods selected to act: After the storm ……, and the month had been completed (?) for me, the god Enlil chose me by extispicy on a day very favourable for him. He spoke fairly to Sumer, and caused me to arise (?) from my family (?).14

This poem is attributed to the king Ur-Namma (ca. 2112-2095 BCE) of the third dynasty of Ur. Enlil selected a ‘favourable’ day to appoint him. Also the goddess Inana knew when to act:

12

See A. Livingstone, ‘The Magic of Time’, in T. Abusch and K. van der Toorn, eds., Mesopotamian magic: textual, historical, and interpretative perspectives (Groningen: Styx, 1999), 131-137. 13 With the exception of a couple of texts which appear to be translations from Akkadian, or late compositions rather than original Sumerian literature, there are no Sumerian technical divination texts. The classical study of the Sumerian sources for divination is A. Falkenstein, ‘Wahrsagung in der sumerischen Überlieferung’, in La divination en Mésopotamie ancienne et dans les régions voisines - Travaux du Centre d'études supérieures spécialisé d'histoire des religions de Strasbourg (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1966), 45-68. Translations of pertinent texts can be found in W. H. Ph. Römer, ‘Zukunftsdeutungen in sumerischen Texten’, in Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments 2 (Gütersloher Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn,1986), 17-55. 14 ’ den-lil2-le /ud\dug3-dug3-ga-na maš2-e /bi2-in\-pad3-de3-en’, line 58 of ‘A praise poem of Ur-Namma’. Transliteration and translation can be found online at The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub UrNamma c.2.4.1.3.

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Your actions are very great, and there is no god to rival you. You fetched your divine powers on a favourable day, and none of them escaped you. You have secured the kingship, and nothing escapes from your hand. You have equal rank with the king An, and you decide destinies with him.15

The passage is from a hymn to Inana composed for Ur-Ninurta (19231896 BCE), 6th king of the first dynasty of Isin, who also had a hymn written to the storm god Iškur: Iškur organised everything; he …… the harvest and the superior barley. He heaped up grain piles and grain stores in the fields for Ur-Ninurta. On a favourable day he sowed the seeds, he …… the wheat.16

The moon god here called ‘the white one, who walks alone’ (Ašimbabbar), also knew the importance of choosing the right day: First-born son of Enlil, where have you tended the people, Lord Ašimbabbar? In a place founded on a good day and given a good name, in the place chosen in my heart, my E-mud-kura (‘House, creator of the land’, Nanna’s cella in Ur), I, Ašimbabbar, have tended my cows. First-born son of Enlil, where have you tended the people, Lord Ašimbabbar? In a place founded on a good day and given a good name, in the place chosen in my heart, my E-mud-kura, I, Ašimbabbar, have tended my cows.17

The king Enlil-bani is said to act in a good month:

15 An adab-hymn to Inana for Ur-Ninurta, line 8 reads: ‘me-zuudsilim-ma-biba-ede6niƣ2-namla-ba-e-da-šub’. Translation and transliteration of the hymn can be found online at The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub Ur-Ninurta D: c.2.5.6.4. 16 An adab-hymn to Iškur for Ur-Ninurta, line 8 reads: ‘ud dug3-ga numun-bi muni-in-sig10 gig2-ga.’ Translation and transliteration of the hymn can be found online at The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub Ur-Ninurta F: c.2.5.6.6. 17 A tigi-hymn to the moon god Suen, lines 26-30 read: ‘ud dug3-ga [ki ƣar-ra mu dug3-ga] sa4-a daš-im2-[babbar-me-en] [ki šag4]-ge pad3-da-ƣu10e2-mud-[kur]-ra[ƣu10] ab2-ƣu10 ba-ši-in-ludumu-saƣ den-lil2-la2 uƣ3 me-a mu-u8-lu en daš-im2babbar ud dug3-ga ki ƣar-ra mu [dug3]-ga sa4-a’. Translation and transliteration of the hymn can be found on-line at The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub ‘Nanna I’: c.4.13.09.

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Chapter Ten Enlil-bƗni, you are the king who (…..) in a good month, in a year of abundance, on a day of celebration and the elevation of the king, you are exalted.18

The Sumerian terms used for ‘favourable day’ (‘ud dug3-ga’ or ‘ud silimma’) are the same as were used in the later Babylonian almanacs to define days which were generally favourable or suited for various specific undertakings. The passage quoted above uses the Sumerian term ‘sa9’, which means ‘to be good’, but which was never used as a technical term in the later almanacs. In and by themselves, the quoted passages of course are rather weak, and perhaps the ‘good/favourable day’ should be understood loosely as ‘a good day for it’, or a day which fitted into the busy schedule of the gods. However, it is tempting to see the similarity in terminology with the later almanacs as an indication that calendar days were perceived to have different inherent characteristics, which were to be taken into consideration when selecting and installing a king, building a sanctuary, sowing, and assuming dominion over the gods. Most of the literary mythological works composed in Sumerian are today primarily known from manuscripts which were produced during the Old Babylonian Period. Rarely, the manuscripts of these compositions, which, with few exceptions, have typically survived in an average of ten to fifty but in some instances as many as 200 duplicates, contain completely identical versions of the same text. The Sumerian literary compositions probably go back to the 3rd millennium, but since there are no manuscripts actually produced in the 3rd millennium, it is of course impossible to say with certainty whether the concepts and mentality they express actually are Sumerian, or whether they reflect Old Babylonian concepts. The belief that certain days have ‘favourable’ qualities for a given undertaking is also present in the literary compositions. For instance in the epic about the story about a king, commonly known as ‘Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta’: Built in magnificence with all the great powers, lustrous mount founded on a favourable day, like moonlight coming up over the land, like bright sunlight radiating over the land….19 18

A praise poem of Enlil-bani, line 171 reads: ‘[itid] sag9 mu he2-jal2-la’, The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub ‘Enlilbani A’: c.2.5.8.1. 19 ‘Enmekar and En-suপgir-ana’, lines 6-7 reads: ‘me gal-[gal] nam-nun-na du3-a kur sikil-la ud dug3-ga ki ƣar-ra’. For transliteration and translation of the full text see The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub ‘Enmekar and En-suপgir-ana’, c.1.8.2.4.

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A lamentation for the destruction of the city of Nippur contains a number of references to days, which the supreme god Enlil had fixed as favourable for rebuilding the city. However, in this context, ‘day’ should probably be understood as ‘point in time’, and was not perceived as having special characteristics. The ‘good day’ is mentioned to stress that Enlil not only wanted the city and its kingship restored, he had also decided when, for instance: Now see! Enlil has fixed a good day in the land! He has even now ordered the day for Nibru to raise its neck to heaven! He himself has provided a good day for the E-kur to shine! He himself has raised up the day for the Ki-ur's magnificent manifestation! He himself has restored the day for Sumer and Akkad to expand! He himself has set aside the day for houses to be built and storerooms to be enclosed! He himself has brought out the day for seeds to sprout and living things to be born! He has brought out the day for building cattle pens and founding sheepfolds!20

The term used is ‘ud zid’ which perhaps should rather be translated ‘the right day’. Later in the poem, the ‘day for decreeing of fates’ is mentioned.21 This could very well be a reference to a calendar date in the cultic calendar. Otherwise, when these Sumerian literary works mention the calendar, days and months, it is mostly to describe how time itself and the calendar were created as part of the world order by the god of wisdom, Enki: Counting the days and putting the months in their houses, so as to complete the years and to submit the completed years to the assembly for a decision, taking decisions to regularise the days.22

20

‘The lament for Nibru’, lines 247-254 read: ‘i3-ne-eš2 a2-še den-lil2-le ud zid kalam-ma bi2-in-gub-ba-am3ud nibruki gu2 an-še3 zi-zi i3-ne-eš2 im-mi-in-dug4gaud zid e2-kur-ra saƣ mu2-mu2 e-ne im-mi-in-tuku-a ud ki-ur3-ra dalla maপ e3-a ene im-mi-in-zig3-ga ud ki-en-gi ki-uri daƣal-e e-ne im-mi-in-gi4-a ud e2 du3-du3 ƣa2-nun niƣin2-e e-ne ib2-ta-an-mar-ra ud numun i-i niƣ2-zi-ƣal2 u3-tud e-ne ib2-taan-e3-a ud tur3 du3-du3 amaš ki ƣa2-ƣa2 e-ne ib2-ta-an-e3-a’. For transliteration and translation of the full text, see The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub c.2.2.4 21 Lines 315-322, see The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub c.2.2.4. 22 From the composition ‘Enki and the World Order’, lines 17-18, see The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub ‘Enki and the world order’: c.1.1.3.

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Time is always high on the to-do list for world creators. The poem about the sky god An and his precocious daughter Inana describes how the seasonal variation in daylight came to be. Exactly how Inana caused the length of daytime to grow and wane between the equinoxes is unfortunately not preserved, but her father declares it to be so: Having heard those words, An slapped his thighs in ……, his voice filled with sighs of grief: ‘What has my child done? She has become greater than me! What has Inana done? She has become greater than me! From now on, the normal length of daylight becomes shorter, and daylight converts to night-time. From today, when the day’s watch is three units long, daylight is equal to night-time.’ And now, when day began, it was indeed so.23

A single Sumerian proverb, preserved in an Old Babylonian proverb collection, could be a reference to specific taboos associated with specific months: “In the seventh month he did not slaughter (?) a pig. In the sixth month he did not put on a new turban”.24 The Sumerian proverbs are enigmatic and we cannot be certain they refer to almanac practice, but the proverb could be a reference to religious injunctions against certain actions in certain months, as attested in the Middle Babylonian period, and perhaps also in the Old Babylonian period (see below). These are indications, however meagre, that the calendar and time itself was imbued with meaning, that days could be chosen based on their significance and that there were rules, which guided behaviour like the later almanacs.

Calendar Divination: The Babylonian Almanac and Omen Traditions The Mesopotamian technical calendar divination texts may be divided into three major categories:25

23

From the composition ‘Inana and An’, lines 39-45, see The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/) sub ‘Inana and An’: c.1.1.5. 24 The Sumerian proverb collections are published by Bendt Alster, Proverbs of Ancient Sumer I-II (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 1997). The proverb stems from proverbs collection 1 No. 172; see also The Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/etcsl.cgi?text=c.6.1*#). 25 There are other classifications of texts relating to calendar divination, see, e.g., Réne Labat, ‘Hemerologien’, Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie 4 (1972-75): 317-23.

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x Almanacs (hemerologies and menologies), which are concerned with the nature of individual dates, whether days or months, and as a minimum list favourable days. They may also include prognostications, rituals and injunctions. x Calendar omens, where the significance of actions and occurrences is described in omen format, either arranged according to phenomenon/activity or according to month. Calendar omens were collected in the standard series Šumma Iqqur Ưpuš. x Literary menologies, which deal with general characteristics of each month, such as: associated celestial bodies and gods, religious and/or mundane events that took place in that month, the divine ruler of the month, and other mythological and mystical significance of the months.26

In Akkadian, the almanacs were known as uttukku, ’Favourable Days’ (written ud.meš dug3.ga or syllabically ú-tuk-ku) or abšegeda, ‘favourable’.27 Calendar omens and almanacs were sometimes collectively referred to simply as biblƗni, ‘portables’, in a meaning similar to the modern term ‘manual’.28 Different kinds of calendar divination texts could be combined on the same manuscript, for instance calendar omens could be combined with one or more versions of the almanac, or full almanacs could be combined with lists of favourable days.29 The combination of calendar omens with lists of favourable days and other almanacs, which is attested already in the Emar texts, demonstrates the very close relationship between the two genres. In one manuscript, such a compilation is described as: ‘Favourable days for doing what one wants, or on which any one may attain ones wish: favourable’, together with 25 lines of

26

These are quite rare and will not be dealt with here, see Wayne Horowitz, ‘VAT 17081: A Forerunner to the Menology of Astrolabe B’, in S. Dönmez, ed., DUB.SAR. É.DUB.BA Studies Presented in Honour of Veysel Donbaz (Istanbul: Edge Publications, 2010), 183-188. 27 The term ‘ab.še.ge.da’, ‘favourable’, refers to an almanac, see Steven Cole and Peter Machinist, Letters from Priests to the Kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal (SAA 13) (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1998) No. 12; Erica Reiner (‘Fortune Telling in Mesopotamia’, in Journal of Near Eastern Studies 19, 1960: 23-35) noted the parallel to the Roman term fasti (originally ‘law’ days) as a cover term for calendars and almanacs, especially concerning religious and public events. 28 In Parpola, Letters (SAA 10) No. 6 r11, ‘biblƗnu’ clearly refers to the Babylonian Almanac or the Offering Bread Hemerology. Since the line quotes a passage concerning the 15th day, biblƗnu cannot mean ‘omens referring to the new Moon’. 29 E.g., D. J. Wiseman and J. A. Black, Literary Texts from the Temple of Nabû (CTN 4) (Oxford: British School of Archaeology in Iraq, 1996), Nos. 56-57.

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commentary on it. Extracts from ‘If he destroys and builds (Šumma iqqur Ưpuš)’ based on many tablets…’30 Actual technical almanacs and divination texts are first attested in the Old Babylonian period. The earliest preserved manuscripts of calendar texts are two fragments of bilingual hemerologies written in phonetic Sumerian and Akkadian.31 They are prescriptive almanacs, which list actions to be taken or avoided. One (H 83) is a royal hemerology. It describes rituals the king should perform and actions he should avoid on the 7th day of the 7th month, the month of TašrƯtu. A similar bilingual text is attested from the middle Babylonian period from Dur-Kurigalzu,32 which is however extended to cover all the first seven days of TašrƯtu.33 The first seven days of TašrƯtu continued to be especially significant, and were hedged with injunctions also in the 1st millennium almanacs.34 The 7th day was especially important and is sometimes called sebnjt sebîm, the seventh of the seventh.35 One of the categories applied to calendars are of course numbers, and numbers, though thoroughly abstract, also acquire generic associations and cultural specific significance. The first and seventh months, both associated with the deciding of destinies, were particularly laden with meaning.36 According to recent psychological research, some number associations may even be universal. For instance, for some unexplained reason people tend to perceive some of the numbers 30

K 98 + MS 2226. A photo of K 98 is published online on Cuneiform Digital Library (CDLI) sub P393756. MS 2226 is now in the Schøyen Collection. Photograph of the obverse is published: http://www.schoyencollection.com/calendars_files/ms2226.jpg. 31 They were found in a private house in the city of Meturan together with other library texts. A. Cavigneaux and F. al-Rawi, ‘New Sumerian Literary Texts from Tell Haddad (Ancient Meturan): A First Survey’, Iraq 55 (1993): 91-105. 32 IM 50964, see O. R. Gurney, ‘Further Texts from Dur-Kurigalzu’, Sumer 9 (1953): 21-34. 33 Rene Labat, ‘Hemerologien’, in Reallexikon der Assyriologieund Vorderasiatische Archäologie 4 (1972-75): 320. 34 Erich Ebeling, Keilschrifttexte aus Assur religiösen Inhalts (KAR) (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1915-1923), No. 147; D. J. Wiseman and J. A. Black, Literary Texts (CTN 4), No. 5 8. 35 Cohen, Cultic Calendars, 391. 36 For studies of the significance of individual months according to different Mesopotamian calendars, see Stephen Langdon, Babylonian menologies and the Semitic calendars (London: Published for the British Academy by Oxford University Press, 1935); Benno Landsberger, Der kultische Kalender der Babylonier und Assyrer (Leipziger Semitische Studien) (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung, 1915); and Cohen, Cultic Calendars.

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belonging to the category ‘odd number’ as more odd than others. ‘7’ is such a prototypical odd number.37 Seven also had magical significance outside of the almanacs. One late Old Babylonian love-spell, for example, mentions seven and seven clay pellets to be put between a woman’s breasts to make her amorous,38 and potency rituals required certain spells to be repeated 7 times.39 The other Old Babylonian hemerological manuscript from Meturan (H 77)40 contains a list of mainly dietary rules warning against particular foodstuffs, but it also lists injunctions against certain actions, such as quarrelling and cloth-making. The manuscript is broken and no calendar dates are preserved. It may conceivably not have been hemerological at all, but the similarities with the later prescriptive almanacs are striking. From the Middle Babylonian period onwards all the main genres of both almanacs and calendar omens are attested. The manuscripts from the second half of the 2nd millennium BCE represent a tradition which had not yet stabilized, as it would in the 1st millennium. Along with other Mesopotamian learning, almanacs and calendar omens were avidly studied by the neighbouring cultures. Indeed, some of the best sources for Mesopotamian divination from the Middle Babylonian period stem from ঩attuša, Emar, Ugarit and Elam.41

37

Ilkka Pyysiainen, ‘Religion and the Counter-intuitive’, in Veikko Anttonen and Ilkka Pyysiainen, eds., Current Approaches in the Cognitive Science of Religion (London: Continuum, 2002), 110-132, 126. 38 Nathan Wasserman, ‘From the Notebook of a Professional Exorcist’, in Dahlia Shehata, F. Weiershäuser and Kamran V. Zand, eds., Von Göttern und Menschen. Beiträge zu Literatur und Geschichte des Alten Orients. Festschrift für Brigitte Groneberg (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2010), 329-349. 39 R. D. Biggs, ŠÀ.ZI.GA. Ancient Mesopotamian Potency Rituals (Locust Valley, NY: J. J. Augustin, 1967), 22-23. 40 A. Cavigneaux and F. al-Rawi, ‘New Sumerian Literary Texts from Tell Haddad (Ancient Meturan): A First Survey’, Iraq 55 (1993): 91-105. 41 For Hittite manuscripts see the on-line Catalogue des textes Hittites, sub no.546 at http://www.hethport.uni-wuerzburg.de/hetkonk/hetkonk_abfrage.php?c=546; see also the discussions by J. Fincke, ‘Zu den Akkadischen Hemerologien aud Hattusa (CTH 546), Teil 1, Eine Hemerologie für das ‘Rufen von Klagen’ (šigû šasû) und das ‘Reinigen seines Gewandes’ (šubƗt-su ubbubu) KUB 4, 46 (+) KUB 43, 1’, JCS 61 (2009): 111-25; and ‘Opferbrot-Hemerologien’, JCS 62 (2010): 127-45. The Manuscripts from Emar are published by D. Arnaud, Recherces au pays d’Aštata, Emar VI (Paris: Editions Recherche sur les Civilisations, 1985-87) Nos. 605-607, 610, 611, 615. For Ugarit see D. Arnaud, ‘Jours et mois d’Ougarit’ in Studi Micenei ed Egeo-Anatolici 32 (1993): 123-29.

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Almanacs The core almanac has been dubbed the ‘Babylonian Almanac’ by it first modern editor,42 and the text makes its first appearance in the Middle Babylonian period.43 Many of the later specialized almanacs were undoubtedly based on it.44 The Babylonian Almanac existed in full, abbreviated and excerpted versions, and even though there hardly ever is complete agreement between manuscripts (see Table 2), the tradition was very robust. This everyman’s almanac evidently enjoyed wide popularity and is known from manuscripts spread over place and time.45 The oldest example is a list of favourable days carved on a black stone amulet dating to the Middle Babylonian period,46 while the youngest examples stem from the Seleucid period.47 Perhaps the amulet shape was used to reinforce the significance of the favourable days? The backbone of the Babylonian Almanac was the classification of certain days of the year as either completely favourable (magir), partly favourable (mišil njmi magir), unfavourable (njl magir) or dangerous (lemnu). The technical terms for ‘favourable’ were: ud še, aš, še.ga, ab.še.ge.da, ud.dug3.ga, ma-gir, še-mu; for ‘unfavourable’: ud nu še, nu.un.še, nu.un, še.gi.da; and for dangerous: ud.পul.gál. Despite the many

42

After the edition by Réné Labat, ‘Un almanach babylonien (VR 48-49)’, Revue d’assyriologie et d’archeologie orientale 38 (1941): 13-40. 43 For Middle Babylonian and Assyrian forerunners see René Labat, ‘Un calendrier Cassite de Jours Fastes et Néfastes’, Sumer 8 (1952): 17-36, pl. 1-2 (IM 50969); L. Matouš, ‘L’Almanach de Bakr-Awa’, Sumer 17 (1961): 17-66, pl. 1-2; and Ebeling Keilschrifttexte (KAR), No. 177. 44 A. Livingstone, ‘The Use of Magic in the Assyrian and Babylonian Hemerologies and Menologies’, Studi Epigrafici e Linguistici sul Vicino Oriente Antico 15 (1998): 59-67. 45 First millennium manuscripts of the Babylonian Almanac are known from Nineveh, Nimrud, Assur, HuzirƯna, Sippar, and Uruk. Livingstone mentions a total of 63 ‘exemplars’, ‘The Babylonian Almanac: A Text for Specialists?’, B. Groneberg and H. Spieckermann, eds., Die Welt der Götterbilder (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 376 (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2007), 85-101. 46 The amulet is made of black stone and has a handle in the shape of a crouching lion with the text written perpendicular to the handle. It is now in the Schøyen Collection. A photograph of one side is published on-line at http://www.schoyencollection.com/calendars.html. 47 Babylonian Records in the Library of Pierpont Morgan, Vol. 4 No. 24.

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inconsistencies, the classification of days was relatively stable over the centuries of transmission. 48

Table 2, part 1: Favourable days of the first six months of the year according to the simple version of the Babylonian Almanac. Dates on which all sources agree are marked with bold.

48 See Labat’s list of favourable days according to the Babylonian Almanac (187611-17, 2389) compared to a Middle Assyrian, a Late Babylonian and an Elamite list, R. Labat, ’Un almanach babylonien (VR 48-49)’, Revue de Assyriologie 38 (1941): 13-40; cf. also L. Matouš, ‘L’Almanach de Bakr-Awa’, Sumer 17 (1961): 17-66, pl. 1-2.

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Table 2, part 2: Favourable days of the first six months of the year according to the simple version of the Babylonian Almanac. Dates on which all sources agree are marked with bold.

As demonstrated in Table 2, it is difficult to see a consistent pattern. Certainly the days associated with the lunar phases, new moon (1.), halfmoon waxing (6.-8.), full moon (13.-16.), half-moon waning (19-22) and invisibility (28-30) continued to have significance, as in the ancient cultic calendars, but the reason for the significance of many of dates still remains to be investigated. The days at the end of the lunar month, 28th – 30th, when the sun and the moon are in conjunction, were often considered dangerous (ud.পul, lemnu). It is specified in one almanac, that these days were special because the Sun-god, Šamaš, and the moon-god, Sin, sit in

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council, decreeing the destinies. However, dangerous days were not necessarily ill portending.49 The abbreviated versions of the Babylonian Almanac merely listed the favourable days of the month, either with the full text of the prognostication and prescription for the day, or merely summarized as magir.50 Both the full and the abbreviated versions were usually written in tabular format with a column dedicated to each month.

Table 3: Example from the Babylonian Almanac. 49

The 7th day of Nisannu II was for instance both an ‘ud še’ and an ‘ud.পul’, K 2514+, see Livingstone, ‘The Case of the Hemerologies: Official Cult, Learned Formulation and Popular Practice’, in E. Matsushima, ed., Official Cult and Popular Religion in the Ancient Near East. Papers of the First Colloquium on the Ancient Near East – The City and its Life held at the Middle Eastern Culture Center in Japan (Mitaka, Tokyo) March 20-22, 1992 (Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winter, 1993), 97-113, 101. 50 For examples see R. Labat, ‘Noveaux textes hémérologiques d’Assur’, Mitteilungen des Instituts für Orientforschung 5, 1957: 299-345; and L. Matouš, ‘L’Almanach de Bakr-Awa’, Sumer 17 (1961): 17-66, pl. 1-2 ( IM 63388).

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Apart from the general Babylonian Almanac, which was directed at anybody, there were other very specialized almanacs or hemerologies, as they are called in Assyriological terminology. For instance, a hemerology concerned primarily with instructions about when to present the gods with a bread offering.51 Some hemerologies were devoted to listing favourable and unfavourable days for specific ritual actions. All these are ritual acts which could be performed by private persons, so they were probably mainly directed at everyman, even though they sometimes refer specifically to actions the king should take. The ritual actions included performance of proskynesis (šukênu) for the gods in order in order to gain their assistance: the ‘Prostration Hemerology’,52 raising a cry for help to the gods (šigû šasû), and ritual cleaning of garments (‫܈‬ubatsu ubbubu).53 There were also hemerologies concerned with ritual actions to be undertaken in the event of ominous occurrences on specific dates. For instance, the ‘Eclipse Hemerology’ which prescribes actions to be taken or avoided by the king in case of a lunar eclipse occurring on the 12th, 13th or 14th day of the twelve normal months.54 Enbu bƝl ar‫ې‬i ‘Fruit (i.e. the Moon), lord of the Month’ was a specialized hemerology intended for the Assyrian king only. It is the longest hemerology and formed a small series 51 A Livingstone, ‘The Case of the Hemerologies: Official Cult, Learned Formulation and Popular Practice’, in E. Matsushima, ed., Official Cult and Popular Religion in the Ancient Near East. Papers of the First Colloquium on the Ancient Near East – The City and its Life held at the Middle Eastern Culture Center in Japan (Mitaka, Tokyo) March 20-22, 1992 (Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winther, 1993), 96-113; Maria C. Casaburi, Njme ܑƗbnjti ‘I Giorne Favorevoli’ (History of the Ancient Near East / Studies VIII) (Padova: S.a.r.g.o.n Editrice e Libreria, 2003); J. Fincke, ‘Opferbrot-Hemerologien’, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 62 (2010): 127-145. 52 See A. Livingstone, ‘How the common man influences the gods of Sumer’, in I. L. Finkel and M. J. Geller, eds., Sumerian Gods and Their Representations (Cuneiform Monographs 7) (Groningen: STYX, 1997), 215-20; and ‘The Babylonian Almanac: A Text for Specialists?’, in B. Groneberg and H. Spieckermann, eds., Die Welt der Götterbilder (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 376) (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2007), 85101. 53 See R. Labat, ‘Jours prescrits pour la confession des péchés’, Revue de Assyriologie 56 (1962): 1-8; and J. Fincke, ‘Zu den Akkadischen Hemerologien aud Hattusa (CTH 546), Teil 1. Eine Hemerologie für das ‘Rufen von Klagen’ (šigû šasû) und das ‘Reinigen seines Gewandes’ (šubƗt-su ubbubu) KUB 4, 46 (+) KUB 43, 1’, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 61 (2009): 111-252: 118. 54 Edition Ulla Koch-Westenholz, ‘Babylonian Views of Eclipses’, in R. Gyselen, ed., Démons et Merveilles d’Orient (Res Orientales 13) (Bures-sur-Yvette: Groupe pour l’étude de la civilisation du Moyen-Orient, 2001), 71-84.

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of 15 tablets with one tablet devoted to each of the twelve normal months and one to each of the three possible intercalary months.55 So far at least, Enbu bƝl ar‫ې‬i is known only from manuscripts from Nineveh, and it may thus be a product of the scholars at the Neo-Assyrian court.

Calendar Omens The calendar omen series had the somewhat obscure name: Šumma iqqur Ưpuš (‘diš iq-qur dù-uš’), ‘If he tore down and built up’.56 A Middle Babylonian manuscript is the oldest example of calendric omens from Mesopotamia. It stems from the last centuries of the 2nd millennium and belonged to the library of a group of Seers in Babylon.57 It contained calendar omens arranged according to month for the whole year, and is a somewhat shorter version than the standard series known from the 1st millennium. The series consisted of two parts, one arranged according to month, the other according to ominous phenomena. An example from the first part: If he tore down a house in Nisannu: Its foundation will not be stable. If ditto in AjjƗru: This house will expand. If ditto in SimƗnu: He will have trouble. If ditto in Du’uzu: Delivery from evil. If ditto in Abu: The death bed will enter the man’s house.58

There also existed a tabular, abbreviated form of the calendar omens, which makes the similar purpose and close relationship between calendar omens and the almanacs even more evident. The table consisted of at least 14 columns, the first listed the activity, the following 12 indicated the months, and the final column indicated whether these months were favourable for the undertaking in question. The apodoses were never quoted. The tabular form was often combined on manuscripts with tabular 55

There is no direct evidence for a tablet concerned with intercalary AddƗru. Landsberger, Kultische Kalender, 101-2, only lists manuscripts for intercalary Nisannu, SimƗnu, intercalary Elnjlu, Araপsamnu, ৫ebƝtu, ŠabƗtu and AddƗru. 56 First discussed by E. Weidner, ‘Ein Hauskalender aus dem alten Babylonien’, Scritti in onore di Giuseppi Furlani Rivista degli Studi Orientali 32 (1957): 18596; R. Labat, Un Calendrier babylonien des travaux, des signes et des mois (series Iqqur Ưpuš) (Paris: Librairie Honoré, Champion, 1965) remains the standard edition even though more manuscripts have been identified. 57 Published by Labat, Un calendrier, pl. 41-43, 49-50. 58 Labat, Un Calendrier, § 7.

