INTRODUCTION

The type of astrology that involves human affairs en masse is termed mundane. Its area of concern embraces kingdoms and nation-states together with their rulers. It is to be distinguished from the more familiar modern practice, that of natal astrology. This, proceeding from the basis of a birth chart—a symbolic representation of a particular individual—seeks a greater understanding of an individual’s life, talents, and psychological dynamics. Mundane astrology, on the other hand, seeks a greater understanding of the dynamics of the mass of individuals who are gathered together in the “body politic.”

The earliest astrology known was discovered inscribed upon the ancient clay tablets excavated in Mesopotamia over the last century and a half. So far as the extant texts allow us to form any judgment, this astrology from the past appears to be exclusively mundane in its orientation. Indeed, the individual birth chart does not appear in the historical record until some twelve hundred years later than the first known codified mundane astrological text—this latter dating from the period of the Babylonian king Ammisaduqa, who reigned during the first half of the second millennium BCE.

The initial object of this book is twofold: first, to explore the state of astrology in the Babylonian and Assyrian empires and, second, to investigate the extent to which, if at all, modern astrological practice has inherited those ancient interpretations and techniques.

However, during the course of these inquiries a third line of exploration will emerge that concerns a particular important religious and magical aspect of early Babylonian cosmological speculation. This aspect survived the triple onslaught of Aristotelian philosophy, Christianity, and Islam to cross over to the West, where it played a significant role in the greatest European cultural change over the last millennium: the Renaissance. It will be argued that the residues of Babylonian magic helped to midwife the birth of the artistic explosion that marked this extraordinary period.

Astrological symbolism depends upon mythology; this book then will explore the complicated realms of Mesopotamian mythology—a mythology, incidentally, almost devoid of consistency, unlike that of Greece or Rome. Because this ancient Mesopotamian mythology was in a continuous state of change—for the mythology served the state and thus changed as the state changed—no easy delineation of the pantheon can be devised. However, despite the impossibility of definitive answers, this investigation cannot be circumvented, for the mythology of such a nation is entwined with its magic and astrology; all are reflections of the nation’s psychological reality.

Astrology is to be taken seriously. It is important to any exploration of the inhabitants of history. Despite the self-evidence of this statement, few historians have been prepared to take the study into account, both for its own sake and for the insight it reveals into the intellectual traditions of the past. One of the few who have taken the time to investigate the area, the late Professor Leo Oppenheim of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, repeatedly stressed the importance of astrology in understanding the Mesopotamian cultures of the past.

Yet, regardless of his insight, many scholars still seem content to dismiss astrology as “superstition” or “creative idiocy,” thus consciously or unconsciously depriving this aspect of history of the professional attention needed to reveal its contents. Typical of the hostile attitude so often adopted is that of the archaeologist Georges Roux, in all other respects sensitive to the flavor of the ancient Middle East. He seems almost personally outraged at the ancient priests when he writes “while the most objectionable end-product of the Mesopotamian belief in destiny, astrology, permeated and corrupted the religions of the West.”1

Commonly, historians, while fully prepared to range widely over most aspects of ancient life, however bizarre they might seem to us today, quite clearly retain a marked personal disdain for astrology. A good example is evinced in an otherwise excellent work on ancient Babylon by Professor H. W. F. Saggs. His book is comprehensive: it fills some 504 pages of text, yet only three pages describe Babylonian astrology—and this in the face of the assertion by a fellow historian and author of a book on ancient Babylon, Joan Oates, that not only was divination one of the most basic features of Babylonian life, but the omen texts form the greatest number of surviving examples of ancient Mesopotamian literature. Clearly something is wrong.

Part of the reason for Saggs’s attitude is revealed when he allows his prejudice to emerge: he speaks of astrology as “a folly which, to judge by the space devoted to it in certain daily newspapers and women’s magazines, is still far from eradicated from our civilizations.”2 Apart from his assumption that astrology should be eradicated, one wonders about the source of his aversion to women’s magazines.

Such personal hostility on the part of respected scholars working and teaching in the field has placed numerous obstacles in the way of other professionals, who have thus tended to avoid it. This has led to many of the astrological tablets being accorded a low priority and thus never being translated and published. Consequently, any study of the subject must necessarily remain limited because it has available as its source material only a part of what might potentially be provided. Fortunately, recent decades have seen a serious attempt on the part of certain Assyriologists to rectify the situation.

Despite the present limitations, an attempt will be made to understand the field, utilizing tablets that have been translated into English, French, or German by such experts as the late professor Ernst Weidner in Germany, Reginald Campbell-Thompson in England, Emmanuel Laroche in France, Dr. Christopher Walker at the British Museum, Professor Sima Parpola in Finland, and Herman Hunger and Erica Reiner at the University of Chicago Oriental Institute. The latter, who studied under Leo Oppenheim, is continuing the important work of translating the codified astrological series, the Enuma Anu Enlil, a task first begun in the 1930s by the late Ernst Weidner. The most recent work on this series is that of a former student of Erica Reiner, Dr. Francesca Rochberg-Halton, whose doctoral dissertation concerning the Babylonian moon omens from the Enuma Anu Enlil has been published in an augmented form.

A more complete understanding of how astrology developed over the centuries is useful not only to historians but also to those concerned with the wider task of comprehending the growth of ancient Mesopotamian intellectual ability and expression. The last word on this could perhaps go to Professor Parpola, who, in the introduction to his massive translation of astrological and other divinatory reports, writes: “Considering the fact that the roots of modern science are largely to be sought in ancient Mesopotamia, the value of the corpus [of letters from the diviners] for the history of sciences hardly needs stressing.”3

While some of the ancient Mesopotamian inscriptions and ruins had been cursorily examined by European explorers in the eighteenth century, the true time of discovery was the mid to late nineteenth century, when adventurers who combined bravery, obsession, and intellectual skill began to uncover the treasures that lay buried beneath remote sandy hills. These gifted amateurs had no guidelines to operate by, no precedents to help them with their techniques of excavation and preservation. Inevitably they made mistakes and through ignorance destroyed much that would now be of value.

Nevertheless, these amateurs did, through their excitement and their enthusiasm, bring the process of archaeology to the attention of an increasingly intrigued public, who, in turn, grew eager for more discoveries and provided some funding—however meager those funds seemed at the time to those in the field. Indeed, from such courageous obsession, a great era of discovery was born.