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lists of favourable days, and even in one instance with a full version of the Babylonian Almanac.59

Table 4: Tabular version of the calendar omen series Iqqur Ưpuš (VAT 13799+: 1-5).

There can be no doubt that calendar divination was practiced from the Old Babylonian period on. The Old Babylonian king Šamaši-Adad reported his arrival on a ‘favourable day at the end of the month of Dumuzu’, which must be an implicit reference to an almanac.60 An official of the Cassite king Burnaburiaš, reporting on work in progress, mentioned that Elnjlu was a favourable month for moving the bed-chambers according to ‘a tablet’, undoubtedly a reference to a calendar divination text, perhaps ‘Babylonian

59

D. J. Wiseman and J. A. Black, Literary Texts (CTN 4), No. 56. J.-M. Durand, Archives épitolaires de Mari I. Archives Royales de Mari 26/1 (Paris: Musée du Louvre, 1988) No. 10.

60

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Almanac’.61 A contemporary manuscript of this was, as mentioned, found in the Cassite city Dur-Kurigalzu.62 Almanacs were frequently quoted by the scholars at the Neo Assyrian court, but it appears that the almanacs were relevant primarily for the timing of religious and personal matters, not for matters of state or war. Entering and concluding a treaty is the only political event mentioned as timed in accordance with the almanac, and treaties and oaths were of course powerful religious rituals as well.63 The scholars affiliated with the Neo Assyrian court would excerpt relevant parts of almanacs for the king,64 perhaps from memory, as the inconsistencies of the passage quoted by a scholar in answer to a question from the king could indicate.65 The scholars would advise on favourable days for concluding a treaty, for moving the royal statues, building a cella, ending the king’s fast, visits from the Crown Prince and other of the princes, and a scholar taking a day off from thinking because the day is ‘evil’.66 The right timing of ritual activities figures prominently including the performance of: sacrifices, dream rituals, offerings, extispicy, the substitute king ritual (against the evil portended by a lunar eclipse), rituals against ‘cultic evil’ and witchcraft, and a cleansing ritual.67 This is not surprising, and indeed ritual instructions may begin with the words ‘in a right month, on a favourable day’. However, the days the scholars quote do not always fit the preserved hemerologies, for instance a scholar explains that Elnjlu (VI) is a favourable month and that the 2nd is a good day for extispicy, a date not mentioned in either of the known lists of favourable days for extispicy.68

61

The Babylonian Expedition of the University of Pennsylvania 17, no. 23: 14-17. R. Labat, ‘Un calendrier Cassite de Jours Fastes et Néfastes’, Sumer 8 (1952): 17-36, pl. 1-2. 63 Simo Parpola, Letters (SAA 10), No. 379. 64 Hermann Hunger, Astrological Reports to Assyrian Kings (SAA 8) (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1992), Nos. 231, 233, 234, 235, 236. 65 Parpola, Letters (SAA 10), Nos. 5 and 6. 66 Parpola, Letters (SAA 10), Nos. 13, 14, 43, 52, 53, 73, 74, 190, 207, 61. 67 Parpola, Letters (SAA 10), Nos. 44, 59, 70, 183, 221, 254, 255, 272, 276, 277. 68 Parpola, Letters (SAA 10), No. 183. 62

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Days of the month - no. of extispicies performed

ͳͲ ͺ ͸ Ͷ ʹ Ͳ ͳ

͵

ͷ

͹

ͻ ͳͳ ͳ͵ ͳͷ ͳ͹ ͳͻ ʹͳ ʹ͵ ʹͷ ʹ͹ ʹͻ

Table 5: A survey of extispicies performed according to the dates of the term of validity. The arrows indicate days not suitable for extispicy according to the Royal Hemerology.69

A. Livingstone has conducted a survey, which demonstrates that adherence to the regulations of the hemerologies was relatively strong, both when it came to extispicies performed for the king, and, to a lesser degree, when making a transaction at the market place.70 The Neo Assyrian royal inscriptions frequently refer to actions undertaken at a favourable time. They present a picture of the actual use of calendar divination similar to that of the royal correspondence, discussed above. For instance, Esarhaddon mentions the timing of symbolically charged political events, and especially the construction of both religious and palatial buildings. He records how he entered the palace of the crown prince in a ‘favourable month, on an auspicious day’, and how he reclaimed his father’s throne after quelling the rebellion against him, ‘in the favourable month AddƗru on the 8th, the eššƝšu-festival of Nabû’. He timed the construction work on his palace, and laid the foundations to 69 The table is based on A. Livingstone, ‘The case of the hemerologies’ (1993) and Beate Pongratz-Leisten, Herrschaftwissen in Mesopotamien. Formen der Kommunikation zwischen Gott und König im 2. und 1. Jahrtausend v.Chr. (SAAS 10 (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1999), with minor revisions. The extispicy reports are published by Ivan Starr, Queries to the Sungod (SAA 4) (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1990). 70 A. Livingstone, ‘The case of the Hemerologies’ (1993).

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Esagil, the temple Sin and Shamash, and temples of Aššur in the same manner. Also the production of cult statues had to be timed carefully in accordance with the almanac.71

Calendar and Zodiac The almanacs and calendar omens continued to be copied, but in the late first millennium new divination genres developed, breaking free of the traditional formats. The most significant change was probably caused by the introduction of the Zodiac.72 A heterogeneous group of astrological texts turn around the subdivision of the Zodiac, the micro-zodiac. The micro-zodiac was used to indicate rising times for sections of the ecliptic, and as a categorizing device for combining astrological lore with other magical and religious traditions.73 Two principles are attested in cuneiform sources: the simple micro-zodiac (A) and the dodekatemoria (B) scheme.74 71

The inscriptions of Esarhaddon are available in a searchable version online at The Royal Inscriptions of the Neo-Assyrian Period (RINAP), http://oracc.museum.upenn.edu/rinap/rinap4/corpus/. 72 Lis Brack-Bernsen and Hermann Hunger, ‘The Babylonian Zodiac: Speculations on its Invention and Significance’, Centaurus 41 (1999): 280-292. 73 A 3427, BM 34713, BM 34664, see F. Rochberg, ‘A Babylonian Rising Times Scheme in Non-Tabular Astronomical Texts’, in C. Burnett, M. Iqbal, J. P. Hogendijk, K. Plofker, and M. Yano, eds., Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2004), 56-94. 74 In the simple microzodiac (A) each zodiacal sign was itself simply divided into twelve parts named after the Zodiac. The sign was simply subdivided into twelve sections (zittu) of 2½o each beginning with the name of the sign in case. According to this scheme the first section of Taurus was Taurus and the last was Aries. A planet with the longitude 24o of Aries will be in the microzodiacal section Capricorn, since the microzodiacal Capricorn begins in 22½o of Aries. The dodekatemoria scheme (B) for calculating the dodekatemoria gave a different result from the simple microzodiac. Here the degrees of the position were multiplied with 12 and the sum then added to the original position—the same as multiplying with 13. Thus the dodekatemorion of a planet in Aries with the longitude 24o will be Aquarius according to the dodekatemoria scheme (B), since 288o + 24o = 312o. This last scheme emulates the movements of the Moon and the Sun. During a lunar month the Moon passes through 13 zodiacal signs as the Sun moves through one. Thus the Moon in the month of Nisannu (I) will start and end the month in Aries, assuming new year at new Moon on 0o Aries. The dodekatemoria is one of the elements that were certainly incorporated into Hellenistic astrology, see F. Rochberg, ‘Elements of the Babylonian Contribution to Hellenistic Astrology’, Journal of the American Oriental Society 108 (1987): 51-62.

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Both principles of correlating one sign of the Zodiac with another of course open up more possibilities for interpretation, since any given phenomena can be correlated with two signs of the Zodiac. Another way of multiplying and correlating positions and occurrences appears to be attested in the so-called ‘Calendar Texts.’ Most of the Calendar Texts do not even mention any celestial bodies or signs of the Zodiac. Each entry in a Calendar Text begins with two pairs of integer numbers, the ‘calendar scheme’, which Brack-Bernsen and Steele have shown represents a procedure by which each day of an ideal year of 360 days is correlated with a specific degree of the ecliptic different from the position of the Sun. At the same time it can be used to determine the ideal position of the moon in the dodekatemoria on a given calendar date, or vice versa, according to an ideal calendar of 360 days. The integers were combined with lists of trees, stones, plants, topographical names, prescriptions, prognostications and rituals, but the list of integers also existed as an independent series and is known in manuscripts dating to the late 5th century BCE.75 Since it combines a scheme for the calculation of the dodekatemoria with the ‘calendar scheme’, the manuscript BM 47851 forms a link between the micro-zodiacal texts and the Calendar Texts.76 A further connection is shown by two texts from Uruk.77 They belonged to a series of originally twelve tablets which correlated each day of each month with a sign of the Zodiac, a degree therein and ingredients for a magical/medical ointment. The association between zodiacal signs and ingredients is constant and related to the representation of the sign. The zodiacal sign Leo is thus associated with lion’s blood, lion’s fat or lion’s hair, Aries with sheep’s blood, sheep’s fat or sheep’s hair. What ailments these ointments were intended to remedy is however not explained. The micro-zodiacal texts typically correlated the signs with various cultic, divinatory, therapeutic, dietary, apotropaic, or other religious and magical staples. For instance, in the compilation BM 33535, each sign of a

75

BM 96258 and BM 96293, Lis Brack-Bernsen and J. M. Steele, ‘Babylonian Mathemagics: Two Astronomical-Astrological Texts’, in C. Burnett, Hogendijk Plofker and Yano, eds., Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2004), 95-125. 76 Hermann Hunger, ‘Ein astrologisches Zahlenschema’, Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 86 (1996): 191-97. 77 E. von Weiher, Spätbabylonische Texte from Uruk (Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag, 1988), Nos. 104 and 105.

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micro-zodiac is described by five sections.78 The first section combines the micro-zodiacal sign with a place, kinds of tree, plants, stone and other materials used for therapy. The second section combines it with a cultic event, the third with instructions for a kind of divination (making certain gods speak that month), the fourth with a recipe for an amulet: (1.) Gemini of Sagittarius. The city of Lagaš [break], white kiškanû-tree, red kiškanû-tree [break], amƯlƗnu-plant, engisû-stone, anza‫ېې‬u-glass which is multiplied by two …-stone. SA:A. (2.) Gemini of Sagittarius: Day of the city god. The twins Sin and Shamash. Nergal. Feast of Ninurta. (3.) In SimƗnu from the 1st to the 30th day, let the man wash himself, let him anoint himself with the oil of the šimeššalû-plant, let him be clothed with a blanket, let him put on a sandal, let him eat bread of arsuppu-barley, let him drink beer of arsuppu-barley, let him put on a headdress(?) let him sleep on the roof, let him not be clothed … (then) the gods of the night will speak to him. (4.) You wrap (an amulet) in a piece of donkey’s hide, with a donkey’s sinew, with a thread of red wool, you place it on his neck. (5.) Gemini: ‫ې‬alub-tree, …-bird.79

So far just nine micro-zodiacal texts of this type are known.80 Six of these belonged to a series of originally twelve sections which treated the zodiacal signs and corresponding micro-zodiac in considerable detail.81 The series was named the ‘Gestirn-Darstellung’ texts by Weidner because some of the manuscripts have drawings of stars and constellations. The series combined eclipse omens and almanacs, both known as independent texts from older other sources, with the micro-zodiacal subsections. The amount of late astrological texts is dwarfed by the manuscripts of the traditional divination texts (Ennjma Anu Enlil, its scholia) and the epistolary evidence for the practice of traditional celestial divination. Most of the manuscripts are fragmentary and only few passages are known from more than one source. There is some evidence that divination texts could be written on parchment, as magallatu and specialized parchment scribes

78

Hermann Hunger, ‘How to Make the Gods Speak: A Late Babylonian Tablet Related to the Microzodiak’, in Martha Roth et al., eds., Studies Presented to Robert D. Biggs June 4, 2004 (Chicago: The Oriental Institute, 2007), 141-52. 79 Hermann Hunger, ‘How to Make the Gods Speak’, BM 33535:1-16. 80 Listed by Hunger, ‘How to Make the Gods Speak’, 145. 81 E. F. Weidner, Gestirn-Darstellungen auf babylonischen Tontafeln. (Östereichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philos.histor. Kl. S.B. 254) (Graz: Hermann Böhlaus Nachf., 1967).

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are known from Seleucid Uruk.82 Magallatu seems to denote scholarly or literary texts of a length to justify the use of a parchment scroll. The colophons of excerpts on clay of the omen compendia Šumma Izbu and of commentaries to Šumma Ɨlu mention parchment scrolls as their source. Normally, one would expect parchment texts to be in the alphabetic scripts of Aramaic or Greek, and it is not unreasonable to suppose that also calendar divination and astrology of the new kind were written in Aramaic and Greek on perishable materials.

Conclusion The earliest sources indicate that units of time could be perceived as having inherent characteristics, such as favourable and unfavourable, and could even be personified and managed by magic. This concept was perpetuated up until the centuries around the beginning of the Common Era. Reification of time appears to be a human universal, but in the case of Mesopotamia it developed into a form of calendar divination, where the significance depended on inherent religious values associated with entities of time itself (month, determining destinies, beginning/end/middle of lunar month, cultic calendar) which were only linked to astronomical phenomena in so far as observations of the moon determined the beginning of the day and the month, and the sun determined the seasons, and the movement of the celestial sphere determined the year. From multiple local cultic calendars, a universal calendar was introduced in the Old Babylonian period. The calendar was used for divination, in the sense that it was consulted in order to find a suitable and auspicious time for various enterprises, as well as for avoiding upsetting the gods by behaving in an untimely manner. With the introduction of the Zodiac calendar, divination became separated from its original context. The moon retained its traditional significance, but the meaning of time was no longer derived solely from the significance of individual dates based on the lunar and cultic calendar. Days and months took on meaning from zodiacal signs and planets as well. In other words, Mesopotamian calendar divination went from being basically a cultural specific list of ‘good days’ to a system that could be universally applied. The Zodiac—as the versatile and general tool it is—was the ideal vehicle for transmission of ideas and concepts into Hellenistic culture. As mentioned, even today, many forms of modern forms of calendar divination have close links with zodiacal astrology. 82 Philippe Clancier, ‘Les scribes sur parchemin du temple d’Anu’, Revue d’Assyriologie 99 (2005): 85-104.

CHAPTER ELEVEN 4QZODIAC CALENDAR IN RELATION TO BABYLONIAN HOROSCOPES HELEN R. JACOBUS Abstract The Aramaic zodiac calendar in the Dead Sea Scrolls contained in 4Q318 (4QZodiac Calendar and Brontologion) is a functioning calendar of a different kind to the Hebrew calendars in the scrolls. Following my presentation about this scroll at this annual conference in 2009, this paper will show how 4QZodiac Calendar works in relation to data in the Babylonian calendar. Using lunar zodiac data from Francesca Rochberg’s Babylonian Horoscopes (Philadelphia, 1998), it will suggest that the Qumran zodiac calendar is a variant version of the Babylonian calendar found in cuneiform horoscopes. The process and purpose of this probable transmission of culture will also be discussed.

This study comprises a further exploration of the zodiac calendar in the Dead Sea Scrolls that was the subject of the proceedings of the annual Sophia Centre conference in 2009.1 It was demonstrated that 4QZodiac Calendar (4Q318) from Cave 4 at Qumran, an Aramaic lunar zodiac calendar text, can be used to ascertain the position of the moon in the zodiac on a given date in the Hebrew calendar. This calendar from the Dead Sea Scrolls is luni-solar (explained in greater detail below), not solar, as is the Gregorian calendar, the revised Julian calendar that we use in the western world. Here, I shall show that 4Q318 is calibrated to the year following the intercalation of a month, that is, the insertion of a 30day month, to keep the lunar calendar in line with the solar calendar so 1

H. R. Jacobus, ‘Calendars and Divination in the Dead Sea Scrolls: The Case of 4Q318: Zodiac Calendar and Brontologion’, in N. Campion, ed., Cosmologies (Ceredigion: Sophia Centre Press, 2010), 29-51, http://www.scribd.com/doc/114653627/Calendars-and-Divination-in-the-DeadSea-Scrolls-the-case-of-4Q318-4QZodiac-Calendar-and-Brontologion (accessed 27 December 2012).

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that the months are associated with particular seasons. This is unlike the Islamic calendar which is more or less purely lunar whereby the months, and hence the Islamic festivals, are not seasonally linked, unlike the Jewish (and Christian) festivals.2 This research below is comparative: the moon’s position in the zodiac for dates in 4QZodiac Calendar will be compared with identical data in Babylonian horoscopes. The Babylonian calendar can be used to keep track of the moon in the zodiac; I shall suggest that Babylonian diviners used an aide memoire to help them work out the moon’s position in the zodiac given that some years were intercalary and others not, a mathematical problem which affects determining the moon’s zodiacal position in the luni-solar calendar. This mathematical-calendrical prompt, I propose, was served by the Uruk scheme, as shall be explained. No nativity charts were found at Qumran, nor, indeed, were any Babylonian mathematical astronomical texts. There is, thus, no evidence to suggest that the Uruk scheme was preserved in ancient Jewish archives; however, it is possible to argue that the zodiac calendar at Qumran could be used with it and that this Aramaic manuscript developed out of cuneiform sources. 4Q318 included a brontologion (4QBrontologion), an astrological thunder omen text that predicted the fate of king and country in the style of Mesopotamian omen texts. One may postulate that 4QZodiac Calendar was considered good enough for thunder omen interpretation as a crude ephemeris from which to work. Minor adjustments could be made, assuming that the practitioner knew which years were intercalary and which were not, a situation that would be perfectly feasible in the society at large, and not necessarily confined to its astronomers.

The Babylonian Calendar, the 360-day year and intercalation The following is a summary of the Babylonian calendar, with particular emphasis on how it was arithmetically regulated. The following constitutes the possible technical background to 4QZodiac Calendar. The lunar year of approximately 354 days is about 11 days behind the solar, or tropical, year of 365.24 days. In a luni-solar calendar, where the festivals can be seasonally based, a certain number of days have to be 2

D. King, ‘Islamic Astronomy’, in C. Walker, ed., Astronomy before the telescope (St. Martin’s Press: New York, 1996), 155-6; E. G. Richards, Mapping Time: the Calendar and its History (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 231-5.

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added periodically to the lunar year so that the (man-made) calendrical date is in the same season as the agricultural year, since the seasons are solar, governed by the sun. This appended period of time is known as an intercalation; the lunar calendar is artificially corrected in order to keep up with the solar calendar by the addition of extra periods of time to compensate for the 11 or so days’ shortfall each lunar year. A luni-solar calendar will affect the lunar date of the moon’s position in the zodiac, so if no correction takes place, the date that the moon is in a sign each lunar year will simply regress by about 11 days. According to most scholars, in the early fifth century BCE the Babylonian system of calendation was standardised into a 19-year lunisolar cycle composed of 235 synodic lunar months, which equates to 19 solar or tropical years, as the basis for the civil calendar. After 235 synodic months, the sun and moon return to their initial sidereal positions at conjunction to within ¼°.3 The months consist of 29 and 30 days intercalated seven times during the 19 solar years with an embolistic (or intercalary) 30-day month added in regular, fixed and repeated positions.4 The seven 30-day lunar months were intercalated at fixed intervals of three and two years, thereby creating seven 13-month lunar years of ca. 384 days and twelve 12-month lunar years of ca. 354 days in every 19year cycle (7x13=91; 12x12=144; 91+144=235).5 The twelfth month (spring: February/ March), Addaru, was intercalated six times, and the

3

J. Britton, ‘Calendars, Intercalations and Year-Lengths’, in J. M. Steele, ed., Calendars and Years: Astronomy and Time in the Ancient Near East (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2007), 115-32, esp. 127, 130. The sidereal position here means the point, viewed from the earth, where the sun and moon have each returned to the same star relative to each other in the intervening 235-month period. 4 In Babylonia, this was a second Adar (XII2) (also denoted as XII**) and a second Ulnjlu (VI2) (also denoted as VI**). According to Britton, VI2 was the first year of the cycle until it was discontinued in the fourth century BCE during the reign of Artaxerxes I; it was resumed thereafter and continued in the Seleucid period, see Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena’, 33-36, Fig. 4; Britton, ‘Calendars, Intercalations and Year Lengths’, 122-24, Fig. 7, in O. Neugebauer, Astronomical Cuneiform Texts (London: N.J.-Lund Humphries, 1955) [ACT], 33.; O. Neugebauer, The Exact Sciences in Antiquity, 2nd edition (New York: Dover, 1969), 140; W. K Pritchett and O. Neugebauer, The Calendars of Athens (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1947), 3-14. 5 J. Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena in Cuneiform Sources’, in Under One Sky: Astronomy and Mathematics in the Ancient Near East, ed. J. M. Steele and A. Imhausen (Münster–Ugarit-Verlag, 2002), 21-78, esp. 33; Britton, ‘Calendars, Intercalations and Year-Lengths’, 121-4.

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sixth month, Ulnjlu (autumn: August/ September) was intercalated once in the 19-year cycle. Britton, whose arrangement tends to be followed by modern scholars, places the additional Ulnjlu in the first year of the 19-year cycle, after 484 BCE6 except during the reign of Aratxerxes I when it disappeared completely.7 Neugebauer states that intercalations took place in years 1, 4, 7, 9, 12, 15 and 18 of the 19-year cycle and in the 18th year there was an additional Ulnjlu.8 Wacholder and Weisburg, following Parker and Dubberstein, place the intercalary Ulnjlu in the 17th year of the 19-year cycle.9 There are four basic types of years in the Babylonian 19-year cycle. This categorisation subsumes the leap year with the intercalary Ulnjlu and the year that follows it; they would give us six types of years. These are: (1) Seven regular years that follow an embolismic year. (2) Five regular years that follow regular years. (3) Two intercalary years which constitute the second year after the previous embolistic year when the moon can reach a very late position in the calendar. (4) Five intercalary years which constitute the third year after the previous embolistic year.

Due to the regular and fixed system of corrections to the lunar calendar the date when the moon is in any particular zodiac sign, the lunar-stellar, or lunar-zodiac position, should be possible to compute. In ordinary years (1) and (2) the luni-solar date will be 10 or 11 days earlier than it was the year previously (the difference between the solar year of 365.24 days and the lunar year of 354 days, known as the ‘epact’, is 11.24 days). Thus, the date in the following year (Y2) is ca. 11 days’ earlier in the solar year than the previous years date (Y1). The luni-solar calendar arithmetic for when a year is intercalated in the spring is thus:

6

Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena’, 33; Britton, ‘Calendars, Intercalations and Year-Lengths’, 122. 7 Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena’, 33, 36. 8 Neugebauer, Astronomical Cuneiform Texts, 33; Neugebauer, A History of Ancient Mathematical Astronomy, 3 Vols. (Studies in the History of Mathematics and Physical Sciences 1) (Berlin: Springer–Verlag., 1975 [HAMA]), 356. 9 B. Z. Wacholder and D. B. Weisberg, ‘Visibility of the New Moon in Cuneiform and Rabbinic Sources’, HUCA 24 (1971): 237; R. A. Parker and W. H. Dubberstein, Babylonian Chronology 626 BC–AD 75 (Providence, RI: Brown University, 1956).

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Luni-solar Y2 = Y1–11days

If the next year is an ordinary year, Y3, that date will fall another ca. 11 days behind the tropical year: Luni-solar Y3 = (Y1) – ca. 11 days + (Y2) – ca. 11 days = – ca. 22 days behind Y1

Then, after the addition of an intercalary 30-day month the luni-solar date will be about 19 days ahead of the previous year because the 30-day addition to the year (Y4) has to compensate for the previous years’ ca. 11day slippage against the solar year, thus: Luni-solar Y4 = Y3 + embolistic month (30 days) – ca. 11 days = +19 days.10

So, for example, ideally, if Y1 is 8 Tammuz (the eighth day of the fourth month, represented here as: Month IV 8), Y2 would be 27 Sivan (Month III 27), Y3 would be 16 Sivan (Month III 16) and Y4 would be 16 Tammuz (Month IV 16). If the astronomer knew the position of the year in the 19-year cycle from the last intercalary Ulnjlu, then they might be able to reckon the moon’s position in the zodiac from the lunar zodiac calendar. However, keeping track of mental addition and subtraction over 19 years requires some skill. The Babylonian calendar measured the length of the tropical year from the time of the summer solstice to the next summer solstice. This astronomical refinement of the 19-year cycle appears in fragments of tablets from Uruk, dated to the fourth century BCE. Called the Uruk scheme by Neugebauer, his explanation was later modified by Slotsky, and by Britton.11 The first recorded summer solstice date of the 7th day of the fourth month (Month IV 7 in 351 BCE) would shift forwards or backwards in reverse to the above pattern in the 19-year cycle. The solstice date is 19 days ahead of the lunar year in the next regular year (Month III 18, 350 BCE), and after an intercalation the date is 11 days

10

I thank Peter Nockolds for this explanation. Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena’, 22, 43-44 (Fig. 7), 48, 51 n. 41, 78; A. Slotsky, ‘The Uruk Scheme Revisited’, in Die Rolle der Astronomie in den Kulturen Mesopotamiens, ed. H. D. Galter, GMS 3 (Graz: GrazKult, 1993), 359366; O. Neugebauer, ‘A Table of Solstices from Uruk’, JCS 1 (1947): 143-8; O. Neugebauer, ‘Solstices and Equinoxes in Babylonian Astronomy during the Seleucid Period’, JCS 2 (1948): 209-22. 11

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behind the previous year’s date (Month III 29, 349 BCE).12 The tablets contained an arithmetical scheme for about three centuries from which it was possible to compute the winter solstice and spring and autumn equinoxes, all based on calculation, not observation.13 Babylonian horoscopes often included the date of the nearest solstice or equinox to the birth-date.14 This information would have enabled the astronomer-astrologer to identify whether an intercalation was due using an easier method than adding and subtracting days and dates blindly through 19 years from the last previous intercalary Ulnjlu, the marking point in the cycle. I conjecture that the purpose of the Uruk scheme was, thus, probably for use as an astrological aid (in contrast to Britton, who wondered if the text was “an exercise in pointless precision?”15). In a scheme whereby each day in the 360-day calendar represented a degree, the moon’s position in the zodiac would move forwards and backwards in the Babylonian calendar: forwards after an intercalation and then backwards after ordinary year.16 The implication is that a “barefoot diviner”, that is, not a court astronomer-astrologer with access to astronomical archives and historical data,17 could be aware of when years were intercalated by being familiar with the dates of the solstices and equinoxes, and thus be able to estimate the moon’s sign from an ideal zodiac calendar.18 I shall now turn to the nature of the ideal 360-day year in Mesopotamia composed of 12 months of 30 days each. Since 4QZodiac Calendar has 360 days, the issues that concern scholarship on the Mesopotamian 36012

See Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena’, 43-44 (Fig. 7, line 1-3), 48, 767 (Figure D: U 107+124 lines 1-3), 78. 13 Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena’, 43; Neugebauer, HAMA, 357-363. 14 F. Rochberg, ‘Babylonian Horoscopy: The Texts and their Relations’ (1999), repr. in In the Path of the Moon (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 204; F. Rochberg, Babylonian Horoscopes (Philadelphia: APS, 1998), 43-4. 15 Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena’, 48. 16 L. Brack-Bernsen and J. M. Steele, ‘Babylonian Mathemagics: Two Mathematical Astronomical-Astrological Texts’, in Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree, ed. C. Burnett et al. (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 95-121 (102, 110). 17 See F. Rochberg, ‘Scribes and Scholars: the Tiiiupšar Ennjma Anu Enlil’, in In the Path of the Moon (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 237-56; F. Rochberg, Heavenly Writing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 41, 45; H. Hunger, Astrological Reports to Assyrian Kings (SAA 8) (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1992); A. J. Sachs and H. Hunger, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia, 5 Vols (Vienna: VOAW, 1988-2001). 18 Further explored below, ‘Cuneiform horoscopes and 4QZodiac Calendar’.

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day year may also be relevant to 4Q318. One of the functions of the 360day calendar in Mesopotamia was divinatory; however, unlike the standard Mesopotamian civil calendar, the method of how it worked is not clear. The ideal 360-day-year calendar, consisting of twelve 30-day months, dates back to administrative and civil documents of the early third millennium (Ur III).19 There is evidence that as an administrative calendar it was intercalated irregularly by having a 13-month year of 390 days; therefore, it was luni-solar. According to Brack-Bernsen, the 360-day calendar was intercalated every six years and it co-existed with the lunisolar calendar from ca. 1800 BCE to 300 BCE.20 Hunger takes a similar view, contending that a 360-day calendar would need to be intercalated every 5 or 6 years.21 Britton had a different interpretation, arguing that the 360-day schematic year was “devoid of intercalations” by the end of the third millennium.22

Cuneiform horoscopes and 4QZodiac Calendar The Babylonian zodiac, consisting of twelve signs made up of 30 degrees each appeared “around the middle of the second half of the middle of the fifth century BCE”23 and its invention enabled astronomers to give the longitude of the moon and the sun and the planets in measurements of zodiac degrees, rather than according to particular areas, such as named stars, in zodiacal constellations.24 According to Van der Waerden, the division of each zodiac sign into 30 degrees was developed in order to correspond with a crude solar month, that is the time that it takes for the sun to transit each sign: the “the twelvefold division of the sun’s path” was “fundamental not only in astronomy, but also in astrology: the practice of 19 R. K. Englund, ‘Administrative Timekeeping in Mesopotamia’, JESHO 31 (1988): 121-85 (144, n. 17, 181). 20 L. Brack-Bernsen, ‘The 360-Day Year in Mesopotamia’, in Calendars and Years, 89, 93-98. She argues that the 360-day-year Old Babylonian administrative calendar (ca. 2600 BCE-ca.300 BCE) was intercalated with an additional 30-day month every six years. 21 Oral communication with H. Hunger, February 2008. 22 J. Britton, ‘Calendars, Intercalation and Year-Lengths in Mesopotamian Astronomy’, in Calendars and Years, 117-119; J. Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena in Cuneiform Sources’, 23; D. Brown, Mesopotamian Planetary Astronomy-Astrology (Groningen: Styx, 2000), 247-8. 23 Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena’, 36. 24 F. Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 126-33.

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horoscope astrology is based on it”.25 The art of casting birth charts from which an astrologer foretells a person’s fate based on the position of the sun, moon and five planets at the time of birth is attested in Mesopotamia in the late fifth century BCE.26 The purpose of the Babylonian horoscopes was to record the position of the seven planets: the moon, sun and the five classical planets in the zodiac on the birth date of, usually, an unnamed person who is signified by the phrase “a child is born”, in order to give a prognostication.27 The textual content is formulaically structured according to a hierarchical model of time beginning with the year (most are dated in the Seleucid era), and the day of the month, whether the month is full or hollow with the Babylonian month-names.28 The zodiacal positions of the moon, sun, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Mars and Mercury are listed in that order.29 The time of birth is measured by the seasonal hour, the watch, or its proximity to sunrise. The date of the nearest lunar or solar eclipse to the birth date is included in the data, and its position in the Uruk scheme according to the 19-year cycle.30 These data would have informed the astrologer whether the year of the birth date was intercalary. A large proportion of texts concerned with horoscopy also existed in Hellenistic Uruk from 250 BCE and thereafter in Babylon from the second century BCE.31 We shall now compare the position of the moon in the zodiac on given dates in a sample of Babylonian horoscopes collected by Rochberg against corresponding data in 4QZodiac Calendar.32 It is generally assumed that 25

B. L. van der Waerden, Science Awakening II (Leiden: Noordhoff, 1974), 287. Sachs, ‘Babylonian Horoscopes’, 52-57; F. Rochberg, Babylonian Horoscopes (TAPS 88; Philadelphia APS), 51-55 (hereafter BH); F. Rochberg, ‘Babylonian Horoscopes and their Sources’, Or 58: 111-4; Rochberg-Halton, ‘New Evidence for the History of Astrology’, 18. 27 Rochberg, Heavenly Writing, 103. Rochberg, Babylonian Horoscopes, 4-6, horoscope text editions: 51-147. 28 Rochberg, Babylonian Horoscopes, 35; Rochberg, Heavenly Writing, 103. 29 Rochberg, Babylonian Horoscopes, 7, 9, 39, 45. 30 For example, Rochberg, Babylonian Horoscopes, 78: Text 8 (BM36943), rev 12, the winter solstice date is given as the 8th of the 10th month, TebƝtu, 251 BCE, a position that corresponded with the 5th year of the 19-year cycle in the Uruk scheme. 31 O. Neugebauer, Astronomical Cuneiform Texts [ACT] (London: Lund Humphries, 1955) 1: 11, 41-2; F. Rochberg, ‘The Cultural Locus of Astronomy in Late Babylonia’, in Galter, ed., Die Rolle der Astronomie in den Kulturen Mesopotamiens, 31-45. 32 Rochberg, BH; Rochberg, Heavenly Writing, 103-107. 26

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none of the cuneiform horoscopes were reckoned by observation, but computed with the use of almanacs and other sources, such as astronomical Diaries.33 As shown by Rochberg, sometimes where the zodiacal degrees do exist there are discrepancies between the ancient data and modern computation of the planetary, solar and lunar position in their zodiac signs.34 She further comments: “…we still cannot confidently identify the ancient methods used to obtain their results”.35 The following analysis will suggest that one of the horoscopic methods may have been to include the use of schematic lunar zodiac calendars to ascertain and compute the position of the moon in a horoscope. Of the fewer than 30 Babylonian horoscopes from the late fifth (ca. 400 BCE) to the first century BCE (50 BCE) collected by Rochberg, about 24 give the zodiac signs of the moon at the time of birth.36 Her numbering of texts reflects the chronological ages of the tablets (later horoscopes have higher numbers); the earlier texts describe data in terms of Normal Stars and zodiacal constellations.37 Late third century BCE texts include the moon’s zodiac sign for the time the subject of the horoscope was born in addition to the zodiacal constellations. Texts after the mid-second century BCE

33

M. Stol, Birth in Babylonia and the Bible: Its Mediterranean Setting (Cuneiform Monographs 14) (Groningen: Styx, 2000), 96; Hunger and Pingree, Astral Sciences in Mesopotamia (Handbook of Oriental Studies) (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 27; Rochberg, Heavenly Writing, 145-163 (esp. 156–7); P-A Beaulieu and F. Rochberg, ‘The Horoscope of Anu-bƝl-sunu’, JCS 48 (1996): 90; F. RochbergHalton, ‘Babylonian Seasonal Hours’, Centaurus 32.2 (1989): 156-160. 34 F. Rochberg, ‘Babylonian Horoscopy: The Texts and Their Relations’, in Ancient Astronomy and Celestial Divination, ed. N. M. Swerdlow (Cambridge, MA: MIT, 2000), 39-59, see Table 1, p. 46; also Rochberg-Halton, ‘Babylonian Horoscopes and their Sources’, 102-23. 35 Rochberg, BH, 21. 36 F. Rochberg, ‘Lunar Data in Babylonian Horoscopes’, Centaurus 45 (2003): 3245, 32, 44 n. 2 lists; BH: 9, 10, 12, 16a, 16b [BH states ‘16’], 19, 20, 21, 22a, 22b, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27 (repr. In the Path of the Moon, 259); in addition horoscopes giving the zodiac sign of the moon at the time of the birth of the child include Texts 8, 13, 14, 15, 17 and 18. 37 Some 32 reference stars dotted around the ecliptic noted in terms of the positions of the moon and planets, Rochberg, Heavenly Writing, 125; J. Epping, Astronomisches aus Babylon, Stimmen aus Maria Laach. Ergänzungsheft 44 (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder’sche Verlagshandlung, 1889), 115; Sachs and Hunger, Diaries, 17-19; Hunger and Pingree, Astral Sciences, 148-151 (list 148-9); G. Grasshoff, ‘Normal Star Observations in Late Babylonian Astronomical Diaries’, in Ancient Astronomy and Celestial Divination, ed. N. M. Swerdlow (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1999), 123, Table 6; Neugebauer, HAMA, 545.

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solely use the zodiac signs.38 Six horoscopes contain the degree of the moon within the zodiac sign, five of which are in error varying from two hours to more than a day when checked with modern computation by Rochberg, and my own programme.39 I have here analysed a selection of the Babylonian horoscopes dating from 263 BCE to 69 BCE. This sample contains the texts that state the degree of the moon in its zodiac sign, and most of those that attest the lunar zodiac sign only, without the degree.40 As stated, the standard Babylonian calendar is intercalated seven times in a 19-year cycle: with an Ulnjlu II (Month VI2) in the first year of the cycle. In addition, the following six years have an Adarru II (Month XII2): years 3, 6, 9, 11, 14, 17 of the 19-year cycle.41 It is possible to confirm which years are intercalary in the Babylonian calendar from the ParkerDubberstein (PD) tables, Britton’s tables, and the online Seleucid-Julian date tables compiled by the late Chris Bennett.42 I have included this information, below. Rochberg computed the degree of the zodiac sign of the moon for all of the texts based on the date (day, month and year), the positions of the sun, the moon and other planets for the segment of day (the hour) or night (the watch) that the child was born, as stated in each horoscope.43 In Table 3, 38 F. Rochberg, ‘Lunar Data in Babylonian Horoscopes’, reproduced in The Path of the Moon: Babylonian Celestial Divination and Its Legacy (Studies in Ancient Magic and Divination 6) (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 259. 39 Rochberg, BH: Texts 5, 9, 16a, 23, 26, 27; Rochberg-Halton, ‘Babylonian Seasonal Hours’, 157-8; ‘Babylonian Horoscopy’, Table 2, p. 47 in Ancient Astronomy and Celestial Divination, ed. Swerdlow. I used Astrocalc (CD). The results were the same. 40 Rochberg, BH: Texts 8, 10, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16b, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 26. 41 Britton, ‘Treatments of Annual Phenomena in Cuneiform Sources’, 35 (Fig. 4); Britton, ‘Calendars, Intercalations and Year-Lengths’, 23, (Fig. 7); Cf. Neugebauer, ACT, 33. 42 R. A. Parker and W. H. Dubberstein, Babylonian Chronology 626 B.C.E-A.D. 75 (2nd edition; BUS 19) (Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 1956) (hereafter, PD); Chris Bennett, ‘Babylonian and Seleucid Dates.’ n.p. (Cited 17 September 2009) at http://www.tyndalehouse.com/Egypt/ptolemies/chron/babylonian/chron_bab_anl.h tm (hereafter, CB). It includes corrections to PD. 43 Rochberg-Halton, ‘Babylonian Seasonal Hours’, 163-4. To ascertain and test the given dates in the texts, BH used the ‘Babylonian’ zodiac system, that is, the sidereal longitudes, set for the time zone and co-ordinates of Babylon (three hours ahead of Greenwich Mean Time (GMT), also known as Universal Time (UT)), and factored a correction value for precession. I double-checked the BH calculations using a computer program, which agreed with Rochberg to about a degree (Computer program: Astrocalc, hereafter: AC). The Julian date follows the

4QZodiac Calendar In Relation To Babylonian Horoscopes

227

below, the degree of the moon in the zodiac for the day and month (without the year) in the Babylonian horoscopes has been compared with the lunar zodiacal position for the same day and month, without the year, in 4Q318. As a control, the Babylonian Horoscope texts (BH) are also compared with a late Babylonian theoretical zodiac scheme called the ‘Dodekatemoria Scheme’ (‘DS’). This was discovered by Brack-Bernsen and Steele in cuneiform calendar texts (known as the “Kalendertexte” tablets).44 I have replaced the numbers in their scheme with the zodiac signs, as per the “Kalendertexte” system of number substitution that they describe in their article. The ‘DS’ is represented in Table 1.45 It is a 360day calendar of 12 months of 30 days per month that begins at 0º Aries and each day corresponds with one degree of the zodiac. The lunar zodiac in 4Q318 is given in Table 2. This is a reconstruction of 4QZodiac Calendar with zodiacal degrees added; it is very similar to the ‘DS’; however, unlike the ‘DS’ which begins in at the start of the Babylonian zodiac at 0º Aries, 4Q318 begins in Taurus, as reconstructed based on the existing text in the fragments. As no degrees are given in the Qumran text, just the zodiac signs, I have superimposed degrees, beginning 4QZodiac Calendar at 0º Taurus. Since the moon moves at a schematic 13 degrees per day in both the ‘DS’ and 4QZodiac Calendar, conjunction would have ideally taken place at 17º Aries, the day before the first day of the first month, 1 Nisan. Data for horoscopes where the moon’s zodiac degree was not reckoned in the ancient texts have been indicated with a {C} to show Rochberg’s computation has been used and confirmed. Where the degree was given in the horoscopes (indicated here by direct quotation marks), modern computation for the data has been given, too.46

midnight epoch (midnight to midnight); the Babylonian date, from sunset to sunset. The hour, or part of night and day in the Babylonian day, determines the converted Julian date: the first part of the night in the Babylonian day will be the previous day in the Julian calendar. See Rochberg, BH, 19-21. The converted Julian calendar dates run from Jan 1 to Jan 1; the Seleucid Era dates run from Tishri to Tishri, and the Babylonian calendar dates from Nisan to Nisan. 44 L. Brack-Bernsen and J. M. Steele, ‘Babylonian Mathemagics: Two Astronomical-Astrological Texts’, in C. Burnett et al, eds., Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 95-121. 45 See Brack-Bernsen and Steele, Table 8, p. 119. I have substituted the numbers for zodiac signs. 46 Note. The data for Texts 16a (rev.) and 16b (obv.) in BH 100-104 is correct; however the tablet numbers have been reversed in Rochberg, ‘Babylonian Horoscopy’, Table 1 and Table 2, reproduced in In the Path of the Moon, 197-8.

Chapter Eleven

228

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

Sunset to sunset

0

0°-13°E

1

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

13°-26°

2

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

26°-9°

3

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

9°-22°

4

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

22°-5°

5

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

5°-18°

6

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

18°-1°

7

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

1°-14°

8

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

14°-27°

9

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

27°-10°

10

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

10°-23°

11

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

23°-6°

12

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

6°-19°

13

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

19°-2°

14

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

2°-15°

15

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

15°-28°

16

K

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

28°-11°

17

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

11°-24°

18

L

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

24°-7°

19

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

7°-20°

20

M

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

20°-3°

21

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

3°-16°

22

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

16°-29°

23

N

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

29°-12°

24

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

12°-25°

25

O

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

25°-8°

26

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

8°-21°

27

P

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

21°-4°

28

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

4°-17°

29

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

17°-30°

30

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

30°-13°

Table 1. The ‘Dodekatemoria scheme’ (‘DS’) with numbers converted to months and zodiac signs. The schematic position of the moon in the zodiac on each day for 13 per day of the 30-day months is shown in the far right column. Key: Aries E; Taurus F; Gemini G; Cancer H; Leo I; Virgo J; Libra K; Scorpio L; Sagittarius M; Capricorn N; Aquarius O; Pisces P. The moon changes sign every 2½ days.

4QZodiac Calendar In Relation To Babylonian Horoscopes

229

Table 2: 4QZodiac Calendar reconstructed with schematic lunar degrees of 13 per day added (far right column), based on the ‘dodekatemoria scheme’ (‘DS’) Key: Aries E; Taurus F; Gemini G; Cancer H; Leo I; Virgo J; Libra K; Scorpio L; Sagittarius M; Capricorn N; Aquarius O; Pisces P. The moon changes sign every 2½ days.

The texts are listed according to the BH text numeral, thus according to the age of the tablets.47 The data in Table 3 are raw and unsorted and simply show the position of the 13° degree range of the moon’s position on the dates in the ‘DS’ and 4Q318 that correspond with the dates in the cuneiform texts for the dates of birth. Col. 1 lists the BH Text number in their sequence; col. 2 lists the position of the moon in the zodiac in the horoscope birth-date, with the degree in the text (if given) and the computed degree; col. 3 lists the moon’s position on that date in the ‘DS’ according to Table 1; col. 4 lists the moon position on that date in the 4QZodiac Calendar, according to Table 2.

47

Rochberg, Babylonian Horoscopes, Text editions, 51-147.

Chapter Eleven

230 1 BH 5 8 9 10 12 13 14 15 16a 16b 17 18 19 20 21 22a 23 26 27

Col 2 Text birth date 23?/XII* April 24, 263 BCE 8/IX Nov 28/ 29, 251 BCE 2/X Dec 29, 249BCE 4/III June 2/3, 235 BCE 28/III July 2, 230 BCE 4/V July 29, 224 BCE 12/VII Oct 21, 220 BCE 9/XI Feb 4, 202 BCE 3/III June 5, 200 BCE 14/VII Oct 31, 199 BCE (19?)/VII Oct 20? 176 BCE* 6/XII March 1, 142 BCE 13/VI Sept 7, 140 BCE 24/V Aug 16, 126 BCE 22/VI Oct 1, 125 BCE 2/IV July 5, 117 BCE 9/X Jan 5, 88 BCE 25/26/V Sept 4, 76 BCE 20/I April 16, 69 BCE

Col 3 Moon’s degree for birth

Col 4 Dodekatemoria scheme

Col 5 4Q318

“10° Aquarius” {11°}

29° Sag–12° Cap

16°–29° Cap

27° Pisces {C}

14°–27° Pisces

1°–14° Aries

“12° Aquarius” {15°}

26° Cap–9° Aq

13°–26° Aq

6° Leo {C}

22° Can–5° Leo

9°–22° Virgo

2° Cancer {C}

4°–17° Gemini

21° Gem–4° Can

0° Libra {C}

22° Virgo–5° Libra

9°–22° Libra

8° Aries {C}

6°–19° Pisces

23° Pi–6° Aries

27° Taurus {C}

27° Tau–10° Gem

14°–27° Gemini

“15° Cancer” {29°}

9°–22° Cancer

26° Can–9° Leo

18° Taurus {C}

2°–15° Aries

19° Aries–2° Tau

14° Gemini {C}

7°–20° Gemini

24° Gem–7° Can

3° Gemini {C}

18° Tau–1° Gemini

5°–18° Gemini

3° Pisces {C}

19° Aq–2° Pisces

6°–19° Pisces

25° Gemini {C}

12°–25° Gemini

29° Ge–12° Can

16°–29° Gemini

3°–16° Cancer

“Beginning of Leo” {0°} 5° Virgo {C} “5° Taurus” {3°} 17° Leo {C} “18° Cap” {28°}

26° Gem–9° Cancer 27° Ar–10° Taurus 25° Gem–21° Cancer 20° Sag–3° Cap

13°–26° Leo 9°–27° Taurus 12°Can–8° Leo 20° Cap–3° Aq

Table 3: Converted lunar data in the Babylonian Horoscopes ordered according to tablet number (age: lowest numeral = oldest) compared to results in the ‘Dodekatemoria Scheme’ (‘DS’) and 4Q318 based on the day and month of horoscope birth date. Columns 4 and 5 show the moon’s position for the ‘DS’ and 4Q318 for the day of the month in BH texts (cols. 1-2) in comparison with the horoscope text data (col. 3). The curly brackets {C} indicate the data were not in the ancient text and have been computed by Rochberg (and the author): data in inverted commas are in the tablets. * The full date of the text is missing.

4QZodiac Calendar In Relation To Babylonian Horoscopes

231

The above comparisons in Table 3 show that some lunar data in the BH texts fall within range of the ‘DS’ (up to 5 texts) and others correspond with 4Q318 for the given days of the month in the horoscopes.48 In yet other tablets, the lunar data border both schemes by up to five degrees, the equivalent of a few hours, or are out of range by more than five degrees.49 To test my hypothesis that 4Q318 is an ideal calendar that may be of use for determining the position of the moon in the zodiac in some years in the 19-year cycle, particularly those following embolistic years (0º Taurus is the equivalent of 30 days behind the ‘DS’ which begins at 0º Aries), the data are now organised in order according to the time interval between the horoscope birth date and last previous date of intercalation: the Nearest Previous Intercalation Date (NPID). The time differences from the NPID, from about a month to nearly three years from the given date of birth (BH Birth Date, BHBD) have been reckoned using the online Babylonian and Seleucid tables.50 There is likely to be a few days’ error in the time difference because the month lengths of 29 and 30 days are in irregular sequences (for working purposes I have assumed all months have 30 days and prefixed the data below with ‘ca.’ to denote an approximation). It is possible that when the moon was not visible the Babylonian astronomer-astrologer would, theoretically, be able to ascertain the moon’s position from the date of the previous solstice or equinox. Rochberg found that the horoscope birth dates were never more than two months on either side of a solstice or an equinox, the date of which would be calculated in the Uruk scheme; the mantic significance of the solstice and equinox date (if any) is not known.51 The purpose of including the date of the solstice or equinox closest to the birth-date could be to enable the astrologer to know if the year was embolistic or not, and which kind of year, as outlined above. Therefore, they would be able to calculate the moon’s degree of the 48

BH text dates where the moon’s zodiac position falls within range of the ‘DS’ dates and lunar position are: nos. 8, 13, 15, 17, 23; text dates and lunar positions that fall within range of 4Q318 are: 9, 12, 16a, 27 (agreeing with text error). 49 BH text dates and lunar positions on the ‘cusp’ with both the ‘DS’ and 4Q318 are: 10, 14, 18, 19, 20. Out of range to both by more than 5 degrees: 5, 16b, 21, 22a, 26. 50 Chris Bennett, ‘Babylonian and Seleucid Dates’ at http://www.tyndalehouse.com/egypt/ptolemies/chron/babylonian/chron_bab_cal.ht m (last retrieved 30 August 2012). 51 Rochberg, BH, 43-44, Table 3.2. Babylonian Horoscopes e-book at http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=dSELAAAAIAAJ&printsec=frontcover#v=on epage&q&f=false (accessed 29 December 2012).

Chapter Eleven

232

zodiac with the aid of a schematic lunar zodiac calendar designed to give the moon’s ideal position on a given date. This hypothesis is now tested using the sample of Babylonian horoscopes. Col 1 BH text no. 5 8 9 10 12 13 14 15 16a

Col 2 BH Birth date (BHBD) 23?/XII* April 24, 263 BCE 8/IX Nov 28/ 29, 251 BCE 2/X Dec 29, 249BCE 4/III June 2/3, 235 BCE 28/III July 2, 230 BCE 4/V July 29, 224 BCE 12/VII Oct 21, 220 BCE 9/XI Feb 4, 202 BCE 3/III June 5, 200 BCE

Col 3

Col 4

Col 5

Col 6

NPID

Difference

Computed Time of Birth

BH. Ref.

March 24, 264 BCE

ca.1 year + 10 days.

March 22, 253 BCE

ca.2 yrs 8mths + 7 days

20 March 250 BC

ca.1 yr 9 mths + 9 days

(Ulnjlu II) 18 Sept 237 BCE

ca.1 yr 8mths + 5 days

March 20, 231 BCE

ca.1yr 4 mths 18 days

March 24, 226 BCE

ca.2 years, 4 mths + 5 days

March 18, 220 BCE

ca.7 months

March 21, 204 BCE

ca.1 yr 10 mths 17 days

March 17, 201 BCE

ca.1 yr 2 months 18 days

1am UT=4am BLT 4pm UT=7pm BLT 4pm UT=7pm BLT 1am UT=4am BLT 9am UT=noon BLT 6pm UT=9pm BLT 3am UT/ 6am BLT 4pm UT=7pm BLT 1.75 UT=4.45 am BLT

p.67 p.78 p.81 p.85 p.88 p.91 p.95 p.99 p.104

Table 4 (part 1): The Nearest Previous Intercalation Dates (NPID) (col. 3) and the Difference in time (col. 4) with the BH Birth Date (BHBD) (col. 2).

4QZodiac Calendar In Relation To Babylonian Horoscopes

233

Staying with unsorted data, Table 4 lists the date of birth in the horoscope texts, BHBD (cols 1, 2), as above with NPID (col. 3), the Difference in time between the BHBD and the NPID (col. 4), the Computed Time of the Birth using a sunset to sunset day count (col. 5), and the page reference in BH summarising each horoscope’s data (col. 6).52 Col 1 16b 17 18 19 20 21 22a 23 26 27

Col 2 14/VII Oct 31, 199 BCE (19?)/VII Oct 20? 176 BCE* 6/XII March 1, 142 BCE 13/VI Sept 7, 140 BCE 24/V Aug 16, 126 BCE 22/VI Oct 1, 125 BCE 2/IV July 5, 117 BCE 9/X Jan 5, 88 BCE 25/26/V Sept 4, 76 BCE 20/I April 16, 69 BCE

Col 3

Col 4

Col 5

Col 6

(Ulnjlu II) Sept 19, 199 BCE

ca.1 month and 12 days

3am UT=6am BLT

p.103

March 22, 177 BCE

ca.1 yr 7 mths

4pm UT=7pm BLT

p.107

17 March, 144 BCE

ca.1 yr 11 mths 16 days

3am UT=7am BLT

p.110

(Ulnjlu II) 18 Sept, 142 BCE

ca.1 yr 11 mths 18 days

4pm UT=7pm BLT

p.112

March 20, 128 BCE

ca.2 yrs 4 months 26 days

2am UT=5am BLT

p.115

March 17, 125 BCE

ca. 6 mths 13 days

2pm UT=4pm BLT

p.120

March 19, 117 BCE

ca. 3 mths 15 days

2pm UT=4pm BLT

p.124

March 21, 90 BCE

ca.1 yr 9mths 14 days

9pm UT=12am BLT

p.128

March 15, 76 BCE

ca.5 mths 19 days

7pm UT=10 pm BLT

p.136

March 21, 71 BCE

ca. 2 years 25 days

11.50am UT=2.30pm BLT

p.140

Table 4 (part 2): The Nearest Previous Intercalation Dates (NPID) (col. 3) and the Difference in time (col. 4) with the BH Birth Date (BHBD) (col. 2).

52

This makes a difference in the moon’s zodiac position and the Julian date. UT (Universal Time) is the equivalent to GMT (Greenwich Mean Time). Babylonian local time (BLT) has been computed for three hours ahead (appropriate to the time-zone east of Greenwich), BH, 23-5, 35-6. It will be of interest to readers who wish to compute the moon’s zodiac position and check the results with the next table.

234

Chapter Eleven

One would expect the moon’s position in the 4Q318 calendar to be behind its position for the corresponding date in the Babylonian Horoscopes (BH) texts soon after a month had been intercalated because the additional month would push the moon in 4QZodiac Calendar backwards. I shall term this situation ‘Easter late’, to make the idea easier to conceptualise by comparing the BH Birth Date to a ‘moveable feast’ echoing the familiar situation when Easter is late in the calendar (in April).53 Here, the default calendar is 4QZodiac Calendar. The opposite would be expected to be the case when an intercalary month was due and the moon had fallen behind the Qumran zodiac calendar, then 4Q318 should be one or two days ahead of the horoscope date for the same lunar position. This, I shall call an ‘Easter early’ situation because it is conceptually similar to when the date of Easter (representing the BH Birth Date in the 4Q318 calendar) is early (in March) because there has not been an intercalation in the Hebrew calendar for two years. In Table 5, Col. 1 gives the BH text number in the chronological order of the Nearest Previous Intercalation Date (NPID), with no. 1 representing the BH text with the most recent intercalation. Col. 2 lists the BH Birth Date, BHBD. Col. 3: the Moon’s Position in the Babylonian Horoscope (BHMP) for the day of birth. This is signified by {C} if the degree has been calculated with modern computation. In Col. 4, the Moon’s Position in 4Q318 (4Q318 MP) is compared with that of the BHBD and the number of days that the 4Q318 Calendar Date (CD) is behind or ahead of the BHMP is given. Col. 5, states the time in days (approximately), months and years from NPID. In Col. 6, two zodiac positions are itemised: a) the Calendar Date in 4QZodiac Calendar (4Q318 CD) corresponding with the BHBD and the 4Q318 MP; and in bold: b) the 4Q318 CD and 4Q318 MP corresponding with the BHMP. Finally, Col. 7 states the difference in degrees between the 4Q318 MP and the BHMP for the BHBD (Cols. 3 and 6).

53

The date of Easter is determined by the Hebrew, luni-solar calendar (although the Gregorian calendar is solar), for a concise history, see E. G. Richards, Mapping Time: The Calendar and its History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998, reprinted with corrections 2000), 345-353.

4QZodiac Calendar In Relation To Babylonian Horoscopes Col 1

Col 2

Col 3

BH Text no. in NPID order

BH Birth Date (BHBD)

BH Moon Position {modern computation} (BHMP)

14/VII

18°Taurus {C}

1. Text no.16b

2. Text no. 22a 3. Text no. 26 4. Text no. 21

Col 4 Dates of 4Q318 MP to BHBD

+2 days behind BHBD ‘Easter late’

2/IV

5°Virgo {C}

+1 day behind BHBD ‘Easter late’

25/V

17°Leo {C}

+2 days behind BHBD ‘Easter late’

22/VI

“Beginning of Leo” {0° Leo}

+1–2 days behind BHBD ‘Easter late’

5. Text no. 14

12/VII

8° Aries

+ 1 day behind BHBD ‘Easter late’

6. Text no. 5

[23]?/XII

“10°Aquarius”

+1 day behind?

3/III

“15°Cancer” {29°Can}

same day {computed value}

28/III

2°Cancer {C}

same day

(19?)/VII

14°Gemini {C}

-1 day before ‘Easter early’ (?)

7. Text no. 16a 8. Text no. 12 9. Text no. 17

235

Table 5: Zodiac position of the moon in BH (col. 3) compared to the Calendar Date (CD) in 4Q318 and Moon’s Position (MP) (col. 6) according to the Nearest Previous Intercalation Date (NPID) (col. 5).

Chapter Eleven

236 Col 1

Col 5

Col 6

Col 7

BH Text no. in NPID order

Distance from NPID

a. Same 4Q318 CD and MP. b. 4Q318 CD and same MP in bold

4Q318 MP/ BHMP difference in degrees on BHBD

c. 1.4 mths {Ululu II}

14/VII: 19° Aries– 2°Taurus; [16/VII: 15°– 28°Tau].

-16°

c. 3.5 mths

2/IV: 13°–26° Leo; [3/IV: 26° Leo–9°Vir ]

-9°

1. Text no. 16b 2. Text no. 22a 3. Text no. 26 4. Text no. 21

c. 5.6 mths c. 6.4 mths

25/V: 12°–25°Can. [27/V: 8°–21°Leo] 22/VI: 3°–16° Can; [23+24/VI: 16°–29° Cancer+ 29° Can–12° Leo]

-23° -14°

5. Text no. 14

c. 7 mths

23°Pi–6°Aries [13/VII: 6°–19° Aries ]

-2°

6. Text no. 5

c. 1 year

[23]?: 16°–29° Cap [24/XII: 16°Cap–12°Aq]

-11°?

c. 14.6 mths

3/III: 26°Can–9°Leo (Error: 2/III: 13°–26° Can)

c. 16.6 mths

28/III: 21° Gem–4° Can

c. 19 mths

19?/VII. 24°Gem–7°Can [18/VII: 11°–24°Gem]

7. Text no. 16a 8. Text no. 12 9. Text no. 17

Table 5, continued.

{–14° error} {C}Agree 4Q318 Agree 4Q318 (+ 10?) Agrees with DS

4QZodiac Calendar In Relation To Babylonian Horoscopes

Col 2

Col 3

Col 4

BH Birth Date (BHBD)

BH Moon Position {modern computation} (BHMP)

10. Text no. 10

4/III

6°Leo {C}

-1 day before ‘Easter early’

11. Text no. 9

2/X

“12°Aquarius” {15° Aq}

(Error: +3°} same day {computed}

9/X

“5°Taurus” {3°Tau}

-1 day before ‘Easter early’

9/XI

“end of Taurus” 27°Taurus {C}

-2 days before ‘Easter early’ (DS)

14. Text no. 18

6/XII

3° Gemini{C}

-1 day before ‘Easter early’

15. Text no. 19

13/VI

3° Pisces{C}

-1 day before ‘Easter early’

16. Text no. 27

20/I

“18° Cap” {28° C}

4/V

0° Libra {C}

24/V

25° Gemini{C}

8/IX

27° Pisces {C}

Col 1 BH Text no. in NPID order

12. Text no. 23 13. Text no. 15

17. Text no. 13 18. Text no. 20 19. Text no. 8

Table 5, continued.

Dates of 4Q318 MP to BHBD

same day with error +1 day ahead {C} ‘Easter late’ -1 day before ‘Easter early’ -1 day before ‘Easter early’ -1 day before ‘Easter early’

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238 Col 1 BH Text no. in NPID order 10. Text no. 10

Col 5

Col 6

Col 7

Distance from NPID

a. Same 4Q318 CD and MP. b. 4Q318 CD and same MP in bold

4Q318 MP/ BHMP difference in degrees on BHBD

c. 20 mths {Ululu II}

4/III: 9° to 22°Leo [3/ III: 26°Can–9°Leo]

Borders both DS and 4Q318

11. Text no. 9

c. 21 mths

12. Text no. 23

c. 21.5 mths

9/X 14°–27°Taurus; [8/X: 1°–14°Taurus].

Agrees with DS

13. Text no. 15

c. 22.6 mths

9/XI: 14°–27° Gemini [7/XI: 14°Gem–27°Tau]

+ 13°. Agrees with DS

6/XII: 5°–18°Gem [5/XII: 22°Tau–5°Gem]

Border with both DS and 4Q318

13/VI: 6°–19°Pisces [12/VI: 23°Aq–6°Pi]

Border with both DS and 4Q318

14. Text no. 18 15. Text no. 19

c. 23.5 mths {Ululu II} c. 23.6 mths {Ululu II}

2/X: 13°Aq–26°Aq

16. Text no. 27

c. 24.8 mths

20/I: 7°–20°Cap [21/I: 20°Cap–3°Aq]

17. Text no. 13 18. Text no. 20 19. Text no. 8

c. 28 months

4/V: 9°–22°Lib [3/V: 26°Vir– 9°Lib] 24/V: 29°Gem–12°Can [23/V: 16°–29°Gem] 8/IX: 1°–14°Aries [7/IX: 18°Pi -1°Aries]

c. 29 mths c. 32 months

Agree 4Q318

(4Q318 agrees with – 10° text error) + 9°. Agrees with DS + 4°. Agrees with DS + 3°. Agrees with DS

Table 5, continued.

The pattern that emerges is that up to about a year from the NPID, the moon’s position in 4Q318 can be one or two days behind the dates of birth for the corresponding lunar zodiacal position in the Babylonian Horoscopes.54 Between a year to two years from the NPID, the 4Q318 MP and the BHMP fall on the same days of the month; after about 15 months 54

Nos. 1-6: BH: 16b, 22a, 26, 21, 14, 5 (date uncertain).

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from the NPID, the date of the BHMP can agree with the MP in the ‘DS’ dates as well as the 4Q318 CD, or it may border either text.55 The exception is (No. 16) BH Text no. 27, which agrees with 4Q318 in the text, but according to modern computation is -10° in error, discussed below. Finally, when the BHBD is more than two years from the NPID it agrees with the MP on those same dates in the ‘DS’.56 I will now look at a selection of BH texts in more depth in order to illustrate my hypothesis that 4Q318 is useable as an ideal calendar. (No. 4) Text 21 (BM 33018): 22 Ulnjlu (Month VI), Year 127 S.E =1 October, 125 BCE. The moon was in “the beginning of Leo”.57 NPID: c. 6.4 mths. BH computation: moon: 00° Leo, sun: 10° Libra. The text states that the child was born in the 11th hour (c. 5pm), the moon was at the beginning of Leo (“in the head of the Lion” = Normal Star e Leonis) in the hour of the birth (obv. 4) and the sun was in Libra (obv. 4) (no degree given). The BH text states twice that the moon was at 24° Cancer before sunrise on 22 Ulnjlu (obv. 3, rev. 6) and at 9° Leo before sunrise on the following day, 23 Ulnjlu (rev. 6–7). Therefore, if the ideal lunar motion is 1° per two hours, the moon could be in the early degrees of Leo at the sunset. (The lunar motion would be fast, with the moon travelling about 15° in 24 hours). 4Q318: 22 Elul: 3°–16° Cancer BH has computed for 5pm, well before the third-quarter moon could have risen. (The date, the 22nd, informs us of the moon’s phase). Therefore, at sunset, the border of the next day, 23 Elul, the moon’s position in the zodiac in 4Q318 is at 16° Cancer. This is approximately 14° behind the text: 00° Leo (computed) (00° Leo –16° Cancer = 14°). Fourteen degrees is the equivalent to about one day. According to my hypothesis, it would be expected that the Moon’s Position (MP) would be a day after the MP in 4Q318 (‘Easter late’) because the moon is one day ahead in the Babylonian calendar due to the recent intercalation, about 6½ months previously (NPID).

55 Nos. 7-9, 4Q318: BH 16a, 12; Nos. 10-15, 4Q318 and ‘DS’: BH 17, 10, 9, 23, 15, 18, 19. 56 Nos. 17-19, ‘DS’: BH 13, 20, 8. 57 Rochberg, BH, 117-20; Rochberg-Halton, ‘Babylonian seasonal hours’, Centaurus 32 .2 (1989): 153-60.

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(No. 7) Text 16a (W.20030/10 rev)58 3 Simanu (Month III), 113 S.E = June 5, 200 BCE, the last part of the night [before sunrise]. Moon, 15º Cancer, sun is in Gemini (no degree given). NPID: c. 14.6 mths. BH computation for 4.45 am local time is moon: 29º Cancer, sun: 15º Gemini. Lunar degree error in text of –14°. The lunar data in Text 16a (15º Cancer) agrees with moon’s position in the ‘DS’ (Sivan 3: 9º–22º Cancer). The moon would not have been visible when the child was born because it was before sunrise and it would have been an invisible crescent below the horizon (14° from conjunction). However, by modern computation the lunar position in Text 16a was 29° Cancer, thus agreeing with the 4Q318 for the same day of the month (3 Sivan: 26° Can-9° Leo). Hence, after about a year from an intercalation, there is a same day correspondence between 4Q318 and the BH (just over 14½ months from an intercalation {NPID}). (No. 11) Text 959 (NCBT 1231 Anu-bƝl-šunu: born in the evening of (?) 2 TebƝtu (Month X), 63 S.E.= 29 December, 249 BCE The text states that the moon is at 12° Aquarius and the sun at 9.30° Capricorn (line 3, obv.).60 NPID: c. 1 yr, 9m 9d. BH computation, December 29, 249 B.C.E, 7pm: moon: 15º Aquarius, sun 12º Capricorn. There is a lunar degree error of 3° in the text. Text 9 is a famous text: the horoscope of a well-known court scribe and astrologer, Anu-bƝl-šunu, from his own collection in third century BCE, Uruk. The moon’s position by modern computation, 15° Aquarius, is three degrees behind the text’s data. Modern computation agrees with 4Q318 (13°–26° Aq). There is thus a correspondence between the data in 4Q318 and the horoscope using modern computation, some 21 months from an intercalation (NPID). (No. 16) Text 2761 (BM 3104) is precisely dated to the 9th hour of 20 Nisannu (Month I), 243 S.E. = April 16, 69 BCE, 2.30 pm, Babylonian local time. The moon’s zodiac degree in the text is 18º Capricorn, the sun: 30º Aries.

58

Rochberg, BH, 100-104. Rochberg, BH, 79-81; P-A Beaulieu and F. Rochberg. ‘The Horoscope of AnuBƝlšunu’, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 48 (1996): 89-94, esp. 91, 92. 60 Other texts giving fractions of solar degrees are also from Uruk: Texts 5.3 and 10.3: Rochberg, BH, 80. 61 Rochberg, BH, 137-40; Rochberg-Halton, ‘Babylonian Seasonal Hours’, 160162. 59

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NPID: c. 2 yr 25 d; BH calculation: moon: 28º Capricorn, sun 28º Aries. There is a lunar zodiac degree error of -10° in the text. The moon would not have been at all observable at this time (it is a third-quarter moon, which would not rise until late at night). According to the computed error (18º Capricorn in the text instead of 28º Capricorn by modern computation) in the text, 4Q318 would have had a same-day agreement with the BHMP (4Q318: 20 Nisan: 7º–20º Capricorn at sunset) [i.e.: 4Q318 agrees with the text, which according to modern computation has an error of 10º]. Although Text 27 has a 2 year-plus NPID, modern computation places the moon in its stated position about 20 hours later (approximately equivalent to 10º) in an ‘Easter late’ position with respect to the Qumran text (4Q318, 21 Nisan: 21° Cap– 3° Aq). The birth-date is less than a year from the next intercalation on 17 March 68 BCE, so the moon has not slipped behind the calendar.62 This finding would suggest that the ideal calendar of 4Q318 has a wider margin of error in some years.63 On the other hand, the large error by the ancient astrologer also requires some explanation. Finally, Table 6, below, places the above data in a bar-chart format, aligning the dates that the moon is in the same zodiac sign or thereabouts in 4Q318 in relation to the horoscope dates. The chart is arranged beginning with the most recent intercalation date NPID in descending chronological order. Dates that the moon’s ideal position in 4Q318 progress from +2 days ahead to -2 days behind the calendar of the Babylonian horoscopes are expressed by darkening shades of grey. It begins with the lightest: for +2 days ahead, (No.1) BH Text no. 16b.

Summary of Table 6 The Table shows that there was a +2 day ‘Easter late’ result with BH Texts 16b, 26 and 21. The NPID respectively for those horoscopes were about: 1.4 months; 5.6 months; and 6.4 months earlier.

62

Chris Bennett, ‘Babylonian and Seleucid Dates’. The ‘DS’ is 2-3 days behind (at 22-23 Nisan, commencing at 20° Sagittarius on 20 Nisan). Thus, this text does not conform to the general pattern. 63

Chapter Eleven

242 Text 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

BH Text no. 16b 22a 26 21 14 5 16a 12 17 10 9 23 15 18 19 27 13 20 8

Behind (“Easter

+2 days Late

Behind late”)

Same Date

Ahead (“Easter

{C}

(error)

{C}

(error)

+1 day Late

0 Same date

-1 day Early

Ahead early”)

-2 days Early

Table 6: 4Q318 dates according zodiac position of moon in BH.

There was a +1 day ‘Easter late’ result with BH Texts 22a and 14. The NPID respectively for those horoscopes were about: 3.8 months and 7 months earlier. (BH Text 27, discussed above does not follow the same pattern and is problematic). There was a same-date correspondence with BH Texts 5, 16a, 12, and 9. The NPID for those horoscopes were about 1 year; 14.6 months; 15 months and 21 months earlier. (The astronomer-astrologer made an error with BH Text 16a, noted above). There was a -1 day ‘Easter early’ correspondence with BH Texts 17, 10, 23, 18, 19, 13, 20 and 8. The NPID respectively for those horoscopes were about 19 months; 20 months; 21.5 months; 23.5 months; 23.6 months; 28 months; 29 months; and 32 months earlier. There was a -2 day ‘Easter early’ result for BH Text 15 where the NPID was about 22.6 months earlier. The last intercalation prior to the

4QZodiac Calendar In Relation To Babylonian Horoscopes

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NPID for BH Text 15 (BM 36796) was nearly three years’ beforehand.64 The horoscope date was just seven weeks from the next calendrical intercalation. The key factor in this comparative exercise was that degrees were superimposed onto 4QZodiac Calendar, thereby permitting a closer examination of the relationship between the ideal scheme in the Qumran text and the Seleucid calendar in the Babylonian horoscopes. It was pointed out that, in Rochberg’s opinion, ephemerides were employed in the Babylonian horoscopes that contained the zodiacal degrees of the sun, moon and planets, but that the form of these tables was unknown. It has been demonstrated here that some of the lunar birth-time data in the Babylonian horoscopes could have been extracted from ideal 360-day zodiac calendars. This suggestion does not rule out the premise that a range of different sources was used to compile the data collected in all these horoscope texts, particularly as the tablets were composed at later dates, sometimes years subsequent to the birth event.65 It has been shown here that in 18 of 19 texts examined, the lunar zodiacal position can be calibrated from the ideal schematic calendars to within a few degrees when related to the distance in time from the last intercalation. In one case (No. 7) BH Text 16a, 4QZodiac Calendar agreed better with modern computation than the ancient astrologer’s calculations. Yet in another tablet, (No. 16) BH Text 27, the reverse was the case: the ancient astrologer’s calculations agreed with the ideal calendar of 4Q318, but according to modern computation both were in error. As far as the Qumran brontologion is concerned all that was required to make the prognostication was the date that the thunderclap occurred, giving the moon’s zodiac sign. The results shown above would suggest that in order to achieve this, the user would still need a knowledge of the specific sequences of intercalation, whatever they were for 4Q318, but it would not be necessary to calculate the degree of the moon in the zodiac. (Unlike a horoscope, the position of the moon in the brontologion has no mantic relationship to the five classical planets and its angle from the sun is known from the calendar date, as well as by its shape, so it is not necessary to state the degrees of the sun and moon in the text). In summary, the 360-day ideal calendars of 4QZodiac Calendar and the ‘Dodekatemoria scheme’, although ideal, have a relationship with a 64

9/XI (9th of the 11th month) SE (Seleucid era) 109= 4 February 202 BCE. The NPID was 21 March 204 BCE, and the previous NPID was 24 March 207 BCE. 65 Rochberg, Heavenly Writing, 105; Beaulieu and Rochberg, ‘Horoscope of AnuBƝlšunu’, 90.

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version of the 19-year cycle of the standard Babylonian calendar. All but one of the horoscopes produced a pattern of results that one would expect if those lunar zodiac calendar schemes were based on a cycle of regular intercalation. The results support Britton’s contention that the 360-day calendar is self-regulating (by virtue of the 19-year cycle).66 As predicted, 4Q318 appears to be an ideal zodiac calendar biased towards dates about one year to two years after an intercalation has taken place. If it were to be used for the brontologion, the user would need to know the sequences of regular intercalations and the last previous intercalation date as determined by the date of the nearest solstice or equinox in order to obtain the correct results. The tablets reflecting the Uruk scheme show such data. If that knowledge was in place, it should be possible to use the ideal calendar of 4Q318 for the appropriate years for omens where all that was needed for a prediction was the moon’s sign of the zodiac on a given date in the zodiac calendar. It has also been shown that 4Q318 is related to the 360-day Late Babylonian ‘Dodekatemoria Scheme’. Brack-Bernsen and Steele suggest that the ‘Dodekatemoria Scheme’ was “meant to be astrologically convenient rather than astronomically accurate”.67 I would add that, if the last previous intercalation dates were taken into account there might have been more than one version of the scheme as an arithmetical aid, such as the Aramaic calendar found at Qumran. The basic paradigm could possibly have been used in slightly different formats to obtain the ideal lunar zodiacal position for different luni-solar years in the 360-day year calendar. If no such scheme is discovered among other cuneiform texts, then we may suggest from its find spot that 4QZodiac Calendar was a possible Jewish adaptation of a Babylonian zodiac calendar text. It is apparent that 4QZodiac Calendar is a variant of the late Babylonian 360day zodiac calendar which is connected with the 19-year cycle of the 354/384-day Babylonian calendar standardised in the fifth century BCE. The main point of this very detailed exercise has been to demonstrate that 4QZodiac Calendar is closely connected with late Babylonian astrology and that it is a useable zodiac calendar. To achieve a wide span of predicted results in a small, varied sample suggests that this is a fruitful area of research.68

66

Britton, ‘Calendars, Intercalations and Year Lengths’, 117, as noted above. Brack-Bernsen and Steele, ‘Babylonian Mathemagics’, 104. 68 Please note this chapter has been published in a slightly different form in: H. R. Jacobus, Zodiac Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Their Reception. Ancient Astronomy and Astrology in Early Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 83-91, 99-115. 67

CHAPTER TWELVE ETERNITY IN AN HOUR: THE ASTRONOMICAL SYMBOLISM OF THE ERA AS THE MAYA AGRICULTURAL YEAR MICHAEL J. GROFE

Abstract This paper considers the evidence that multiple deep time intervals in Maya hieroglyphic texts incorporated precise astronomical calculations of solar, lunar, and planetary movements, with a substantial emphasis on the measurement of the sidereal year and its ability to shift the seasonal position of the sun among the stars. In addition, these texts suggest that the mythological significance of numerous Maya deep time events derives from the symbolic progression of the agricultural year, while New Year's rituals among various Maya groups similarly reflect the renewals of larger cosmological cycles. This paper will explore the evidence for how the Maya may have variously interpreted these deep time events, as well as the role of the epigrapher as both a storyteller and an interpreter of the recent 13 Bak'tun completion in 2012.

Introduction Misconceptions of Classic Maya mythology often myopically oversimplify it as a monolithic narrative. This is reinforced both by authors writing for a popular audience as well as by archaeologists and epigraphers, and it is especially evident surrounding the recent circulation of information and misinformation concerning the completion of the 13 Bak’tun cycle in December of 2012. Many authors attempt to divine significance from literal or figurative interpretations of a singular myth, projecting onto the Maya their own inherited millenarian ideas of apocalypse, enlightenment, or transformation, without acknowledging the multiplicity of narratives in Mesoamerican mythology and the different ways these stories may have been interpreted.

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As both John Hoopes1 and John Carlson have discussed, the millenarian roots of what Nicholas Campion has called the ‘Maya Prophecy Movement’ can be traced to the speculations and interpretations of reputable archaeologists themselves.2,3 Ernst Förstemann, who was the first to determine that the Dresden Codex contains extensive calendrical and astronomical information, was also the first in 1906 to interpret page 74 of the Dresden Codex (Fig. 1) as a flood scene depicting the ‘end of the world’.4 In 1915, and later in 1946, Sylvanus Morley echoed this interpretation, citing references to Maya flood stories found in 16th century colonial accounts of Diegode Landa.5 Referencing similar accounts of an apocalyptic flood from the colonial Yucatec Book of Chilam Balam of Tizimin, astronomer Maude Makemson in 1951 first interpreted the termination of the Maya Long Count cycle of 13 Bak’tuns as a prophecy about the end of the world, though she used a flawed correlation that placed this date in 1752 AD.6 While she was unaware of any text reference to this putative end date, Makemson extrapolated her interpretation from the more widely recognized mythological completion of an earlier era of 13 Bak’tuns that inaugurated the historical Long Count on the date 4 Ajaw 8 Kumk’u, a back-calculated date that is clearly commemorated on

1

John Hoopes, ‘A critical history of 2012 mythology’, in Archaeoastronomy and Ethnoastronomy: Building Bridges between Cultures, ed. Clive L. Ruggles (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 240–248. Also see J. Hoopes, ‘New Age Sympathies and Scholarly Complicity: The History and Promotion of 2012 Mythology’, Archaeoastronomy: The Journal of Astronomy in Culture 24 (2011): 183-205. 2 John Carlson, ‘Anticipating the Maya Apocalypse: What Might the Ancient DayKeepers Have Envisioned for December 21, 2012?’, Archaeoastronomy: The Journal of Astronomy in Culture 24 (2011b): 143-182. 3 Nicholas Campion, ‘The 2012 Mayan calendar prophecies in the context of the western millenarian tradition’, in Archaeoastronomy and Ethnoastronomy: Building Bridges between Cultures, ed. Clive L. Ruggles (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 249-254. 4 Ernst Förstemann, Commentary on the Maya manuscripts in the Royal Public Library of Dresden (Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum, 1906), 266. 5 Hoopes, ‘A critical history of 2012 mythology’, traces the first association between the Dresden Flood scene and Maya flood stories from De Landa to Sylvanus G. Morley, ‘An Introduction to the Study of the Maya Hieroglyphs’, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 57 (Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1915), and to S. G. Morley, The Ancient Maya (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, 1946). 6 Maude Makemson, The Book of the Jaguar Priest (New York: Schuman, 1951).

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Fig. 1: ‘Flood Scene’ from f Dresden Codex, p. 74;; image from FAMSI photographh.

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Quirigua Stela C (Fig. 2).7

Fig. 2: Quirigua Stela C, showing back-calculated Era base date 4 Ajaw 8 Kumk’u; drawing courtesy of Matthew Looper.

Using the currently accepted Goodman-Martinez-Thompson correlation, this era base date corresponds with either the 11th or 13th of August 3114 BCE, thereby placing the subsequent 13 Bak’tun completion on either the 21st or 23rd of December in 2012. While there are multiple references to 7

The Long Count is a chronological, positional count of days that counts forward from mythical era base in 3114 BCE using units of days known by epigraphers as K’ins, 20-day periods known as Winals, 360-day Tuns, 20 Tun periods known as K’atuns, and 400 Tun periods, known as Bak’tuns. This system interlocks with the pan-Mesoamerican Calendar Round, which is an interlocking cycle of the 260-day Tzolk’in (composed of a cycle of 13 numbers and a cycle of 20 named days) and the 365-day Haab (composed of 18 Winals of 20 days each, plus a 5-day period). Long Count dates are typically written out in linear fashion such that an example of a historical date could be stated as 9.4.10.8.17, 7 Kaban 5 K’ayab, which would be the Tzolk’in day 7 Kaban and the Haab date 5 K’ayab, precisely 9 Bak’tuns, 4 K’atuns, 10 Tuns, 8 Winals, and 17 K’ins after the era base, given as on 13.0.0.0.0, 4 Ajaw 8 K’umku on Quirigua Stela C, and throughout the Classic period inscriptions.

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the era base date in 3114 BCE, there are only two known definitive references to the completion of the next 13 Bak’tuns in 2012—one from Tortuguero Monument 6, and another from a hieroglyphic staircase in La Corona, and neither of these texts describe any cataclysmic flood.8 However, various references to cosmogonic flood stories do appear throughout Mesoamerica, and this paper demonstrates how these stories symbolize the onset of the summer rainy season.

Flood Myths in Mesoamerica As Hoopes reveals, archaeologist Michael Coe was the first to associate the 13 Bak’tun completion in 2012 with the destruction of a fifth world age in his first edition of The Maya in 1966 and continuing in the 8th edition, published in 2011.9 However, Coe himself conflates Maya mythology with Aztec accounts from La Leyenda de los Soles that describe the creation and destruction of five suns, including a previous age that was destroyed by a great flood. While presenting extensive evidence for the ways in which Maya mythology has been severely misinterpreted, Hoopes suggests that post-colonial Maya accounts of a universal flood were introduced by Christian missionaries, and that they are merely projections of Western millenarian anxieties and beliefs that have little or nothing to do with indigenous Maya beliefs.10 However, this exclusive emphasis on a singular diffusion from Christian sources tends to obscure and avoid the additional possibility of structural parallels and a more complex understanding of Mesoamerican eschatology in general. One effect of this argument is that it reinforces the belief in the incommensurability of Maya mythology with any other tradition. While it is certainly important to critique inaccurate interpretations of pre-contact Mesoamerican beliefs, it is equally important to explore and articulate their diversity, their uniformity, and what they may share with other world traditions.

8

David Stuart, ‘Notes on a New Text from La Corona’, in ‘Maya Decipherment: A Weblog on the Ancient Maya Script’, http://decipherment.wordpress.com/2012/06/30/notes-on-a-new-text-from-lacorona/ (accessed 30 June 2012). 9 Hoopes, ‘A critical history of 2012 mythology’, 242. 10 Hoopes, ‘New Age Sympathies’, 187.

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Following Fernando Horcasitas,11 Carlson acknowledges the abundant evidence for pre-colonial flood narratives in Central Mexico, and he suggests that some of the later post-contact Maya flood stories must have necessarily diffused from this source in the Postclassic, if not from syncretization with Christian sources.12 However, if these Maya versions of the deluge do indeed originate in Central Mexico, recent evidence suggests that this diffusion had to have occurred much earlier. Alternatively, it is quite possible that there was a more widely shared flood story with many local versions told throughout the history of Mesoamerica.

Chaoskampf and the Maya Flood Myth from Palenque Temple XIX Given the presence of flood myths found throughout the world, as well as attested versions from Mesoamerica, we might not be surprised to find some type of story of a deluge among the Maya.13 Indeed, what both Hoopes and Carlson overlook is an original hieroglyphic Maya text that is a clear antecedent to the documented history of parallel flood myths found throughout Mesoamerica. As David Stuart, Gerardo Aldana and Erik Velasquez Garcia have each illustrated, the hieroglyphic text from a bench found in Temple XIX in Palenque, dated to the eighth century AD, refers back to events prior to the era base of the Long Count.14 While there is clearly no reference to 2012 in this text, it describes the division or ‘chopping’ in half of a primordial caiman deity into celestial and terrestrial components (Fig. 3). Following this division, the text mentions a flood of blood and the lighting of a fire. All of these elements are present in ethnographic flood narratives from both the Aztec and Maya, while this 11

Fernando Horcasitas, ‘An Analysis of the Deluge Myth in Mesoamerica’, in The Flood Myth, ed. Alan Dundes (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 183-219. 12 Carlson, ‘Anticipating the Maya Apocalypse’: 171. 13 See Alan Dundes, ed., The Flood Myth (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988). 14 David Stuart, The Inscriptions from Temple XIX at Palenque (San Francisco: Pre-Columbian Art Research Institute, 2005). In a personal communication (2012), Stuart noted that his 2005 work was based on an earlier manuscript from 1999; Gerardo Aldana, Oracular Science: Uncertainty in the History of Maya Astronomy 500-1600 (PhD dissertation, 2001, Harvard University); Erik Velasquez Garcia, ‘The Maya Flood Myth and the Decapitation of the Cosmic Caiman’, PARI Journal 7, no. 1 (2006): 1-10.

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pattern doess not conform to the biblical narrative fouund in Genesis. Rather, this cosmoggonic Mesoam merican story of o the divisionn of a primord dial being more closelly parallels thhe Babylonian story from m the Enuma Elish, in which the hhero Marduk divides d the prrimordial Tiam mat into the earth and the sky.

Fig. 3: Divvision of the ceelestial caiman n, South Platforrm, PAL Temp ple XIX, E2–F6, CH H’AK-u-ba ‘it was w chopped’ at E3; drawing byy author.

Hermann G Gunkel originally proposed d that this chhaoskampf motif m first appears in thhe Enuma Eliish, and that elements e of thhis theme difffused into the Hebrew Bible.15 How wever, the striiking parallel of this themee is more 15

Hermann G Gunkel and Hienrich Zimmerrn, Schöpfung uund Chaos in Urzeit U und Endzeit: einee religionsgeschhichtliche Unteersuchung überr Gen 1 und Ap A Joh 12 (Göttingen: V Vandenhoeck unnd Ruprecht, 18 895).

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immediately evident in Mesoamerican cosmologies than it is in the Old Testament. Lest we invoke the hyper-diffusionist ideas of panBabylonianism to explain these similarities, we can perhaps more simply attribute these mythological parallels to structural perceptions and constructions of the human mind. As John Walton proposes, we might better understand this particular kind of chaoskampf theme within the larger framework of theomachy as a divine struggle to bring about order from the ever-recurring threat of disorder.16 The slaying of Tiamat in the Enuma Elish results in a cosmogonic event, which Walton sees as a relatively rare form of the chaoskampf theme, though he relates the theme of theomachy in its many microcosmic forms to the recurrence of seasonal cycles of fertility, and the need to reassert political and social order. Certainly, the Mesoamerican tradition of the slaying of a primordial beast results in a similar cosmogony. Likewise, we will find that this macrocosmic creation event reflects the microcosmic progression of the rainy season in Mesoamerica, and these myths were ritually reenacted during agricultural rites of intensification.

The Structure of Mesoamerican Flood Myths Alfredo López-Austin asserts that, within the diversity of cultural forms in Mesoamerica, there exists a distinct, profound religious tradition whose core elements continuously resist historical change.17 This tradition manifests in the expressions of different cultures throughout time, while each of these component cultures experiences varying historical pressures, interactions and degrees of change. He writes: This description of unity as a historical fact with different degrees of resistance to change, and the importance of variations in time and space, allow us to approach the historical problem of Mesoamerican religion in a more appropriate way.18

16 John H. Walton, ‘Creation in Genesis 1:1–2:3 and the Ancient Near East: Order out of Disorder after Chaoskampf’, Calvin Theological Journal 43 (2008):48-63. 17 Alfredo Lopez Austin, Tamoanchan, Tlalocan: Places of Mist (Niwot: University Press of Colorado, 1994). 18 López Austin, Tamoanchan, 5-6.

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Following López Austin, we can establish that Mesoamerican flood narratives contain repeating common elements that include some or all of the following structural parallels: x x x x x x x x x

Division of a primordial caiman by twin deities Separation of earth and sky (Milky Way) Eclipse Flood Igniting fire Three hearthstones Erection of cosmic trees Growth of maize/humanity Reunification of the earth and sky by the actions of humanity/kings

Transcribed from a now lost original 16th Century manuscript, the Histoyre du Mechique tells of a Central Mexican story in which the two deities Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl tear apart the monstrous earth monster Tlaltecuhtli, elsewhere named Cipactli, by transforming themselves into two serpents. One half of her body becomes the earth, while the other half is lifted into the sky.19 In a parallel version of this myth from the Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas, Tlaltecuhtli is said to be another name for a monstrous caiman named Cipactli, whose painted body forms the earth.20 In this version, Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl transform into two trees that lift the sky. They then made the Milky Way as a road across the sky on which the two met and traveled, and on which they were seated. Tezcatlipoca is then said to have transformed into Mixcoatl, the ‘Cloud Serpent’ deity of the Milky Way itself. As this being, he lit the first fire using flint stones in the form of three sticks ‘with a heart’, thus providing fire to humanity.21 These themes of the division of the primordial caiman, the Milky Way, and lighting the first fire are similarly evident in parallel stories from the Classic period Maya lowlands. Taube notes that the Tlaltecuhtli myth was clearly present in the

19

Angel M. Garibay, Teogonia e Historia de los Mexicanos: Tres Opusculos del Sieglo XVI (México, D.F.: Editorial Porrúa, 1965):108; Karl Taube, Aztec and Maya Myths: The Legendary Past (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1995), 3637. 20 Garibay, Teogonia, 25, 26. Page 29 of the original manuscript states: ‘Después, estando todos cuatro dioses juntos, hicieron del peje Cipactli la tierra, a la cual dijeron Tlaltecutli, y píntalo como dios de la tierra…’. 21 Garibay, Teogonia, 32-33.

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Yucatan, and found throughout Mesoamerica.22 From the Colonial Yucatec Maya Chilam Balam of Maní, we find a similar version of the story: Oxlahun ti Ku [the Thirteen Gods] and Bolon ti Ku [the Nine Gods] created the world and life; there was also born Itzam Cab Ain [Iguana Earth Crocodile]. [Ah Mesencab] turned the sky and the Petén upside down, and Bolon ti Ku raised up Itzam Cab Ain; there was a great cataclysm, and the ages ended with a flood. The 18 Bak Katún was being counted and in its seventeenth part. Bolon ti Ku refused to permit Itzam Cab Ain to take the Petén and to destroy the things of the world, so he cut the throat of Itzam Cab Ain and with his body formed the surface of Petén.23

In the Chilam Balam of Chumayel, we find that Bolon ti K’u placed the head of the monster in the sky, which is what brought about the flood. Velasquez notes that both the Chilam Balam of Maní and the Chilam Balam of Tizimin mention an eclipse that preceded this flood, and he suggests that this may relate to the eclipse glyphs of the sun and moon depicted in the flood scene from page 74 of the Dresden Codex. Here, floodwaters stream downward from both of these glyphs, and from the gaping mouth of an oddly inverted caiman that descends from a sky band, representing the ecliptic.

The Severed Jaw of the Caiman Following the division of the primordial Tlaltecuhtli in the Histoyre du Mechique, we are told that from her back emerge all of the fruits of the earth, and that she requires sacrificial blood in return—perhaps because she is unable to eat on her own in that she lacks a lower jaw. Curiously, deified caimans in Mesoamerican art are often depicted with their lower jaw removed, such as in the roof-comb of the Temple of the Cross in Palenque (Fig. 4), as well as in the Postclassic Central Mexican Codex Borgia, where a jawless Cipactli appears with maize emerging from its back (Fig. 5).

22

Taube, Aztec and Maya Myths, 37, 69. Eugene R. Craine and Reginald C. Reindorp, The Codex Pérez and the Book of Chilam Balam of Maní (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1979), 117-118, brackets in original.

23

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Fig. 4: Celeestial caiman laacking a lower jaw. Roof com mb of the Temple of the Cross, Palennque; drawing by Linda Schelle; © 2000 Davvid Schele and FAMSI. F

wless Cipactli caiman c with maize m growing from her back k, Codex Fig. 5: Jaw Borgia, p. 227; image from FAMSI photog graph.

In the text ffrom Palenquee Temple XIX X, one half off the caiman is clearly identified w with a skeletal jaw, known to represent ccenotes as enttrances to the underwoorld. The otheer half is described as tz’ibaal, ‘painted/w written’ or ‘spotted’, peerhaps reflectting images off celestial caiimans with th heir backs inscribed thhat are knownn to represent the starry nigght sky and the t Milky 2 Way, as Stuuart proposes.24 Another rep presentation o f the skeletal jaw from the sarcophaagus of K’inich Janaab Pak kal in Palenqu que (Fig. 6) deepicts the cruciform im mage of a ceibba tree emergiing above the jaw. On the top t of the tree sits the saurian Princcipal Bird Deiity with his loower jaw rem moved and replaced by a glyph that reads r CH’ICH H’—‘blood’— —beneath which h hangs a twisted cordd. Matthew Loooper identifiies this cord aas a cosmic umbilicus, u symbolized among conttemporary Yu ucatec by thee vertical utá áab’al ‘e ká’an, the ‘drawstring off the sky’, a ritual vine ussed to transpo ort blood, 24

Stuart, The Inscriptions froom Temple XIX X.

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rain and sustenance from the sky to the earth while also transmitting prayers to the heavens at the zenith.25

Fig. 6: Detail of elements from sarcophagus of K’inich Janaab Pakal, Palenque, Temple of the Inscriptions; drawing by Linda Schele; © 2000 David Schele and FAMSI.

With its spine-covered green trunk, the ceiba tree is likened to an inverted caiman throughout Mesoamerican iconography.26 Following López 25

Matthew Looper, Lightning Warrior: Maya art and kingship at Quirigua (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2003), 130. 26 David Freidel, Linda Schele and Joy Parker, Maya Cosmos: Three Thousand Years on the Shaman’s Path (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1993). The

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Austin, as a cosmic axis this tree appears to reunify the severed earth and sky, personified by lower and upper jaws on Pakal’s Sarcophagus. From the seventh century AD, this imagery is a probable antecedent to the sixteenth century K’iche’ Maya Popol Vuh, in which the Hero Twins break the lower jaw of the tyrannical ruler of the last world, Seven Macaw.27 One of the Hero Twins loses his arm in a prior altercation with the bird, and the earliest evidence for this story is graphically apparent in the Preclassic Stela 25 from Izapa (Fig.7), which depicts an armless twin

Fig. 7: Izapa Stela 25, Caiman tree, Principal Bird Deity and Hero Twin; drawing by Linda Schele; © 2000 David Schele and FAMSI. authors suggest that the inverted caiman also represents the vertically oriented Milky Way. However, Susan Milbrath contends that this orientation depends on star maps that place ‘up’ in the north. Nevertheless, I suggest that the perception of verticality of the Milky Way still holds when looking at the Milky Way in the southwest when it crosses the zenith. See S. Milbrath, Star Gods of the Maya (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999), 291; also see Mary Miller and Karl Taube, An Illustrated Guide of the Gods and Symbols of Ancient Mexico and the Maya (New York: Thames and Hudson, 1993), 186. 27 Dennis Tedlock, Popol Vuh (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1985).

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in the act of apparently reuniting the bird with an inverted caiman whose back half has transformed into a tree. The twin’s missing arm is visible in the bird’s clutches. This story is apparently related to a larger Mesoamerican symbolic complex that involves the severing of the jaw of a primordial being, be it a monstrous caiman or a related saurian bird deity. In the Classic Period, this bird is named as an avatar of the creator deity Itzam Nah, while the Postclassic sources tell us that the caiman is also named after this same deity as the Itzam Cab Ain, the Earth Caiman.

The Square-Nosed Caiman, the Mars Beast, and the Cloudy Milky Way Interestingly, the ceiba tree that reunites the earth and sky on Pakal’s sarcophagus also contains a reference to this same caiman, in that characteristic square-nosed caimans emerge from its flowering branches. Elsewhere, I have demonstrated that this unusual fret-nosed depiction of a caiman refers to a creature nicknamed the ‘Zero-Square-Nosed-Beastie’ (Fig. 8, left) who is consubstantial with both the so-called ‘Mars Beast’ in the Dresden Codex (Fig. 8, right), and the Classic Period celestial caiman.28

Fig. 8: left, Square-Nosed-Beastie. Palenque, Temple of the Inscriptions, West Panel, G1; right, Mars Beast. Dresden Codex, p. 44b1, B; drawings by author.

Notably, a similar verb, CH’AK-ja, ch’ahk-aj ‘is chopped’ or ‘is decapitated’ describes both the Dresden Mars Beast (Fig. 9) and the celestial caiman from Palenque Temple XIX, which reads CH’AK-uba,akin to ‘it was chopped’ (Fig. 3). As Susan Milbrath proposes, the chopping of the Mars Beast is directly associated with a table of the 780day synodic cycle of Mars and its retrograde motion in conjunction with the widest part of the Milky Way in Sagittarius.29 28

Michael Grofe, ‘The Sidereal Year and the Celestial Caiman’, Archaeoastronomy: The Journal of Astronomy in Culture 24 (2011): 72. 29 Milbrath, Star Gods of the Maya, 222.

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Fig. 9: Marrs Beast, Dresdden Codex Marrs Table, p. 45 b1, CH’AK-ja a verb at A1; image ffrom FAMSI phhotograph.

This particuular retrogradee motion stron ngly suggests aan association n between the cosmogonic division of this prim mordial beast and the arriv val of the summer rainny season, while w it also implicates i M Mars as an asttrological agent of thiss division and the rain that results, r in both th its nourishin ng and its violent form ms. Here, I aadditionally propose p that the t unusual S S-shape of thee head of both the M Mars Beast and a the Squaare-Nosed-Beeast derives from the characteristiic S-shaped scrolls s that reepresent cloudds in the May ya script. Stuart notess that these cloud signs are found innside the bod dy of the celestial caim man on Tempple 22 in Copan (Fig. 10), and he interprrets these as representaative of the clloudy Milky Way. W 30 30

See D. Stuuart, ‘Royal Auuto-Sacrifice am mong the Mayaa : A Study in Image I and Meaning’, RE ES: Anthropoloogical Aestheticcs 7/8 (1984): 6-20; also see D. Stuart, The Inscriptioons from Templle XIX, 72-73.

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Fig. 10: D Detail of Milkky Way caimaan, showing S--shaped cloud scrolls; drawing byy Linda Schele; © 2000 David d Schele and FA AMSI.

The profile of the Squaare-Nosed-Beeast frequentlyy appears within sky bands (Fig. 11a), while I suggest that they appear in a more ab bbreviated form recognnizable as an S-shaped S cloud scroll in a skky band from m the Vase of the Sevenn Gods (Fig. 11b).

Fig. 11a: S Sky band from House H E in Palenque, Square--Nosed-Beast caaiman at left; drawinng by Linda Schhele,© 2000 Daavid Schele andd FAMSI.

Fig. 11b: Sky band from m the Vase off the Seven G Gods (K2796), S-Scroll caiman in thhe center; © 20001 Kerr.

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The Milky Way Caiman, the Summer Rainy Season and the New Year In Classic Period Maya iconography, the Milky Way was depicted as a celestial caiman with the ear and hooves of a deer; David Stuart refers to this creature as the ‘Starry Deer Crocodile’ and he suggests that it represents the dark underworld sky, while also representing the surface of the earth.31 David Kelley first identified the dark rift in the Milky Way north of Sagittarius as the open mouth of the caiman, and I have proposed that the inverted caiman spewing forth water from the Dresden Codex directly reflects the upright Milky Way during the summer rainy season.32 For most of the history of the Classic Period through the present, the Milky Way has reached a prominent, vertically-oriented position at dawn at the onset of the rainy season at the beginning of May, then at midnight around the summer solstice, during the period of maximum rainfall, and lastly at dusk in mid-August, with the onset of the hurricane season. Raphael Girard notes that contemporary Ch’orti elders closely observe the movements of the Milky Way, particularly when it reaches its upright position at midnight in late July after the maximum period of rainfall during the summer solstice.33 The vertical orientation of the Milky Way thereby announces the hot, dry canicula, or dog days of summer in late July, during which the Ch’orti burn their milpas in preparation for the second planting of maize when the rains resume in August. During the Classic Period, this upright position of the Milky Way at midnight would have more closely coincided with the period of maximum rains during the solstice, while its upright position at dusk would have announced the threat of the hurricane season following the canicula. The Dresden flood scene also precedes the New Year pages, in which four directional ceiba trees are erected, and both Karl Taube and Velásquez see this as a direct parallel of the Postclassic stories of cosmic ceiba trees that were raised following the flood in the recreation of the world.34 Thus, these destructive events are inextricably linked to creation. 31

Stuart, The Inscriptions from Temple XIX, 72. Grofe, ‘The Sidereal Year’, 75. 33 According to Girard, this ‘upright’ positioning of the Milky Way at midnight is observed by the Ch’orti to time the beginning of the canicula in late July, a temporary dry period after maximum rainfall during the summer solstice, and before the rains resume for the second planting season. See Raphael Girard, People of the Chan (Chino Valley: Continuum Foundation, 1995), 302, 410; also see Girard, Los Mayas eternos (Mexico: Antigua Librería Robredo, 1962), 251-54. 34 Karl Taube, Aztec and Maya Myths; Velásquez Garcia, ‘The Maya Flood Myth’. 32

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Taube describes the Maya New Year festivities as “annual ritual reenactments of the destruction and re-creation of the world”.35 The 365-day Haab year was allowed to slowly drift without the addition of a leap year. At the time of contact, the New Year was celebrated in late July. As Velásquez notes, the Relación de la Ciudad de Mérida describes a ritual in which a caiman effigy that represented the deluge was painted and burned, much as the text on Temple XIX in Palenque describes. This evoked the cosmogonic mythology of the cycling of the eras, while I suggest that it equally refers to the annual progression of the seasons and the agricultural year.

Fig. 12: Celestial caiman beneath a bound, straw caiman effigy, PNG Stela 11; drawing by Linda Schele, © 2000 David Schele and FAMSI.

Several images of the classic celestial caiman, such as on Piedras Negras Stela 6 and Stela 11 (Fig. 12), depict the creature beneath a bound, straw caiman effigy that most likely served the same purpose as its Postclassic analogue. Stela 6 dates to 9.12.15.0.0, 12-14 April 687 AD, while Stela 11 dates to 9.15.0.0.0, 20-22 August 731 AD. Here, the ritual burning of the straw caiman directly suggests the burning of the milpas as Girard describes, and both of these dates correspond with appropriate times for burning prior to the arrival of the rains in May and then again in August, just following the canicula. Thus, I agree with Eric Thompson’s original 35

Taube, Aztec and Maya Myths, 72.

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proposal that the flood scene on page 74 of the Dresden Codex represents both a mythological flood, while simultaneously commemorating the arrival of the rains.36

The Winter Dry Season and the Sun in the Milky Way The antiquity of the imagery of the pluvial caiman is evident in the early Classic Margarita Panel from Copán (Fig. 13). In this image, we find the inverted caiman on the right, belching forth water and blood and descending from a skyband. Here, the pluvial caiman would represent the summer rainy season when this part of the Milky Way is most visible. Conversely, on the left we see a skeletal image of the descending caiman in the form of the Square-Nosed-Beast. Clinging to this skeletal caiman, we find the rain deity Chahk, holding his characteristic lightning axe, and this figure seems to be an early Classic prototype for later images of the skeletal GI of the Palenque Triad, a Solar/Venus deity who typically emerges from the rear of the celestial caiman wearing his solar brazier.37 As Milbrath has proposed, the skeletal form of GI here represents the winter dry season, when the sun appears in conjunction with the Milky Way in Sagittarius. This appears to reflect the sacrificial death and rebirth of Venus and the sun in the symbolically fertilizing waters of the Milky Way.38 Supporting Milbrath’s proposal, I have found that the deep time birth date of GI mentioned in the Palenque Temple of the Cross places the sidereal position of the sun in conjunction with the Milky Way in Sagittarius.39

36 Eric S. Thompson, A Commentary on the Dresden Codex: A Maya Hieroglyphic Book (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1972), 89. 37 Stuart, The Inscriptions from Temple XIX, 166-168. 38 Milbrath, Star Gods of the Maya, 275. 39 Grofe, ‘The Sidereal Year’, 75-79.

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Fig. 13: Deetail of Margarrita Panel from m Copán, Pluviaal caiman on th he right, and skeletall caiman on thee left; drawing by b author after D David Sedat.

This is refleected in the associated a Tab blet of the Crross, which deepicts the skeletal heaad of GI on thhe ecliptic sky y band, whilee the caiman ceiba c tree appears rises above it (Figg. 14). Howev ver, the birth ddate of GI corrresponds to 19 October 2360 BCE,, rather than to o the winter ssolstice at thatt time. As with the myythological teext describing g the divisionn of the caim man from Temple XIX X, I argue that Palenqu ue astronomeers were inteentionally targeting thiis sidereal position for theiir interpretatioon of the birtth date of GI by calcullating the sideereal year, rath her than invokking the tropiccal year.

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Fig. 14: Central image from the Temple of the Cross, Palenque: the skeletal head of GI, wearing the solar offering bowl, sits on a sky band; a stylized ceiba tree emerges from his head, with square-nosed caiman flowers. Drawing by author after Linda Schele.

Interestingly, the last image in a 91-day Seasonal Table from the Dresden Codex depicts Chahk emerging from a spine-covered ceiba tree on page 69, here personified as an inverted caiman (Fig.15). The parallel image from the lower Seasonal Table on page 67 indicates that this is a YAXTE’ ‘ceiba’, literally ‘green tree’, and Chahk appears to be hacking his way out of it with his axe, just as we see him descending from the skeletal caiman in the Margarita Panel. This axing is reminiscent of the chopping

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of the caim man, though here it apparen ntly does nott relate to thee summer rains. Signifficantly, usingg the proper entry e date for this table, deetermined by the Brickkers, this poinnt in the Seassonal Table w would corresp pond with the Milky W Way in Sagittarius, Chahk escapes the ttree, and this is a very different im mage from thhe inverted caaiman spewinng forth wateer in the Dresden, thee first heliacall visibility of the t proposed m mouth of the celestial c

Fig. 15: U Upper Seasonall Table, Dresd den Codex, p. 69a, depicting g Chahk emerging from invertedd caiman-ceiba; image com mpiled from FAMSI photographh.

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caiman as the dark rift in the Milky Way immediately following conjunction with the sun in late December 949 AD.40 Presumably, as the sun leaves the flood scene, depicting the opposite time of year. The conjunction of the winter solstice sun and the Milky Way in Sagittarius also occurred on the 13 Bak’tun completion date 4 Ajaw 3 K’ank’in in 2012, and John Major Jenkins has proposed that this was an intentional future calculation by the originators of the Long Count, who imagined it as a period of solar rebirth and renewal.41 While it is difficult to prove that the inventors of the Long Count predicted such a celestial event, there is some evidence that this future prediction held local significance for Tortuguero, where the sidereal position of the sun on the birth date of Bahlam Ajaw is paired together with the identical future position of the 13 Bak’tun completion date.42 If it was recognized, this winter solstice position corresponds with the opposite time of year from the characteristic summer rains that relate to the cosmogonic flood myth, and it is unlikely that the Maya would have conceived of the 13 Bak’tun completion in 2012 as repetition of this flood.

The Bak’tun Bird and the Sacrificed Hand Curiously, above each of the images of the descending caiman in the Margarita Panel, we find partially eroded images of the Principal Bird Deity, whose lower jaw has been replaced by a human hand. I suggest that this imagery relates to the same story we find in Izapa Stela 25, and in the Popol Vuh. Here, the hand reflects the necessary sacrifice that results from the initial cosmogonic division represented by the loss of the jaw. In the Popol Vuh, we learn that the twins replace the teeth of Seven Macaw with kernels of maize, thereby invoking the same theme of sacrifice and sustenance that we find in Central Mexico. Yet, the image of a bird with a human hand replacing its lower jaw is identical to the glyph representing the Bak’tun (Fig. 16). Given that that this image represents a period of time composed of 400 years of 360 days each, it is tempting to see this reciprocal sacrifice of five fingers as an etiological myth for the origin of 40

Victoria R. Bricker and Harvey M. Bricker, ‘The Seasonal Table in the Dresden Codex and Related Almanacs’, Archaeoastronomy, Supplement to the Journal for the History of Astronomy 12 (1988): S1-S62. 41 John Major Jenkins, Maya Cosmogenesis 2012: The True Meaning of the Maya Calendar End-Date (Santa Fe: Bear & Company, 1998). 42 Grofe, ‘Further Reflections on Bolon Yokte’ K’uh, Parts I–III’, in the IMS Explorer, 41.2–41.4 (Miami: Institute of Maya Studies, February 15–April 18, 2012).

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the five days removed from the 365-day year to form the more calculable 360-day cycle. If so, this story would seem to parallel the Egyptian story of the origin of the five extra days won by Thoth from the moon, Khonsu, thereby adding them to the previous 360-day year, though we find no surviving Maya story describing the origins of these cycles.43 Returning to the image of the Principal Bird Deity on Pakal’s sarcophagus, we see the glyph for blood, CH’ICH’, in place of its lower jaw (Fig. 6). It is worth noting that this blood glyph is the very cartouche within which all of the day signs appear, and the very components of time itself are imagined as the dismembered parts of a primordial being.44

Fig. 16: Bak’tun glyph showing human hand replacing the jaw of a bird, from Quirigua Stela F; drawing courtesy of Matthew Looper.

43

James Frazer, The Golden Bough, Vol. 6 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1914), 6. 44 S. D. Houston, D. Stuart, and K. Taube, The Memory of Bones: Body, Being, and Experience among the Classic Maya (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2006).

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The Serpent Series and Divergent Measurements of the Eras The flood scene on page 74 of the Dresden Codex immediately follows an elaborate table relating to rain, thereby prompting both Thompson and Carlson to conclude that this imagery relates to seasonal rainfall.45 However, this ‘Water Table’ contains specific astronomical references related to eclipses, the synodic cycle of Venus and the sidereal cycle of Mars, while it also references the chopping of the caiman as the Mars Beast.46 In addition, the Water Table is also part of a larger chapter that begins on page 69 with several deep time calculations that count back over 30,000 years prior to the Long Count Era Base on 4 Ajaw 8 Kumk’u. Maya hieroglyphic texts often provide specific dates for the same primordial event, while these precise dates and the length of the associated eras may differ considerably. Though it is loosely associated with the Long Count era base, the text from Palenque Temple XIX describes the 45 Thompson, A Commentary on the Dresden Codex; Carlson, ‘Anticipating the Maya Apocalypse’. 46 For the first interpretations of the Dresden Upper Water Table as a measurement of the sidereal cycle of Mars, see Anthony F. Aveni, Harvey M. Bricker, and Victoria R. Bricker, ‘Seeking the Sidereal: Observable Planetary Stations and the Ancient Maya Record’, Journal for the History of Astronomy 34 (2003): 145-161; also see Bricker and Bricker, ‘Astronomical References in the Water Tables on Pages 69 to 74 of the Dresden Codex’, in Painted Books and Indigenous Knowledge in Mesoamerica: Manuscript Studies in Honor of Mary Elizabeth Smith, ed. E. H. Boone, Publication 69 (New Orleans: Middle American Research Institute, 2005), 213-229. For my interpretation of the combined usage of the Upper and Lower Water Tables to calculate the sidereal cycle of Mars, together with eclipses, the tropical year and the sidereal year, see M. Grofe, The Serpent Series: Precession in the Maya Dresden Code (PhD dissertation, Davis: University of California, 2007); also see Grofe ‘The Sidereal Year’, 79-80. Additional mythohistorical interpretations of the Water Table and the Flood Scene are offered by H. M Bricker and V. R. Bricker in Astronomy in the Maya Codices (American Philosophical Society, 2011), 421, 443, in which they propose that the entry date for the Water Table falls on 9.16.13.6.12 4 Eb’ 0 Ch’en (9 July 764 AD), and that this corresponds with both the onset of the rainy season, as well as the mythological reference to the Flood Scene on page 74. However, it does not correspond well with the eclipse season. Gabrielle Vail offers a different entry date for the Water Table of 9.5.1.9.12 5 Eb’ 5 Muwan (6 January 536 AD) that corresponds with the eclipse season but not the rainy season. See G. Vail, ‘Cosmology and Creation in Late Postclassic Maya Literature and Art’, in Leslie G. Cecil and Timothy W. Pugh, eds., Maya Worldviews at Conquest (Boulder: The University Press of Colorado, 2009), 83-110.

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division of the caiman on 18 February 3298 BCE, some 184 years prior to the era base on 4 Ajaw Kumk’u. In this case, while the tropical year did not fall anywhere near the summer rains for this event, I believe that the Palenque astronomers were intentionally targeting the sidereal position of the sun which would have corresponded with the appearance of the vertical Milky Way at dawn, precisely as it appeared at the onset of the rains in historical time. Such a calculation necessitates that the Maya were capable of calculating the sidereal year with a great degree of accuracy, and I have found considerable evidence for this throughout the inscriptions.47 Parallel mythological events do not necessarily equate with universal or uniformly shared calendrical or astronomical interpretations from different times and places. Thus, the Chilam Balam of Maní recounts the flood as occurring in the seventeenth era of an ‘18 Bak Katun’, a period of time equivalent to 7,200 K’atuns of roughly twenty years each. This story reflects a time when the Long Count had fallen out of use in the Maya area. Similarly, we find conflicting information concerning the length and ordering of the eras in Central Mexico, though the two oldest sources record the length of the four previous eras as 2,028 years, while the length of each era is neither uniform, nor is there agreement about their order.48 Certainly, the flood scene from the Dresden Codex can be interpreted as one manifestation of the more widely shared Mesoamerican flood myth. But there is no textual evidence to suggest that this scene relates to the 13 Bak’tun completion of the Long Count in 2012, though there is an apparent reference to the 4 Ajaw 8 Kumk’u era base. However, as Hermann Beyer first demonstrated in 1943, it appears that this version of the flood myth relates to the Serpent Series, named for immense intervals of time written amidst the coils of undulating serpents.49 Each of these distance numbers count forward from a unique earlier base date 9 K’an 12 K’ayab, over 30,028 years prior to the era base on 4 Ajaw 8 Kumk’u. No previous work has succinctly demonstrated that Maya astronomers knew the small difference between the tropical year measuring the seasons, and the sidereal year that places the sun in the same position relative to the stars. However, my own research on the mythological dates and intervals 47

Grofe, The Serpent Series; Grofe, ‘The Sidereal Year’. Taube, An Illustrated Guide of the Gods and Symbols, 34; Ross Hassig, Time, History and Belief in Aztec and Colonial Mexico (Texas: University of Texas Press, 2001), 63-64. 49 Hermann Beyer, ‘The Long Count Position of the Serpent Number Dates’, in Proceedings of the 27th International Congress of Americanists, Vol. 1 (Mexico, 1939): 401-405. Beyer demonstrated that the mythical date 9 K’an 12 K’ayab occurred 10,967,536 days prior to the era base of 4 Ajaw 8 Kumk’u. 48

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within the Serpent Series suggests that Maya astronomers were particularly interested in whole multiples of the sidereal year commensurated with the eclipse year and the tropical year.50 In this case, using the tropical year value identified by John Teeple51 from Copán and found throughout the Serpent Series, the base date 9 K’an 12 K’ayab would have fallen on a summer solstice in 33,142 BCE, thereby corroborating that the flood scene relates to the summer rains, while also supporting the proposal that the flood simultaneously commemorates the cosmogonic flood.52 The preface to the Serpent Series (Fig. 17) does reference the era base 4 Ajaw 8 Kumk’u in 3114 BCE as an endpoint of a large interval of specifically

50

Grofe, The Serpent Series 212-213. The distance number found in Serpent Number 3a on page 62, column A of the Dresden Codex is an interval of 12,438,810 days between the mythical Serpent base 9 K’an 12 K’ayab and the historical date 10.04.06.15.04 3 Ix 7 Pax on 30 October 915 AD (25 October Julian). A lunar eclipse occurred on the latter date, and this immense interval of 12,438,810 days is very close to a whole multiple of the eclipse year of 346.62 days, as well as a whole multiple of the sidereal year of 365.2565128 days, derived from the introductory distance number of 5,482,135 days from the preface of The Serpent Series (discussed in the next paragraph). Furthermore, the interval of 5,482,135 days is both a whole multiple of this sidereal year of 365.2565128 days, as well as a whole multiple of the eclipse year. 51 John Teeple, ‘Maya Astronomy’, Contributions to American Archaeology 1, no. 2 (1930), 29-116. From Copán Stela A, Teeple deduced that the tropical year value used would have been 365.2419355 days, and I have subsequently found this value to be productive in the Dresden Codex, as well as in the Classic inscriptions. See Grofe, The Serpent Series, and Grofe, ‘The Sidereal Year’. 52 Grofe, The Serpent Series, 83-84. Specifically using Teeple’s Copán tropical year value of 365.2419355 days, the interval of 10,967,536 days prior to the era base on 13 August would theoretically place the Serpent base date 9 K’an 12 K’ayab on 22 June 33,142 BCE, and 22 June was the date of the summer solstice during much of the Maya Classic Period into the Postclassic when the Dresden Codex is thought to have been written. However, note that the interval of 10,967,536 days is not a whole multiple of the sidereal year value I deduced from the introductory distance number of 5,482,135 days. Therefore, the Serpent base date in 33,142 BCE would not have theoretically intended to place the position of the sun in the same sidereal position as it was found on the era base in 3114 BCE. Instead, I argue (pages 106-109) that it intended to place the sun in the same position as it was found on the historical date 10.04.06.15.04 3 Ix 7 Pax on 30 October 915 AD (25 October Julian) from Serpent Number 3a, and this corresponds to the last day on which the Pleiades is visible on the horizon, rising at sunset at opposition to the sun, a convenient means by which to observe the sidereal year.

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Fig. 17: Prreface to the Serpent S Series, Era day 4 Ajaaw 8 Kumk’u is i at the bottom of the first distannce number, which w equals 55,482,135 dayss, nearly equivalent to 15,009 siderreal years. Ben neath the era daay, it reads 5 AT-li A tiHA’, ‘five inundations inn the water’; paage 69 of the D Dresden Codex x; image from FAMS SI photograph.

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5,482,135 days, which I have determined to be only two days in error from a whole multiple of 15,009 sidereal years that would theoretically place the sun in the same sidereal position at either end of this immense interval.53 Assuming that the stated interval of 5,482,135 days was intended as a calculation of a whole multiple of the sidereal year, this provides a sidereal year value of 365.2565128 days. Furthermore, using Teeple’s Copán tropical year value, this interval of 5,482,135 days would shift the time of the tropical year by some 218.79 days. Interestingly, during the time in which the Dresden Codex was written in the thirteenth century, 219 days is the approximate interval between the 13 August solar zenith at 14.8º North Latitude—arguably associated with the era base—and the vernal equinox.54 Subsequently, I found that this sidereal year value of 365.2565128 days (c.f. the astronomical measurement of 365.25636 days) is also used throughout the Serpent Series, particularly as a whole multiple in Serpent Number 3a, as well as in the accompanying Seasonal Table and Water Table that follow. Following the reference to 4 Ajaw 8 Kumk’u, the text gives us an indication that the authors of the Dresden Codex may have conceived of a sequence of five eras that each ended in a flood, perhaps influenced by Central Mexican stories. I had originally read the text following 4 Ajaw 8 Kumk’u as 5 ta-li ta-ba as ho’ tal tab’, ‘fifth time added’, following Harvey and Victoria Bricker’s reading of tab’ signifying ‘to tie’ and addition. However, the Brickers have since pointed out that the obligatory initial ordinal construct u- is absent from this phrase.55 Nevertheless, 53 For an additional interpretation of the Serpent Series preface as a parallel to the colonial story of the birth of the number twenty, see Carl Callaway, ‘The Birth of the Number Twenty in the Dresden Codex’, in The Maya and Their Sacred Narrative:. Text and Context in Maya Mythologies, Genevieve Le Forte, Rafael Gardiol, Sebastian Matteo, and Christophe Helmke, eds. (Acta Mesamericana, 20) Verlag Anton Saurwein, Markt Schwaben (2009). Callaway’s interpretation does not directly conflict with my own. 54 Grofe, The Serpent Series, 74–78. Clemency Coggins and R. David Drucker provide direct evidence that the site of Dzibilchaltun in the Yucatan was used to observe the equinoxes. See Coggins and Drucker, ‘The Observatory at Dzibilchaltun’, in New Directions in American Archaeoastronomy, ed. Anthony F. Aveni, 17-56. Proceedings of the 46th International Congress of Americanists (Oxford: BAR International Series, 1988). There is debate concerning whether the Maya were aware of the equinoxes. See Ivan Sprajc, ‘Astronomy in Ancient Mesoamerica: An Overview’, Journal of Cosmology 9 (2010): 2041-2051. 55 H. M. Bricker and V. R. Bricker, Astronomy in the Maya Codices (American Philosophical Society, 2011), 406-407.

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Barbara MacLeod has determined that the phrase most likely reads 5-AT-li ti-HA’as ho’ at-il ti ha’, ‘five bathings in the water’, or perhaps ‘five inundations’, and this is highly suggestive of both the Water Table and the flood scene that follows.56 As the Brickers suspected, it is apparent that this phrase does represent a mathematical operation, but in its full form, it appears as OCH-ti-HA’, ‘enters the water’. I have demonstrated that this actually represents a subtraction throughout the Dresden Codex,57 and Barbara MacLeod and I both suspect that this relates to a watery metaphor for elapsed time. Indeed, the so-called half period of the K’atun is routinely referred to as TAN-LAM, ’half submerged’.58 I suspect that the phrase ‘five bathings in the water’ refers to the beginning of this era as one of five cyclical floods, perhaps influenced by the Central Mexican stories. In this case, the cycles themselves appear to be quite long at 15,009 years—far beyond the comparatively small 13 Bak’tuns implied by the Long Count. As I had originally calculated, five such cycles would not only continue to place the sun in the same sidereal position, but they would also return this position to the same time in the tropical year, given that 5 cycles of 219 days are equivalent to three cycles of 365 days.

The Accession of the Celestial Caiman Three Classic Period texts describe deep time events involving the ZeroSquare-Nosed-Beast, and each of these dates apparently attempt to calculate the accession of the celestial caiman as the first in a long line of kings, rather than as an adversary. One of these intervals appears in the West Tablet of the Temple of the Inscriptions in Palenque; another appears on Naranjo Altar 1, and the third appears on Copán Stela J. In each case, the immense distance numbers involved serve to connect the accession date of the celestial caiman with the historical dates of the accession of particular kings. While counting to widely divergent deep time dates, I found that each of these three intervals incorporates a precise calculation of the synodic cycles of both Mars and Venus to the second decimal place. While using a value of 365.555556 days for the sidereal year deduced from Copán Stela J and Naranjo Altar 1, all of these primordial dates also place the sun near 56

Barbara MacLeod, personal communication (2008). Grofe, The Serpent Series, 128-132. 58 Søren Wichmann, ‘The grammar of the half-period glyph’, in S. Wichmann, ed., The Linguistics of Maya Writing (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 2004), 327-337. 57

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the Milky Way between Taurus and Gemini, directly opposite the Milky Way in Sagittarius, thereby reflecting the same sidereal relationship of the sun and the Milky Way during the historical summer rainy season.59

Fig. 18: Distance Number to celestial caiman accession, read as 7.18.2.9.2.12.1 = 455,393,761 days, PAL TI, West, F9–G2; drawing by Linda Schele; © 2000 David Schele and FAMSI. 59 Grofe, ‘The Sidereal Year’: 66-71, 80-87. From Copán Stela J, I deduced a formula for the sidereal year that gives a value of 365.2555556 days, and evidence for the use of this value appears both in Palenque and in Naranjo where we find similarly large deep time intervals. Naranjo Altar 1 gives a comparatively shorter distance number of 2.2.6.3.3, equivalent to 304,623 days, a near whole multiple of 834 sidereal years. This spans between the historical date 9.4.10.8.17, 7 Kaban 5 K’ayab on 19 February 525 AD, and 7.2.4.5.14, 13 Ix 12 Xul on 8 February 310 BCE, an apparently back-calculated date that corresponds to a heliacal rise of Venus on the idealized solar nadir that places the sun at an eclipse node and in the same sidereal position as on the historical date.

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The deep time intervals that count back to the accession of the celestial caiman in the West Tablet of the Palenque Temple of the Inscriptions and in Naranjo Altar 1 both produce an equivalent remainder of days for the synodic cycles of both Mars and Venus, to the second decimal place. From the Temple of the Inscriptions we find a clearly stated interval of 455,393,761 days between the accession of the caiman and the accession of K’inich Janaab Pakal (Fig. 18). This produces the following extraordinary calculation of 392 days beyond precisely 1,000 multiples of the commensurated synodic cycles of Mars and Venus: 455,393,761 days

= 583,920 (779.89 days) + 392 days = 779,890 (583.92 days) + 392 days

When 392 days are then subtracted from Pakal’s accession on 9.9.2.4.8 5 Lamat 1 Mol, 29 July 615 AD (26 July Julian), we reach a conjunction of Mars and Venus on 2 July 614 AD (25 June Julian), and both are heliacally rising at this time. Using the sidereal year value of 365.2555556 days from Stela J and Naranjo Altar 1 within this distance number, we find a remainder of 131 days: 455,393,761 days

= 1,246,781 (365.2555556 days) + 74 days

Subtracting 74 days from Pakal’s accession would therefore theoretically place the sun in the sidereal position of where it was on 16 May 614 AD (14 May Julian), in the Milky Way in Taurus, close to the time of the arrival of the rains and the first visibility of the heliacal rising of the Pleiades. Indeed, in all three of these deep time references to the accession of the caiman, including the third from Copán Stela J, we find the consistent result that would have placed Mars in close conjunction with the sun near the Milky Way between Taurus and Gemini, rather than at opposition to the sun during retrograde as we see in the Dresden Mars Table, where we find the sun in this same sidereal position in the Milky Way. In fact, the theoretically calculated sidereal position of the sun during the accession of the caiman from both Copán Stela J and the Temple of the Inscriptions in Palenque is near to the Pleiades, which is remarkably similar to the position of the sun during the opening date of the pre-Era flood narrative in Palenque Temple XIX, 12.10.1.13.2 9 Ik’ 5 Mol, 10 March 3309 BCE (6 April Julian). From Naranjo Altar 1, we find a similar calculation resulting in an equivalent remainder for the synodic cycles of Mars and Venus, though

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the result is a completely different deep time date for the accession of the caiman:60 7,761,924 days

= 9,952 (779.89 days) + 458 days = 13,292 (583.92 days) + 458 days

Here, the relationship of the movements of both Mars and Venus to the celestial caiman is evident, and this is likewise reflected in the incorporation of the celestial caiman as the Mars Beast in the Dresden Water Table, and the ways in which this table was used to calculate the movements of these planets together with the summer rainy season. It appears that, while Mars in retrograde crossing the Milky Way in Sagittarius may have been an agent of the rains and the division of the caiman, as Milbrath proposes, the conjunction of Mars and the sun in the same sidereal position of the sun near the Milky Way between Taurus and Gemini may have intended to describe an undivided primordial caiman at the time of each of these deep time events. The use of the moniker ‘zero’ in the name of the celestial caiman in these texts, as well as an alternate version showing a hand sign signifying ‘completion’, suggest that these dates correspond to the whole primordial beast, prior to its division into the sky, the earth and the elements of time. The precision of these deep time calculations is both extraordinary and consistent, as is the theme of the celestial caiman and its relationship to a shared cosmogonic myth. However, the dates attributed to the primordial accession of the celestial caiman are widely divergent, reflecting political motivations that sought to connect specific kings with mythological events that were locally defined, rather than universally shared. Here, we may invoke Walton’s assessment that themes of theomachy and chaoskampf were used to reassert political power, restore order, and connect the lives of living people to the progression of the seasons. Despite the various ways in which it may have been interpreted astronomically and astrologically, the myth of the primordial caiman was 60

Grofe, ‘The Sidereal Year’: 71. The large distance number counting back to the accession of the caiman on Naranjo Altar 1 is partially eroded with the Tuns erased, giving 2.13.13.??.16/17.4. Nikolai Grube and Linda Schele reconstruct this distance number as 2.13.12.15.8.4, assuming that both the K’atuns and the Winals are written in error, and they state that the scribes accidentally added an extra dot to the K’atuns, and three bars to the Winals. However, I demonstrate a more parsimonious correction that states only that the scribe accidentally added one bar to the K’atuns, which should be 13. The resulting corrected distance number would then be 2.13.18.0.16.4, equivalent to an immense interval of 7,761,924 days.

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intimately tied to the cycle of the rains and the agricultural year, and this cosmological myth appears to derive from the seasonal observation of the movements of the Milky Way.

Conclusion: Beyond the 13th Bak’tun As with all living mythological stories, we bring to our interpretations of these stories our own human experiences and meanings, including our hopes and our fears. Undoubtedly, the Maya did the same, and all mythological stories are crafted, shaped and transformed by many storytellers over time. We must admit that we, too, are storytellers who are attempting to interpret and retell the rich and diverse mythological tradition of the Maya, though sometimes we may be relying more on our own myth-making abilities and cultural traditions to connect disparate facts, rather than on the evidence at hand. We may find great commonalities in our shared human experience. But we limit ourselves if we mistakenly succumb to the temptation to literalize mythological stories or predictions about the future. I would add that we also limit ourselves if we only consider our own interpretations and projections without attempting to strive to understand and compare them with various Mesoamerican perspectives that may be very different from our own—including diverse Maya perspectives that may even be very different from one another. As Carl Jung suggested, mythological stories and their ritual enactments may function to prevent literally and unconsciously acting out the very stories and lessons they retell. Perhaps one of the functions of ritually reenacting cosmogonic or ‘apocalyptic’ mythological stories like that of the division of the primordial caiman was to prevent the destructive events about which they warned, while also serving to connect and define the role of humanity to the cosmos and its origins. The Dresden Water Table suggests that these stories had contemporary relevance in that it was necessary to ritually participate in the progression of time and the seasons in order to sustain life. By re-enacting these stories at their appropriate time, particularly noting astrologically predictable times of vulnerability with the confluence of the retrograde period of Mars and the summer appearance of the Milky Way, perhaps the Maya conceived of the necessity of propitiating the gods to prevent either drought or violent floods and hurricanes. During the Classic Period, kings apparently utilized this agricultural theme of chaoskampf to reassert their political role as the restorers of order and the sustainers of life. Yet, with the decline of the dynastic period in the Postclassic, the ritual need for re-enacting this myth

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persisted, and these rites of intensification continued to be observed. These rituals thereby served to unify the collective intentions of an agricultural community. In our efforts to try to understand the many layers of meaning that many different Maya storytellers intended, we must also acknowledge what we find meaningful in these stories. As with all great literature and mythology, we inevitably reflect on how these stories may apply to us. Indeed, one of the functions of mythology is to help us bring to the surface aspects of ourselves and our world that may be less familiar. We can see how astrology or other forms of divination can function in this way—not as a literal determination of what will happen to us in the future, but a way in which to consider ourselves within a web of mythological stories that serve to connect us to a larger sense of ourselves in the cosmos. From one version of the cosmogonic myth of the end of a previous world in the Popol Vuh, we read that the corrupt wooden people abused their animals and their tools, and they forgot their connection to their makers. In response, the animals and tools rose up against the wooden people—a theme we find also in myths from the Andes. Angered by the negligence of the wooden people, the gods from the Popol Vuh destroyed the world with a flood. This story seems to derive from Maya sources that had syncretized with Christianity. But regardless of whether this story intended to describe a specific, ancient event in mythological time, rather than as a literal description of what the Maya imagined would happen in 2012, we can see the obvious ways in which this story resonates with our current challenges, as it no doubt resonated with the times and places of those who crafted the story. Perhaps the now waning interest in both apocalyptic and transformational interpretations of the completion of the 13 Bak’tun cycle can be seen within this context of shared experiences. However, as we move beyond 2012, we would be better served if we could reframe these stories as non-literal and metaphorical expressions that can serve as reminders of potential outcomes that may result from our own unconscious actions, rather than as a prediction of a predetermined fate.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN THE JOURNEY OF CALENDARS, WIND AND LIFE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN: A MALAGASY PERSPECTIVE1 CHRISTEL MATTHEEUWS

Abstract In Central East Madagascar electional astrology is very vivid in the shape of a lunisolar system and supported by a double calendar. The initiation of all activities demands a specific season or even solar month in which a favourable astrological lunar day is chosen. In the lunar calendar (alimanaka), astrological months and days are named after the Arabic Zodiac, while the solar months (today named after the French Gregorian months) were originally expressed in a calendar of Sanskrit origin (tetyandro). In an attempt to compare the existence of ‘the same’ calendars in different regions in Madagascar and beyond (India, Swahili region, Indonesia), I noticed differences in their equivalence with our solar and lunar years and the starry sky. My argument is that apart from observations of and experiences in the weather and environment that mark understandings of the astrological destinies, much depends also on the development of the calendars according to the relational movements of the sun, moon and stars. It has become common knowledge that many communities on the shores of the Indian Ocean have evolved along the rhythm of the monsoons. Monsoons are not only associated with rainfall and the agricultural cycle, but also with trade across the high seas and land until a recent past. Sailing ships, pack animals, sailors and traders were the carriers of invisible cargoes of ideas, cultures and technologies which bound different people and cultures into a unique Indian Ocean maritime world.2 In this maritime world, boats were the homes of many people whose 1

First presented at at the International Colloquium, Anthropology Comparative des Societies Insulaires de L’Ocean Indien Occidental, April 2011, Nanterre, Paris, France. 2 Kenneth McPherson, The Indian Ocean: A History of People and the Sea (Dehli: Oxford University Press, 1998).

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subsistence economy was carrying goods, touching the coast at various points and creating a culture of porterage and not of production. From this perspective, Mack argues that the island of Madagascar was not occupied until late compared to other parts of the Indian Ocean because those who might have settled there were not interested in living on the land: their livelihood was on the high seas. It required settlers other than pirates to eventually make Madagascar a place with which to trade.3 The north of Madagascar became integrated into the maritime world of the Indian Ocean from the second half of the first millennium. There is still a lot of discussion about the situation before that time and about other regions on the island. There is also no consensus about the nature of Bantu, Austronesian, Arabic and other ethnic mixtures that lay at the foundation of the different communities of the present nation, nor about the role the island has played in the development of the Indian Ocean maritime world.4 Alpers shows rightly that each person— whether a farmer, a traveller, or a scholar—cannot escape the ties that bind him or her to the Indian Ocean world.5 I accept Appadurai’s concept of ‘scapes’ as the fluid, irregular shapes of land, sea and sky,6 with perspectival constructs, as well as Clifford’s view of (human) location as constituted by displacement as much as by stasis (roots) to describe the features of the Indian Ocean world.7 Form-giving, motion and porterage will also be central in this paper, which aims to reflect on the journeys of calendars, wind and life in the Indian Ocean from an astrological perspective and their impact on the formation of Zanadroandrena land in Central East Madagascar and beyond. There is no doubt that Arabic astrology has left its traces on the island of Madagascar. Among the Zanadroandrena extended family for example, the destiny Adaoro (Taurus) is described as a bull whose horns are pointed forward, always ready to fight; Asombola (Virgo) is the month of the harvest; and Admizana (Balance) is the levelled water surface due to the ‘still wind’. Nevertheless, we should beware of stating that astrology in Madagascar is of Arabic origin as is generally accepted. Too much attention has been paid to the West Indian Ocean and its Arabic and Swahili relations, neglecting the role of contacts between Madagascar and South East Asia in the development of astrology on the island. I will develop this 3

John Mack, ‘The Land Viewed from the Sea’, Azania: Archaeological Research in Africa 42, no. 1 (2007): 1-14. 4 For a recent review and discussion about the migrations to Madagascar see Ph. Beaujard, ‘The First Migrants to Madagascar and Their Introduction of Plants: Linguistic and Ethnological Evidence’, Azania: Archaeological Research in Africa 46, no. 2 (2011): 169-89; Robert E. Dewar and Alison F. Richard, ‘Madagascar: a History of Arrivals, What Happened, and Will Happen Next’, The Annual Review of Anthropology 41 (2012): 495-517. 5 My own addition. 6 My own addition. 7 Edward A. Alpers, ‘Imagining the Indian Ocean World’ (Opening Address to the International Conference on Cultural Exchange and Transformation in the Indian Ocean world, UCLA, 5 April 2002), at http://www.ibrarian.net (accessed 8 December 2010).

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argument from a particular understanding of the astrological calendar used in Central East Madagascar. This understanding goes beyond the notion of day identification and timekeeping, restoring this calendar to the movements that gave rise to the repetitive and cyclical character of the twelve destinies (equivalent to our twelve zodiac signs) that specify the days and months.

Introduction The Zanadroandrena extended family settled about 150 years ago in the very heart of the Bezanozano region along the western bank of the Mangoro River. When the first immigrants arrived from North-Imerina, they settled on a hill in the southeast of the present area, transformed some marshes into rice fields down the hill, and delineated their cattle prairies on the open highland in the northwest. After some time, when the land had given prosperity, they decided to build a new family tomb to bury their dead in the same land of the living, making them part of Zanadroandrena land. They also established a ritual centre where all the forces of the land were joined to take care of the wellbeing of people, rice and cattle. Over the several generations since the first settlement, villages and tombs have multiplied, rice fields have expanded, and the family has grown, both in the realm of the living and in the realm of the dead. The Zanadroandrena cosmoecology is synthesised in the following myth of creation: “When the Zanahary (Children of the Creator) asked Andriamanitra (The Creator) about their generative role, He answered: ‘You will take care of the bodies and I take care of the wind”’8. According to this understanding, only the wind stays in the field of the Prime Creator who takes care of it, while the Children, having spread in the four directions, take care of the bodies. This myth of creation is reflected in a double source of life—a heavenly and an earthly—a double astronomical perspective of zenith and horizon and a double focus of astrological practice creating time and places. In order to understand Zanadroandrena astrological practice, one must overcome the contrast between a very dynamic Zanadroandrena life on the one hand and the seemingly repetitive and cyclical character of the destinies as they appear in a lunar calendar (Alimanaka), carrying them perpetually on and on, and in the placement of those destinies nicely arranged along the four cardinal directions, called 'image of the land', on the other hand (Figs. 1 and 2).

8

Rafaravavy, Sarogoaika villager, interview July 2004.

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Fig. 1: Doubble Calendar. Sunday (Alaha ady) 2 March 2003 was a new n moon bringing the ddestiny Asorotaany.

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Fig. 2: The twelve astrollogical destiniees arranged arround the fou ur cardinal directions andd shaping the im mage of the eartth in relation w with the seasons..

In other worrds, how can we w make the rigid r calendar and image off the earth alive? Accoording to Ingoold “it is not a matter of puttting life into things t but restoring thoose things to the movemen nts that gave rise to them”.9 This is the way thee Zanadroandrrena deal witth death. Forr them death does not mean being without life-fforce but that the life-force has become im mmobile. While, for example, thhe northwest wind bringgs the summ mer rains, expanding llife, and the southeast s win nd the cold w winter, making g life fall apart, the shhort dry and very hot period of the yeaar without wiind is not understood aas the absencee of wind but as the period of 'the wind that does not walk'. Life-force iss always preesent in bothh life and deeath, but sometimes iit moves andd sometimes it doesn't. Iff the life-forcce doesn't move, this is not equall to nothing happening. S Something happens— 9

Tim Ingold,, ‘Materials agaainst Materialism’, Archaeologgical Dialoguess 14, no. 1 (2007): 12.

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namely immobility—as a holding firm of the life-force, like the uncooked rice grains, the bones of dead bodies, or the reeds in unused rice fields that store the fertility of the soil or the water in a container. The immobility of the life-forces of rice, bones, marshy soil or water has to be restored into the flux of life by cooking the rice, the reburial of the dead, or the trampling of the fields. I will apply the same idea to the astrological calendar. Together with the image of the earth, this calendar is central in Zanadroandrena astrological practice without imprisoning people’s life into rigid structures, rules, positions and repetition. I consider Zanadroandrena astrological practice as a poiesis of life, generating places, bodies and all sorts of phenomena in fields of relations. Zanadroandrena society and cultural practices are manifestations of complex (re)generative life processes and not (living) representations of nature and the cosmos. I do not trace metaphors except for life itself as being meaningful in all its unique and unrepeatable manifestations of the sun, moon, the rain, the wind, people, animals, plants, invisible creatures, the ancestors, houses and tombs, all of which participate in Zanadroandrena life.

Four different meanings of ‘andro’ As a way to restore the astrological calendar to the movements that gave rise to it, I will reflect on the four different meanings of andro and see how they relate to each other. In its first meaning of day, andro is often understood in contrast to the night. But it can also denote a twenty-four-hour day as in the description of a seven-day, herin’andro, literally translated as ‘the coming back of the day from where one started to count’. A day is measured according to the re-appearance of the sun in the morning. Although today many Zanadroandrena have a clock in their house and sometimes even a wristwatch which they wear when going to town, the moments of the day are clear by watching the positions of the sun and different shapes of shadows and colours. The weather, a second meaning of andro, is expressed by toetr’andro, the quality of the weather, if people talk about it in a general way; for example, ‘the quality of the weather during summer’. It is expressed by andro in specific moments, as ‘the weather is cloudy today’. The changes in the weather are led by the different winds that appear in the period of one solar year. This year is divided in twelve months of which the names are today a Malagasy version of the French months of the Gregorian calendar. The weather is related to these months. When it is, for example,

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extremely dry in the months of January or February, then the people say that 'the weather is like the month of October'. Originally the Zanadroandrena must have noticed the division of one year through the movements of ‘the belt of Orion’ (telo-andakana, ‘three in a canoe’). “The belt of Orion divides the year in the same way as the sun divides the day”, they say. Today, people only notice its low position in the west in the early evening in May as the time of harvesting the summer rice, called fararano, ‘the end of the water’. In its third meaning, andro are the twelve astrological months brought by new moon during one moon year of 354 days. These astrological months are in turn subdivided into a chain of astrological days spanning one journey of the moon to its next appearance as new moon. Related to the astrological months and days is the fourth understanding of andro as invisible forces appearing in all phenomena at their moment of birth, giving them a life-time destiny. The fact that the Zanadroandrena say that andro appear as invisible forces in phenomena at their moment of birth gives us a hint that the astrological calendar should not be understood as the cyclical repetition of events in time ‘like the beads of a necklace strung together on a thread’.10 Gell distinguishes between two kinds of ‘time’. B-series of time are events that follow each other in a chronological series as isolated dated happenings like the pearls of a necklace (real time/physical time); events can only carry one real temporal characteristic and that is their appearance on a certain moment. They are the subsequent stages in the career of a thing and can never be the same in the present, past and future, like a cup of tea can never be at the same time hot, warm and cold. Time as an event does not change but is change. Things change and events are the changes that happen in the things, they are what bring new situations. They are true or false in every moment. Gell’s second kind of time relates to the changes in time that we experience as a passage of time; the links that we can make between present, past and future are not characteristics of real time but of temporality (human time). These Aseries of time are immanent to the transitions of events that we experience. We cannot experience real time since perception and experience are always perspectivistic, in place and in specific circumstances. There is a distinction we should make between the ultimate real time and the many images we can have of it.11 I do not have a problem in understanding the different andro of the calendar as a particular sequence of dated events but I do have a problem 10

Alfred Gell, The Anthropology of Time: Cultural Constructions of Temporal Maps and Images (Oxford, Providence: Berg, 1992), 151. 11 Gell, The Anthropology of Time, 149-174.

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with the image of a string that holds them together. Suppose I give a chronological list of important happenings with a lot of astrology I observed during my fieldwork, then what we get is something like this: 1.) 28 February 2000, vodyAlohotsy, ritual for the family of Ravelomanana at the menhir of the deceased healer Ramariavelo. 2.) 11 March 2000, vodyAlasaty, climbing to the territorial ritual centre (jiro) of Antanimbaritsara. 3.) 05 May 2000, vavaAsombola, blessing the fundaments of the new house of Fidel (now the house of Armand). 4.) 05 May 2000, vavaAsombola, blessing the rock for the menhirs of Ranampy and his brother. 5.) 30 June 2000, vodyAdmizana, pulling the stones for the menhirs of Ranampy and his brother. 6.) 11-12 July 2000, Adalo, famadihana (giving the dead new shrouds) at Fierenana. 7.) 13 July 2000, vodyAlohotsy, circumcision of the grandchild of Rakotongita. 8.) 16 July 2000, vataAlahamady, marriage of Venance and Yarlalao. 9.) 6-7 August, Adalo, famadihana (giving the dead new shrouds) at Mangarivotra.

Where is the string? Is the string the time-span of my fieldwork that equals a particular period of time of the Zanadroandrena history? Is it the timespan that the moon takes from 1 to 9 in which the happenings occurred? The examples of events I gave have started or happened on a particular moment, giving them their destiny, and all events will continue to have their particular life-path in different directions, with different rhythms and particular time-spans. I cannot reduce the happenings I have observed to a calendar-line—if there exists such a line. But, if the dates and andro do not refer to a linear or cyclical time, what are their steady appearances and how do we have to understand them in relation to what is continuously happening in the world, and in particular in the life of the Zanadroandrena? Let’s go back to the first three different meanings of the andro and concentrate on the movement of the leaders that bring the andro—the sun, moon and wind that bring respectively the day, the astrological andro and the weather. What if we see their movements, which we often only consider as reference points, as their particular life-paths? If we do so, since the andro are invisible forces that appear in all phenomena when they are born, the andro must also have appeared when the sun, moon and wind were born and given them their particular lifetime destiny. The sun, moon and wind carry their achieved destiny throughout their life as part of

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their identity and role in the world wherever they go, whatever they do. The moon continuously brings or carries along the astrological andro, the sun brings the day, and the wind brings the weather. They do that in their movement, in their path. It is in their movement that we should understand change. Their movement can be seen as a line, a path, and if we want to call this movement or path ‘time’, then we must admit that there are as many times as there are paths.12 These times are not strings that connect different pearls as different stages of being, but are intrinsic of the pearls’ identity that move and change, being string. We can picture the movement of the sun in its different stages, but it is really only one sun that changes in its own movement. The same can be said about the moon and everything that is born astrologically, and also the astrological calendar. Astrological time embodied by beings and phenomena is then more or less time as change in the movement of beings. What I mean with this can be well expressed by Goethe's image of the leaves in his metamorphosis of plants where he explains the development of a plant from seed to fruit. If we take samples of a plant or parts of the plant in its different stages of development, then early forms do not show anything of the later forms and vice versa. Goethe believes therefore that understanding changes and development can only be done in the moving form—that which displays itself in the midst of change as a movement of expansion and contraction in progress. The leaves (the ‘plantness’ of plants that refers to any different part of the plant) are like footprints of a plant which develop in the realm of the invisible: change, time, life, or whatever you call it—are invisible, intangible as a process if they are deprived from the moving form. Or to put it otherwise: each individual form is an arrested stage of the transformation, the transformation itself remaining invisible. We can, however, observe the life or movement of form, which is irreversible since the different stages do not imply each other. Roots, stem, leaves and flowers seem discrete entities, yet are in fact part of the ongoing metamorphosis of life as plant. In this sense, life is an emergent process.13

12

Compare the times of life proposed by Tim Ingold, Evolution and Social Life (Cambridge, New York, Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1986). 13 Johann W. Goethe, ‘Essay on the Metamorphosis of Plants’, Journal of Botany (1893); Brian Goodwin, ‘The Life of Form. Emergent Patterns of Morphological Transformation’, Comptes Rendus de l’Academie des Sciences, serie III – Sciences de la Vie – Life Sciences 323, no. 1 (2000): 15-21 ; Gabor Zemplen, ‘Form as Movement in Goethe’s « The Metamorphosis of Plants »’, at http://hps.elte.hu/~zemplen/goethemorph.html (accessed 5 January 2008).

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The proposed notion of time as change in movement of being recalls what Bergson understood by “duration as the stream against which we cannot go. It is the foundation of our being and, as we feel, the very substance of the world in which we live”.14 Bergson's real time (the duration of being) is identified with “the flowing movement of life and consciousness that is cumulative and progressive”.15 It is a useful notion of time to define the life-paths of beings, but if we look to the people's description of the different destinies they carry, this notion cannot explain the appearances of the different astrological andro that do not refer to any process. They appear as singular happenings appreciated in astrological practices as starting moments of any kind of activity (Table 1). Hence, we must look for ways of defining these happenings. Alahamady Adaoro Adizaoza Asorotany Alasaty Asombola Admizana Alakarabo Alakaosy Adijady Adalo Alohotsy

The fire that makes alive. The soil made alive by the fire of Alahamady. The water flooding the land not knowing any obstruction. The cold wind that brings snow or the owner of the jiny16 and the source of all the plants. Child of Asorotany that brings the smoking fire. The land that gives the destiny to the people. The andro of flat water. The stagnating wind, the wind that warms or the wind that makes fertile. The andro of the fire that became ashes. The andro that locks and ties or the land that gives strong roots. The child of Adijady that holds the water strongly, the tears for the dead or the immobile and rotten water of a lake. The last andro of the astrological year when the forces are exhausted. The lightest andro in the cycle and called the ascending wind that lit the fire. Table 1: The twelve astrological andro

14

Henri Bergson, Creative Evolution, trans. Arthur Mitchell (1911; Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1984) in Ingold, Evolution and Social Life, 128. 15 Bergson, Creative Evolution, in Ingold, Evolution and Social Life, 128. 16 It is not easy to find a good translation for jiny since this kind of force has many different manifestations. In my PhD thesis I argue that jiny are in origin the forces of decomposition of both matter and spirit. But when they are caught in the flux of life, they can also become entangled with matter and spirits. Christel Mattheeuws, ‘Towards an Anthropology in Life: The Astrological Architecture of Zanadroandrena Land in West Bezanozano, Madagascar’ (PhD diss., University of Aberdeen, 2008), 138-141.

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Can we do that by understanding continuous change in movement as continuous birth? While flow and becoming appreciates being or form in movement, continuous birth refers to that which happens in movement. These happenings are always relational. Take for example the sun, called masoandro, the ‘eye or germ of the day’. The Zanadroandrena explain the changes of sunlight in relation to the sun’s path when it approaches the earth or when it is distant from the earth. When the sun approaches the earth, then its light becomes yellow, then red and finally black as the earth. If we take the destiny of the sun as bringing the day—this means generally giving life—then any moment of the day is a new emerging germ of the day, a life-giving moment in the perpetual realisation of the sun's destiny. Each moment is different according to the position of the sun in relation to the earth. The appearance of new moon and its different shapes is understood in the relationship between the moon’s path and the path of the sun. When their path coincide—they appear and go down at the same time—the moon is invisible, a dark moon. When their paths start to take distance from each other, a new moon appears; when the moon rises in the east at the moment of sunset, it is full. The waning moon that is visible in the west in the morning has a negative appreciation, since it is as if it wants to take over the leadership of the day, the sun's role.17

The double calendar The appearances of the astrological andro are also relational. In Zanadroandrena perception they are born in a particular moment in the solar year, hence they embody a destiny that they carry on and on, whenever and wherever they go. The meaning of the andro brought by the new moon is understood in the relationship between the appearance of the new moon, the seasons and—maybe in the past as we will see—also the zodiac constellations. Since one moon year is eleven days shorter than a solar year, the new moon carrying a specific andro drifts backward against the solar year for approximately thirty-three years before it reaches again approximately the same place in the solar year. That particular year is called a ‘big year’ because the path of the moon, the sun and the stars is said to meet. The conjunction of life-paths or time-cycles does not at all create an atemporal state of being as argued by Geertz, who explains the

17

Mattheeuws, ‘Astrological Architecture of Zanadroandrena Land’, 325-32.

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different senses of time in Bali.18 In our example this conjunction gives birth to the andro as invisible forces, brought by the new moon in a specific relation with the yearly path of the sun and stars. Zanadroandrena astrological practice, which follows a lunar year, cannot be understood without its relation to the solar year. For the Zanadroandrena, the astrological calendar and Gregorian calendar occurring simultaneously side by side in print is something very natural and central in all economic, social and cultural activities (Fig. 1). This contradicts Raison, who argues that the emphasis of the solar year over the lunar one in the first print of a double calendar by the Missionary Society of London in February 1864 in Antananarivo killed the Merina-lived time.19 This lived time was lunar for agricultural practice and also for the cultural celebration of nature’s fertility and society’s collective dynamism in history through the yearly ritual of the Royal Bath. After the disappearance of the ceremony of the Royal Bath, continues Raison, astrological practice became a more private matter for house building, famadihana (second burial), or marriage, using the astrological lunar calendar separated from the solar year.20 Whether the Zanadroandrena approach is a contemporary autochthonous way of dealing with the double calendar initially established by a foreign power in order to break through traditions or whether the printed double calendar became a new body in which already existing understandings of life could take shape and further develop is a topic for additional research. I will outline this now in the comparison of different calendars from Madagascar, India and Indonesia (Table 2).

Riddles from the past present today The Alimanaka and the TetyAndro: a relational view People in West Bezanozano use the same astrological calendar with Arabic zodiacal months as the Merina of the central highlands, still printed in the capital city Antananarivo. It is, however, difficult to compare their astrological practices since the moving astrological lunar months are rooted in different solar months. Among the Merina, the androAlahamady 18

Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (London: Fontana Press; New York: Basic Books, 1973). 19 Françoise Raison, ‘A Madagascar: Le Temps comme Enjeu Politique’, Annales. Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations 2 (1981): 143-167. 20 In 1897, according to J. C. Hébert, ‘Le Calendrier Zodiacal Merina’, in Etude sur l’Océan Indien, Collection des Travaux de l’Univerité de la Réunion (1984), Numero Réalisé par le programme ‘islam’ de l’université: 121-84.

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has its origin in the month of August/September and in West Bezanozano its forces are equivalent to the sky and weather in the month of November/December. In that respect, the West Bezanozano calendar is closer to the lived time in East Bezanozano, where people use a seasonal calendar called tetyandro, ‘going through the days or seasons’. This calendar is of Indian origin and names twelve months derived from Sanskrit as follows: Asaramanitra, Vatravatra, Asotry, Tsihe, Valasira (Tsimakamaka), Fosa (Valasira), Makabe (Atsia), Atsia (Afosa), Sakamasay, Sakave, Volambita, Asaramantsina.21 This calendar is also widespread in many Southeast Asian countries.22 The tetyandro was known all over Madagascar in the past but has never been studied in relation to astrology as is the case in India and Southeast Asia.23 In Madagascar this art is only confined to regions where the seasonal calendar has been ‘replaced’ by the alimanaka, considering the androAlahamady as equivalent to the seasonal month Asaramanitra.24 In the course of the 1960’s, Hébert published several articles in the journal Bulletin de Madagascar about the tetyandro showing that (similar to the alimanaka) the series of twelve months hardly differs throughout Madagascar, but the months vary locally in reference to the Gregorian months and in the month that people choose as the beginning of a new year.25 The East Bezanozano calendar is not included in his studies, but it

21

There was some confusion for certain months among my informants (therefore the addition in brackets). The months Sakamasay, Volambita and Atsia (Hiahia) are replacements with Austronesian roots for, respectively, the Sanskrit months Caitra, Jyaistha and Phalungi (Philippe Beaujard, Les Mondes de l’Océan Indien, 2 Vols., L’Océan Indien, au Coeur des Globalisations de l’Ancien Monde (7e-15e Siècles) (Paris: Editions Armand Colin, 2012), Vol. 2, 364. 22 J. L. Brandes, ‘De Maandnaam Hapit’, Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 41, no. 1 (1899): 19-31; J.C. Eade, ‘The calendrical systems of mainland South-East Asia’, Handbook of Oriental Studies, Vol. 3 (Leiden, New York, Koln: E.J. Brill, 1995); Türstig Hans-Greorg, Jyotisha, das System der Indischen Astrology (Wiesbade: Franz Steinder Verlag, 1980). 23 In some areas in West Madagascar this Sanskrit calendar has been superimposed on an even older numerical calendar of yet unclear origin (P. Beaujard, Les Mondes de l’Océan Indien 2, 364). 24 The equivalence between Alahamady and Asaramanitra is widely accepted among scholars. Nevertheless a fieldtrip to the Tandroy in the area of Toalangaro (South Madagascar, 2012) has revealed that this is not always the case since I gathered information about a calendar system that links Alahamaly with Sakamasy. 25 J. C. Hébert, ‘Les Calendriers Provinciaux Malgaches’, Bulletin de Madagascar 172 (1960): 809-20 ; ‘Documents pour un Atlas Linguistique des Calendries

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is identical to the calendar of the Betsimisaraka, who live east of the Bezanozano. Hébert also observed that there is least confusion about the months in the period between Sakamasay and Tsihe. This is indeed the case in East Bezanozano where this period covers the time of the rice cultivation. Returning to the Merina-West Bezanozano case, during my survey I noticed that the relationship between the solar months and the alimanaka in West Bezanozano was identical to the relationship between the solar months and the tetyandro in East Bezanozano, making Alahamady equivalent to Asaramanitra and the month of December. The Merina-West Bezanozano case shows that the same astrological calendar can be very different in its relation to the solar year and—as we will see— also the lunar year and the starry sky. I will show now that this is not only a matter of climatic, environmental or socio-cultural differences but also a matter of the development of calendars according to observations of the relational movements of the sun, moon and stars in both the morning and evening sky (see Table 2).26 The Sanskrit calendar in India is originally a lunar calendar (from at least 2400 BC) based on the daily motion of the moon in one month. Each day is one nakshatra (lunar mansion), named after a star or an asterism in the area occupied by the moon during its journey from new until dark moon. Out of the resulting twenty-seven or twenty-eight nakshatras, a lunar year calendar is formed from the names of the asterism where either the full moon at the beginning of a month, most common in North India, or the new moon at the end of a month, most common in South India, is pointing to. This means that the calendar can differ by two weeks and the name of one month with reference to the solar year. For example, New Year starts in Caitra for those who take the appearance of full moon in the east as reference point and in Phalungi for those who watch new moon disappear at the western horizon. Under influence of the Greek (400 BC), a relation to the zodiac (raashi) and its relation to the sun were added. This has brought some changes along in the course of the development of calendars. Until today the lunar calendar is still in use for religious Provinciaux Malgaches’, Bulletin 191 (1962): 339-52 ; ‘Les Calendriers Saisonniers à Madagascar’, Bulletin 260 (1968): 42-5. 26 While I use first-hand information about Madagascar and in particular the Bezanozano and Betsimisaraka, I draw the information about India and Indonesia from literature. The sources I used seem to give generalised information, since according to Mario Friscia, in India, for example, the local calendars differ as much as is the case in Madagascar (personal communication, Tenth Annual Conference of the Sophia Centre for the Study of Cosmology in Culture, 2012). However, this information does not challenge my argument.

The Journey of Calendars, Wind and Life in the Indian Ocean East Bezanozano and Betsimisaraka

Equivalent Gregorian Months

West Bezanozano (Zanadroandrena)

‘TetyAndro’

‘Volana’

‘Alimanaka’

Asaramanitra

Novambra/ Desambra

Alahamady (Sawwal)

Aries (Hamal, Mesha)

Desambra/ Zanvie Zanvie/ Fevrie Fevrie/ Marsa

Adaoro

Taurus

Vatravatra

Equivalent Zodiac Sign in Lating (Arabic, Indian)

Adizaoza

Gemini

Asorotany

Cancer

Volasina

Marsa/ Avrily

Alasaty

Leo

Fosa

Avrila/ Mey

Asombela

Virgo

Makabe

Mey/Jiona

Admizana

Libra

Atsia

Jiona/ Jolay

Alakarabo

Sakamasay

Jolay/ Aogostra

Asotry Tsihe

Sakave Volamhita Asaramantsina

Aogostra/ Septambra Septambra/ Oktobra Oktobra/ Novambra

Equivalent Zodiac Sign in Latin by Full moon (by solar transit)

Nak‫܈‬atras occupied by full moon

Aquarius (Leo)

Shravana

Pisces (Virgo) Aries (Libra) Taurus (Scorpio) Gemini (Sagittarius ) Cnacer (Capricorn) Leo (Aquarius)

India

Bhadrapad a Ashwini Krittika Mrigashira Pushya Maghaa

Equivalent Gregorian Months for India, Saka calendar (and dates start pranatamangas month)

Aug/Sept (24 Aug) Sept/Oct (17 Sept) Oct/Nov (12 Oct) Nov/Dec (8 Nov)

Posyamasa (Kanem, Ka-6)

Dec/Jan (21 Dec) Jan/Febr (2 Febr)

Marghamasa (Kapitu, Ka-7) Phalgunamasa (Kawolu, Ka-8) Cetramasa (Kasanga, Ka9) Wesakhamasa (Kasepuluh, Kadasa, Ka-10) Jyesthamasa (Dhesta, Desta) Asadhamasa (Sadna, Desta)

Scorpio

Phalungi

Febr/Mar (end Febr)

Alakaosy

Sagittarius

Libra (Aries)

Caitra

Mar/Apr (25 Mar)

Adijady

Capricorn

Adalo

Aquarius

Alohotsy

Pisces

Capricorn (Cancer)

Vaisakha Jyaestha Asadha

Java, Bali Saka Calendar and (‘PranataMangsa’)

Bhadrawadama sa (Kara, Ka-2) Asujimasa (Katiga, Ka-3) Kartikamasa (Kapat, Ka-4) Margasiramasa (Kalima, Ka-5)

Jul/Aug (2 Aug)

Virgo (Pisces)

Scorpio (Taurus) Sagittarius (Gemini)

295

Apr/May (18 Apr) May/Jun (11 May) Jun/Jul (22 Jun, Sawwal)

Srawanamasa (Kasa, Ka-1)

Table 2: Comparison of calendars from Madagascar, India and Indonesia.

festivities and in astrology. The raashi in this calendar are integrated by taking 9/4th nakshatras as the measure of one raashi. This shows that Caitra (March/April), for example, is a star or asterism in the neighbourhood of Virgo/Libra. The present Indian national calendar is an example of a luni-solar calendar that coincides more or less with the Gregorian solar year. In this calendar the name of the lunar month is based on the solar transits at full moon, making Caitra coincide with the solar month of Mesha (Aries). In this example the original meaning of Caitra as the name of a star or asterism in the neighbourhood of Virgo/Libra pointed to by full or new moon is lost and the solar month takes on the same name of the lunar one.27 27 S. Balakrishna, ‘Names of Stars from the Period of Vedas’, at http://www.geocities.com/vijayabalak/stars/nakshathra.html (accessed 19 November 2003); Shukla Kripa Shankar, ‘Main Characteristics and Achievements of Ancient Indian Astronomy in Historical Perspective’, in G. Swarup, A. K. Bag and K. S. Shukla, eds., The History of Oriental Astronomy: Proceedings of the International Astronomical Union Colloquium, 91, New Delhi (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 9-22; Chakravarty, ‘The

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In the first millennium AD, the Sanskrit calendar spread to several Southeast Asian countries, such as Cambodia, Thailand, Myanmar (Burma) and Indonesia (Bali, Java, Sumatra), where it took part in the continuous development of the multiple calendars in the area. The Saka calendar in Bali (still in use) and in Java (used between the eighth and sixteenth century) conforms to the Indian luni-solar calendar except in the manner of naming the lunar months.28 These are named after the solar month in which the new moon occurs, the time at which the lunar month ends and the next one starts. Therefore the Balinese and Javanese lunar months have names one month ahead of the Indian ones. I found only three references to the integration of zodiac constellations in the calendar based on the solar transits, even for astrological use; these link either Caitra or Vaisakha to Aries.29 The presence of the Sanskrit calendar in Madagascar is most probably due to Austronesian immigrants from the Indo-Malay archipelago who came to Madagascar from the seventh century onwards.30 Hébert argues that the first settlers on the west coast and in the south of Madagascar originally used some of the calendar terms to denote seasons,31 while later immigrants brought the knowledge of the complete mensal calendar, yet used it in different ways according to region.32As far as I know, the Asterisms’, in The History of Oriental Astronomy, 23-8; D. C. Sircar, Indian Epigraphy (Delhi, Varanasi, Patna: Motilal Banardsidass, 1965); Türstig, Jyotisha, das System der Indischen Astrology. 28 Named after the Indian Saka era that starts 78 AD. 29 Peter W. Pink, Wariga: Beitragezur Balinesischen Divinationsliteratur (Berlin: Dietrich Reimer Verlag, 1993), 234; J. L. Brandes, ‘De maand naam Hapit’: 27; S. K. Chatterjee, ‘Balinese Traditional Calendar’, Indian Journal of History of Science 32, no. 4 (1997): 335, for the information about the integration of the zodiac constellations. For information about the Sanskrit calendar in South East Asia see J. C. Eade, ‘The calendrical systems of mainland South-East Asia’; von Johs. Winkler, ‘The Calendar of the Toba-Batak of Sumatra’, trans. Linda A. Kimball, Archaeoastronomy 11 (1988): 20-27; Gene Ammarel, ‘Sky Calendars of the Indo-Malay Archipelago: Regional Diversity/Local Knowledge’, Indonesia 45 (1988): 84-104; P. W. Pink, Wariga; F. Van den Bosch, ‘Der Javanische Mangsa Kalender’, Bijdragen tot taal-, land- envolkenkunde 136 (1980): 251-82. 30 Hébert, ‘Les Calendriers Provinciaux Malgaches’; ‘Documents pour un Atlas Linguistique des Calendries Provinciaux Malgaches’; ‘Les Calendriers Saisonniers à Madagascar’. 31 Asara: rainy season, Asotry: the beginning of the winter, Fosa: dry season. 32 This is contested by Simon (Pierre R. Simon, La Langue des Ancêtres. NyFitenin-dRazana. Une Périodisation du Malgache de l’origine au XVe Siècle (Paris : L’Harmattan, 2006) ; and in Beaujard, Les Mondes de l’Océan Indien, 2, 364).

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tetyandro is a solar calendar in East Bezanozano, where the meanings of the different months follow closely the weather events and the rice cultivation without the moon playing any role in local rituals.33 This covers the meaning of the calendar name tetyandro, ‘summing up, regulating or going through the days or seasons’. Is it coincidence that the translation of pranatamangsa, a peasant calendar in Bali and Java, carries exactly the same meaning? The pranatamangsa is a calendar that has been locally developed, yet with some references to the Sanskrit calendar. Apart from the last two months following the Sanskrit calendar (Desta and Sadha), the other months are generally numerical. The length of the months varies from twenty-three days to forty-one days. It gives a mixture of information about the summer and winter solstices and the zenith points of the sun (Ka 1, 7, 5, 9), the length of shadows, information concerning farming activities, changes in the natural environment and, last but not least, the Orion year related to the monsoons dividing the year in a rainy season and a dry one. Like the users of the pranatamangsa, the Zanadroandrena say that the Belt of Orion divides the year in the same way as the sun divides the day. They also use a reference with the sun to express its position in the morning or evening sky. For example, in Bezanozano, Orion is seen at the eastern horizon at dawn ‘like the sun at 7am’ around 20 June, or it culminates in the end of August ‘like the December sun at noon’. The Zanadroandrena pay most attention to its position around the month of May. Then it dips in the early evening low in the west and is seen through the window of the house while sitting on the conjugal bed. This moment marks the start of the rice harvest, however, accompanied by the treat of hail showers.34 “Hail is caused by a clash between the cold southeast wind brought along by the autumn month of March and a sudden return of the warm northwest wind of the summer” as the farmers explained to me. It is a natural phenomenon and people cannot and do not pretend to stop it. But by means of magic, called fangidyrambo, ‘closing the greens’, they have the capacity to avert hail and to ensure that it will not appear above the rice fields and destroy the harvest. The end of the fangidyrambo is fixed at the moment when the rice growing on a particular field is ripe and is called vakyrambo, ‘breaking through (of) the greens’. Although rambo is defined by the people as ‘all the green vegetation in and around marshes’, it might have carried in the past its original meaning as ‘tail’ to refer to the tail of 33

Maybe everywhere in Madagascar, but this has to be carefully studied. For examples of other Malagasy groups see P. Beaujard, ‘The First Migrants to Madagascar and Their Introduction of Plants: Linguistic and Ethnological Evidence’, Azania 46, no. 2 (2011): 169-189.

34

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Scorpio, the counterpart of Orion. In the period of the ripening of rice, when Orion starts to dip very low in the west in the early evening, Scorpio appears in the east. By about mid-April its tail will become visible, vakyrambo. If Orion was a meaningful constellation in earlier times for people, indicating the beginning of the harvest, the chance is also high that its counterpart has also been meaningful. Not only does the rice ripen in the confusing weather events that could be reflected in the movements of Orion and Scorpio, but also the people have very ambiguous feelings in this period. Yes, they feel happy when observing the rice ripening in the fields during the months of March and April. Nevertheless, these months are very often difficult to get through. For some families they are months of famine because ‘the granaries are empty while the rice in the fields cannot yet be harvested’, as this period of the year is described. The month of March on the tetyandro of East Bezanozano is called tsihe, ‘having no source’. This can refer to the cessation of the urge of vegetative life of the rice plant, and also to the exhaustion of rice as the source of life for the people. The temporary famine can be seen as part of the fangidyrambo. People eat other things like manioc or pumpkin, but going to sleep without a rice meal means much the same as to sleep hungrily.35 Although the first month of the pranatamangsa and the East Bezanozano calendar is in both cases an equivalent of the Sanskrit month Shravana (Ka-1 in the pranatamangsa and Asaramanitra in East Bezanozano), there is a big difference between both in their equivalent Gregorian months. Ka-1 is defined by the appearance of the Orion Belt in the east just before sunrise in June/July, heralding the start of the secondary cultivations after a dead period of two months and before the start of the rice season. On the contrary, in East Bezanozano Asaramanitra sets the rice cultivation into motion when the belt of Orion appears in the east on a December evening. This was until recently preceded by rituals in October (Volambita) opening the year and a taboo month of November, Asaramantsina, ‘stinking month’. In Bali and Java November is the month Ka-5 or Ka-6 when the bun upas, ‘poisonous dew or bloom’, falls.36 I wonder if the negative connotation of November in both cultures could be related to Orion having disappeared in the west mornings before it will reappear again in the east at night in the beginning of December. I mentioned earlier that I found only a few references on the integration of zodiac constellations in the pranatamangsa calendar, based on the solar transits linking Ka-10 (Vaisakha) to Aries, similar to the 35 36

Mattheeuws, ‘Astrological Architecture of Zanadroandrena Land’: 194-96. J. L. Brandes, ‘De Maand naam Hapit’, 28.

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present Indian national calendar. According to Hébert, there is also only very limited evidence that the zodiac constellations are or have been known in Madagascar. Moreover, the evidence he found is only connected to the alimanaka, which uses a Malagasy version of the Arabic zodiac names, and not to the Sanskrit calendar.37 However, I propose reviewing this claim based on the results of a computer simulation of the new moon evening sky during the Zanadroandrena ‘big year’ 2003—this is when the astrological months took in their original position in the solar year after having been wandering against the seasons for about 30 years. This simulation shows the zodiac constellations equivalent to their original Arabic meaning in the moment of their culmination.38 Although I cannot use this as proof of a particular comprehension of the important stars and knowledge of the zodiac constellations, present local discourse point to an actual relationship between astrological months and the culmination of their equivalent zodiac constellations in earlier days. Namely, the high and low positions that people contribute to the places of birth (birth andro in place) coincide with the differences in culmination points of the equivalent zodiac constellations. A person who is born in the andro Alakaosy, for example, will most likely become an extraordinarily good healer. “He has direct access to the secrets of the world because he is born on the top of the highest hill, able to see and support all the forces of or in all directions” people say. The equivalent zodiac constellation of Alakaosy is Sagittarius, indeed the highest zodiac constellation in the southern hemisphere, culminating in the zenith during the month of August in the first part of the night. This argument is supported by Dez, who writes that the hierarchical organisation of the destinies in place is a local adaptation of the Arabic zodiacal calendar and astrology,39 while according to Ammarel, the observation of the (heliacal) culminations of stars for calendrical purposes is a unique feature of the Indo-Malay archipelago and mostly put into practice in places where dense forest obstructs the horizon.40 The observations of Dez and Ammarel bear out the puzzling linguistic link between the Malagasy language and Manjaan from central Borneo and my contention that one cannot reach an exhaustive understanding of the lunar calendar of Arabic origin (in Bezanozano)

37

J. C. Hébert, ‘Le Comput Ancien des Années Malagasy (2), Bulletin de Madagascar 237 (1966): 106, 135-39. 38 Alahamady being Aries and so on. 39 J. Dez, ‘Essai sur le Calendrier Arabico-Malgache’, Etude sur l’Ocean Indien, 1984: 74. 40 G. Ammarel, ‘Sky Calendars of the Indo-Malay Archipelago’, 95.

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without taking its relation to the Sanskrit calendar into consideration.41 Another example of an astronomical zenith perception among the West Bezanozano is the sacred androAlahamady as the December sun having reached the zenith and about to decline at 1pm or the life-path of the seasonal forces led by the wind reaching its culmination in the month of November, the androAlohotsy. This is the last andro to appear in the astrological cycle, carrying along the destiny of the wind having become so light and drained that it ascends and ignites the fire Alahamady.

The Alimanaka, PranataMangsa and the riddle of Sawwal This brings us to a last striking similarity between the Indonesian pranatamangsa and the alimanaka of the central highlands and West Bezanozano: the equivalence between the Islamic month Ramadan and Alohotsy. Van den Bosch writes that the divisions of time among the Javanese is partly native, partly Hindu and partly Arabic (and a small part European). The newest form of the pranatamangsa in Java was initiated by the sultan Paku Buwana VII of Surakarta on Friday, 7 Sawwal 1783 (22 June 1855), integrating the Islamic moving lunar months that had been in use since 1625 AD. Although Sawwal is only the tenth lunar month in the Islamic calendar, it is through this latest adaption linked to the first month of the pranatamangsa (Ka-1, Kasada). Conforming to the backward movements through the seasons of the Islamic months, Sawwal will come back to its original place in relation to the pranatamangsa every 33 years.42 Van den Bosch does not give any reason for the choice of Sawwal as the date of integration into the pranatamangsa, though, as the month coming after Ramadan, it could mean a rupture from the fast and a new start when all the sins have been forgiven after the fasting. Is it possible that the interpretation of Ramadan and the end of it by the celebrations on the 1st Sawwal is somehow different in the Arabic world, where Islam originated, compared to other places where Islam has been introduced? Hébert shows that the first month of the numerical lunar calendar of the Swahili of East Africa and the Comorian farmers is also equivalent to Sawwal, making a difference of 4 months in comparison to the Islamic names of the lunar months. The same difference is observed in the calendars of literate Comorians, the Antalaotra (People from the Sea) of 41 Otto Dahl, Migration from Kalimantan to Madagascar (Oslo: Norwegian University Press, 1991). Until today, scholars are puzzled about the fact that the foundation of the Malagasy language is more strongly linked to the forest dwelling Dayaks than the seafaring Malays. 42 F. Van den Bosch, ‘Der Javanische Mangsa Kalender’: 250.

The Journey of Calendars, Wind and Life in the Indian Ocean

301

North West Madagascar and the Merina (also used in West Bezanozano) where the numerical calendar is replaced by the names of the Arabic zodiacal months, making an equivalence between Sawwal and Alahamady. This discrepancy shows, according to Hébert, a close relationship between the Swahili calendar, the ones in the Comoros and also the Antalaotra and Merina calendars. The last one, he says, was adapted by King Ralambo (1610-1620) in place of the Sanskrit calendar, most likely through mediation from the North West Antalaotra travellers and merchants and not through the mediation of the South East Antaimoro as is often assumed. The use of the Arabic zodiacal months is not so strange, writes Hébert, since they were well known among sea travellers and merchants who used to learn the rhythmic movements of the sea by following the position of the sun in the zodiac developing a solar calendar. Hébert cannot convince me, however, when he claims that the calendar became lunar among the Merina since, settled inland, they did not need to know the seasonal changes for navigation. According to him, the Merina kept the names of the solar months within a Swahili kind of lunar calendar. I point to the fact that Arabic astronomy has always had its astrological counterpart where the moon and planets played an important role apart from the sun. I recognise this double existence in Zanadroandrena astrology, where people walk along the paths of the sun with the Orion belt establishing seasonality and the four cardinal directions on the one hand while also blending with the perpetual growth and decay of the moon that brings the destinies of all life forms on earth on the other hand. Although Hébert mentions the presence in the Malagasy past of Arabic names of the lunar mansions, a system borrowed from the Indians, he does not treat this system differently from the calendar used in navigation.43 I also follow Beaujard and treat the Arab-Persian influences in the Indian Ocean world with caution. According to him, it is far from settled whether the solar zodiac calendar used in navigation is of Arabic, Persian or even Shirazi origin.44,45 I am puzzled as well about the fact that in the Merina case a lunar astrological calendar is said to have replaced a seasonal one in a mostly agrarian community. Among the Swahili for example, a solar calendar remained alongside the lunar one. The present use of a double calendar among the Zanadroandrena, in a particular luni-solar way, hints either towards a differentiation between practices among an urban elite and agrarian communities or to a misunderstanding of the calendar and astrology in general as exemplified in this article. Nevertheless, the Merina 43

J. C. Hébert, ‘Le Calendrier Zodiacal Merina’: 163-177. Swahili who claim to be descended from merchant princes from Shiraz in Persia. 45 Beaujard, Les Mondes de l’Océan Indien, Vol. 2, 301. 44

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lunar calendar certainly played an important role in the Kingdom to settle the date of the Royal Bath rituals as the start of a new year until late in the nineteenth century, which always coincided with the end of Ramadan in the Muslim world.46 Today, the alimanaka is still in step with this chronology. But although the celebration of New Year has been restored in the area of Antananarivo as the celebration of Alahamady Be or Asaramanitra, this festivity has been fixed since the last decennium in the period around March/April using the solar transit in Aries in accordance with western astrology. This new custom has nothing to do with the original calendar and its practices anymore.

Conclusion: the origin of Zanadroandrena astrology As mentioned in the beginning of this paper, there is no doubt that Arabic astrology and the Islamic calendar has left its traces on the island of Madagascar and in the region of Imerina and Bezanozano. Apart from the moving lunar months and the Arabic zodiac names, there are some interesting similarities in the understanding of the zodiac signs among the Zanadroandrena. Nevertheless, we should be careful with the claim that astrology in Madagascar is of Arabic origin since the Sanskrit calendar known in Madagascar is also used for astrological purposes in India and South East Asia. I was initially struck by the similarities of lived time in East and West Bezanozano where different calendars are used, one of Indian origin and one of Arabic origin. I have compared the pranatamangsa from Java and Bali with these calendars, and some cultural features of the Zanadroandrena from West Bezanozano to show some likely direct or indirect links and affinities with the Indo-Malay Archipelago. There is however still need for extensive research to establish the dimensions of the role South East Asia might have played in the development of astrology on the island and in Bezanozano in particular.

46

J. C. Hébert, ‘Le Comput Ancien des Années Malagasy (1)’, Bulletin de Madagascar 236 (1966): 29-62 ; ‘Le Comput Ancien (2)’: 109-39. Nevertheless, the ritual itself is compared with events in South-East Asia (Beaujard, Les Mondes de l’Océan Indien, Vol. 2, 365-6).

INDEX

A Confutation of Astrological Daemonology, 161 A Defence of Judiciall Astrologie, 159, 161 A Treatise Against Iudicial Astrologie, 161 Abell, George, 177 Abhiùeka, 75, 91 Abu Ma‘shar al-Balkhi, 23, 159, 162-165, 167-168, 172 Adorno, Theodor W., 179-180 Al-Biruni, Abu Rayhan, 65 al-Kindi, Ya‘qub ibn Ishaq, 162165, 169-170 Al-Madkhal al-kabir ila ‘ilm ahkam al-nujum (The Great Introduction of the Science of the Judgments of the Stars), 159, 162 Almagest, 105 Almanac(s) (hemerologies) Babylonian, 190, 194, 198, 201204, 209 An Lushan, 24, 26 Andro, meanings, 286-292, 299-300 12 astrological months, 287 Day, 286 Invisible life force, 287 Quality of the weather, 286 A৆ga(s), 55, 57, 63 Anselmi, Giorgio, 145-148, 151-152 Apollo, 105-107 Apotelesmatika, 117 Aratus, 96, 104-105

Arcana, 68, 75-78, 80-83, 90-91 øani arcana, 68, 75, 77-78, 8183, 90 Archetypes, 183 Aristotle, 166-167 ArthaĞƗstra of Kau‫ܒ‬ilƯya, 54, 58 Astrolabe B, 98 Astrologomania, 162 Astrology, 288, 293, 295 Andro, 287 Arabic, 282, 299, 302 Babylonian, 4-5, 7, 10, 58 Chinese (jp., tenmon; ch., tianwen, ‘heavenly patterns’), 3-4, 22-23, 26-29, 35-38, 40, 43, 45-52 Electional, 282 Esoteric, 182-183 Hellenistic, 27, 30, 36-37 Hindu (Indian), 37, 54, 58, 6465, 68-69, 74, 87, see Jyotiৢa Horoscopic, 27-28, 31-34, 44-52 Musical correspondences, 132 Portent, 10 Psychological, 180, 183-184 Ptolemaic, 27 SƗsƗnian, 3 Western, 3-4, 302 Zanadroandrena, 301 Astromancy, 3 Astronomy Babylonian, 7 Calendric, 35, also see Rekidǀ, Chinese, 4, 22 Babylonian Almanac, 195, 200, 204-208, 210-211

304 Babylonian Horoscope, 227, 234 Bacon, Francis, 171 Bacon, Roger, 164 Bailey, Alice Ann, 182 Bergson, Henri, 290 Bezold, Carl, 4-8 Brahe, Tycho, 159 BrƗhma৆a(s), 53, 56, 61-66 Brahmavaivarta mahƗ purƗ۬a, 65 B‫܀‬hat saۨhitƗ, 56, 60-61, 63, 107 Calendar(s) Administrative/civil, 193-194, 227, 234 Alimanaka (lunar), 281, 283, 292-295, 299-300, 302 Arab zodiacal, 299, 301 Aramaic, 217, 244 Astrological, 291-292, 294 Babylonian 360-day zodiac, 218219, 222-223, 227, 243-244 Bali (Saka), 296 Cultic, 193, 199, 206, 216 East Bezanozano, 293, 298 Gregorian, 217 Hebrew, 217, 234 Islamic, 218, 300, 302 Julian, 217, 226 Luni-solar, 217-220, 223, 295296 Lunar, 193, 216, 217, 219-220, 292, 294, 301-302 Lunar zodiac, 221, 225, 232, 244 Merina, 301 Omen, 194-195, 200-201, 203, 209-210, 213 Pranatamangsa, 297, 302 Sanskrit, 294, 296-297, 299-300 Seleucid, 243 Solar, 217, 219, 223, 297, 301 Swahili, 301 TetyAndro, 293 West Bezanozano, 293

Index Calendar Divination Texts, 192, 194, 200-203, 210 Zodiacal, 213-15 Carlton, George, 162 Causes Astral, 165-168 Efficient, 159, 162, 167, 169 Celestial Caiman, 251, 255, 258259, 261-263, 274-277 Chamber, John, 161-162, 164, 166, 168, 170-172 Chaoskampf, 250-252, 277-278 Chavannes, Édouard, 4, 6 Chilam Balam of Tizimin, 246, 254 Chunqiu (Spring and Autumn Annals), 10-11 Cicero, Marcus Tullius, 133-134 Constellations, 296, 298-299 Hindu, Rà÷i/raashi (solar constellations), 69, 79, 294-295 Contingency, 185 Copernicus, Nicolaus, 159, 171 Cosmoecology, 283 Critodemus, 117 Daiva, 59-60, 64 Daivajña, 54-55, 60, 65-66 Daressy Table, 115 De Musica, 145 De radiis, 162-164, 170 De revolutionibus orbium coelestium (On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres), 159 Dead Sea Scrolls, 217 Dee, John, 163-165 Deities, Mayan Bolon ti K’u (the Nine Gods), 254 Chahk (rain deity), 263, 265-266

Astrology in Time and Place Itzam Cab Ain (Earth Caiman), 254, 258 Itzam Nah (creator deity), 258 Mixcoatl ( ‘Cloud Serpent’), 253 Oxlahun ti Ku (the Thirteen Gods), 254 Quetzalcoatl, 253 Tezcatlipoca, 253 Tlaltecuhtli (Cipactli), 253-254 Zero-Square-Nosed-Beastie (Mars Beast), 258-260, 263, 265, 274 Dharma, 53, 62, 66 DharmaĞƗstras, 53-54, 62, 64, 66 Diffusion, 5 Digges, Thomas, 159 Divination, 6-7, 21-22 Astral, 6, 22 Mesopotamian, 167 Dodecaoros, 116, 127 Dodekatemoria Scheme, 227-230, 243-244 Doùa, 76 Dresden Codex, 246-247, 254, 258259, 261, 263, 265-266, 269-270, 273-274 Egypt, 95-96, 101-104, 106-108 Ennjma Anu Enlil, 195, 215 Enuma Elish, 251-252 Eriugena, John Scotus, 148-153 Experience, evidential, 175-177, 184 Ficino, Marsilio, 169 Fujiwara no Sanesuke, 41, 43-45, 47, 49, 51-52 Futian-li calendrical system, 30, 33, 36 Galilei, Galileo, 160, 163 Gauquelin, Michel, 178 Gautama Dharma Snjtra, 56

305

Gautama Siddha (Qutan Xida), 24 Gemini, 95-96, 101-107 Geocentric, 159, 161, 174, 180 Goethe, Johann, 289 Graha(m) (planets/planet), 57, 64, 73-77, 80, 82, 88-89 GrahaĞƗnti, 31, 54 Great Twins, 97-103 Greece, 95-96 Greek Greater System, 134-139, 143 Gujin tushu jicheng (Complete Collection of Illustrations and Writings from Ancient Times to the Present), 16 Han Shu (History of the Former Han Dynasty), 11, 20 Handbuch religionswissenschaftlicher Grundbegriffe (Handbook of Basic Concepts in Religious Studies), 180 Harmonices Mundi, 152-154 Heian, 28-30, 35, 39, 46-47, 51 Heliocentric, 159, 161 Hemerologies, see Almanacs Hephaestio of Thebes, 117 Herakles, 105-107 Heydon, Sir Christopher, 159, 161162, 164-172 Hipparchus, 96, 105 Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas, 253 Histoyre du Mechique, 253-254 Homa (ritual), 75, 91 Homocentricity, 159, 161-162, 165, 170 Huainanzi (Book of Master Huainan), 18, 21

306 Iconography, 95-97, 99-100, 102, 105-108 IkhwƗn al-SafƗ’, 137 India, 95, 105-108 Judiciall Astrologie Judicially Condemned, 162 Jung, Carl Gustav, 183 Jupiter-Saturn conjunction, 23-24 Jyautiৢika, 55 Jyoti‫ۊ‬ĞƗstras, 53, 57, 61-63, 66 Jyotiৢa, 54, 60-61, 69; see Astrology, Hindu Kaiyuan zhanjing (Prognostication Canon of the Kaiyuan Reign Period), 24 Kalendertexte, 227 Kalpasnjtras, 58 KƗmandakƯyanƯtisƗra, 56 Karma(n), 64-65, 70, 76 KƗrtƗntika, 54-55 Kaৢ৬a, 64-65 Kastor, 104-105 Katarchic chart, 114, 121 Kepler, Johannes, 131, 146, 148, 150-157, 161, 178, 182 Kৢatrapas, western, 55 Kurkurru, 100 Kurukkaë, 71 La Leyenda de los Soles, 249 Lesser Twins, 97-98 Li Chunfeng, 16 Liber Hermetis, 119 Lilly, William, 161 Loan blends, 111-112, 126, 128 Loan shifts, 111 Loan words, 109, 111, 127-128

Index London-Leiden Magical Papyrus, 109, 119, 128 Lugalgirra, 98, 100, 102, 104 MahƗbhƗrata, 54-55, 107 Mantra(s), 74, 77-78, 80, 82, 87-91 Gàyatrã, 82, 88-89 Navagraha gàyatrã, 74 øani Bãja mantra, 81, 87, 89 øani Gàyatrã mantra, 88 øani Yajurvedic mantra, 80, 82, 87-88 Yajurvedic, 80, 82, 87-89 MƗshƗ’allƗh, 23, 26 Maternus, Julius Firmicus, 63 Mathematics and the Sciences of the Heavens and the Earth, 4 Matheseos Libri VIII, 63 Mauhnjrtika, 55 Maya Agricultural year, 245, 252, 262, 278-279 Bak’tun cycle, 245-246, 248249, 267, 270, 274, 278-279 Deep time, 263, 269, 274, 276277 Flood myth, 250, 252, 267 Long Count Cycle, 246, 250, 267, 269-270, 274 Mythology, 245, 249, 262 Prophecy Movement, 246 Serpent Series, 269-273 Medînet Mâdi, 109-110, 112-113, 123, 127-129 Menologies, 201 Meslamtaea, 98-99, 101, 104 Mesopotamia, 95-100, 103-105 Methodology Empirical, 173, 175, 177, 181, 185 Natural-scientific, 173-176 Religious, 184-185

Astrology in Time and Place Milky Way, 253, 255, 258-261, 263, 266-267, 270, 275-278 Mithuna, 95, 106-108 MuhnjrtacintƗma۬i, 62, 65 Mul.apin, 98, 194 Mårti, 67, 71, 74-78, 80, 89 Music of the Spheres, 151-152, 154155, 157 Music theory Greek, 134-135, 143 Myth of Er, 133 Mythology, Malagasy Andriamanitra (the Creator), 284 Zanahray (Children of the Creator), 284 Naimittika, 55 Nakৢatra(s)/Nakshatra(s), 31-32, 37, 57-59, 69, 79, 83, 90, 294 Navagraha (planetary deities), 6778, 82, 89-91 Needham, Joseph, 4-7, 21 Nergal, 98, 105 NƯlamata purƗ۬a, 62 Odyssey, 113 Olympiodorus, 188 Omen(s), 26, 55, 57-58, 60, 65 Astral, 26 Astrological, 195 Calendar, 195, 201, 209-210, 213 Literature, Mesopotamian, 57 Texts, 218 Thunder, 218 Omenology Astral, 6, 8, 17 On Conjunctions, Religions, and Peoples, 26 Onmyǀdǀ, 28, 30, 46 Ostraca, 109-110, 123-124, 126 Palenque Temple XIX, 250, 255, 258, 263, 269, 276

307

PañcƗৄgi, 57, also see Purohita PariĞi‫ܒ܈‬a of the Atharvaveda, 54-55, 59-60 Paulus Alexandrinus, 118, 122 Perspectiva, 164 Phalavedavid, 62 Philosophia perennis, 132 Pinax, 109, 112-114, 116-123, 125129 Planets Jupiter, 10-12, 20, 24 Mars, 6, 8-10, 21, 25, 176 Mercury, 20, 25 Musical correspondences, 131132, 137 Orbital speed(s), 143, 148-149, 151-152 Saturn, 25, 67, 69-72, 74, 77, 8889 Uranus, 184, 179 Venus, 9-10, 25, 67, 69, 72, 74, 76 Planets/luminaries, Hindu, also see Graha, Navagraha Budha (Mercury), 67, 69, 72, 74, 76 Cevvai (Mars), 67, 69, 72, 74, 76 Chandra (Moon), 67 Guru (Jupiter), 67, 69, 72-74, 76 Ketu (south lunar node), 67, 69, 72, 74, 76 Ràhu (north lunar node), 67, 69, 72, 74, 76 øani (Saturn), 67, 69-80, 83, 8790 øukra (Venus), 67, 69, 72, 74, 76 Sårya (Sun), 67, 69, 71-74, 76 Plato, 133-134, 157 Plutarch, 113-114, 117-118 Poeticon Astronomicon, 105 Polydeukes, 104-105 Popol Vuh, 257, 267, 279

308 Popper, Karl, 178-179 Portent, 10-12, 17, 26 Pradakùiõa, 82 Propaedeumata Aphoristica, 165 Ptolemy, 27-28, 33, 96, 105, 131, 134, 137, 146, 166-167 PurƗ৆as, 53, 56, 62 Purohita, 54-57, 60-61, 65 Puruৢkara, 64 Pythagoras, 134, 139-141, 157 Qi (materia vitalis), 10, 21 Quadrivium, 140 Qumran, 217-218, 227, 241, 243244 Zodiac calendar, 217-18, 224 Ramesey, William, 161-162 Rà÷i/raashi, see Constellations, Hindu, 69, 79, 294-295 Rekidǀ, 35 Relación de la Ciudad de Mérida, 262 Rhetorius, 118-119, 122 Rig Veda, 106 Ring, Thomas, 176, 180, 183-185 Rishu, 18 Rowland, William, 163 Sagittarius, 258, 261, 263, 266-267, 275, 277 SƗূvatsara, sƗূvatsarika, 55-56, 59-61, 65 øanai÷cara Aùñottara øatanàmàvali‫ۊ‬, 80, 83 øani aùñottiram, 87-88 Sannadhi, 73, 77, 79 SƗrdnjlakar۬ƗvadƗna, 62 SƗsƗnian, 3, 22-24, 26 Scales Musical, 137

Index Planetary, 135-136, 139, 143144, 153-154 Scripts Demotic, 109-112, 119-120, 122125, 127-128 Devanagari, 111 Greek, 109-112, 120, 122-125, 127-129 Shaivism, 67-68, 70, 90-91 Shiji (Grand Scribe’s Records), 11 Shǀynjki, 41-42, 46 Shu, 102-104, 107 Shuku (jp., astral lodges), 37 SiddhƗntas, 59 Silk Road, 27, 31 Sima Qian, 4, 7, 11, 24, 28, 38, 40 Sin (Moon God), 98, 102, 105 ĝiva, 57, 59, 70-71 Sky River (Milky Way), 12, 20 Sogdian, 22-24 Space-time, 21 Star-gods, 183-184 Stellar rays, 164, 169-170 Stoicism, 168 Sukuyǀ-kyǀ (Sutra on Lodges and Luminaries), 30 Sukuyǀdǀ (Way of Lodges and Luminaries), 27-30, 34-37, 41 Tang, 28, 32-34, 38 Tefnut, 102-104, 107 Tenmon (jp., Chinese state astrology, heavenly pattern men), 27-29 Tenmondǀ (jp., Chinese observational astrology), 35-36, 41 Tetrabiblos, 105, 117, 166 Theomachy, 252, 277

Astrology in Time and Place Tianguan shu (Treatise on the Celestial (Heavenly) Offices), 4, 6, 24, 38 Tianwen (ch., Chinese state astrology), 14, 20, 27-28, 38-40, 47-48, see Astrology Time Astrological, 289 Events (real time/physical time), 287 Favourable days, 189, 192, 196199, 201, 204-212, 216 Reified, 196, 216 Temporality (human time), 287 Time-cycles, 291 Uranography(ies), 96, 100, 105 Valens, Vettius, 118, 121 VarƗhamihira, 56, 60 Veda, 57, 59, 62-63, 66

309

Vedic, 69, 89 Vi‫۬܈‬udharmottara purƗ۬a, 56, 61 Vi‫۬܈‬usm‫܀‬ti, 56 Warrwain, Francis, 131, 155-157 Xiu (ch., astral lodges), 29, 32, 37 YajamƗna, 64, 77-82, 90 YƗjñavalkya sm‫܀‬ti, 55-56, 64 Yamau, 95 YavanajƗtaka (The Horoscopy of the Greeks), 58-59, 62, 105-108, 111 Yi Xing, 24 Yisi zhan (Yisi Prognostications), 16 Zodiac, 95-98, 101, 103-108, 283, 291, 294, 301-302 Arabic, 281, 292, 299 Zoroastrianism, 23-24 Zuozhuan (Tradition of Zuo), 10-11