Raising Hell (26 page)
At the wrist itself there are several lines, which are called the bracelets. These lines can be consulted to predict your life span—each one, according to some chiromancers, is worth thirty years of life. Most people have two or three. When there are three lines, all of them well formed and uninterrupted, this is called the Royal Bracelet, and it’s a strong vote of confidence in your future.
To the practiced eye, there is also a plethora of crosses and triangles and dots, squares and circles and stars, which are formed by the crisscrossing of the lines and creases in the hand; where these show up, and how strongly, contributes a lot of additional information. Stars, in general, are signs of good fortune, and if one appears, for instance, on or near the Mount of Venus, then it suggests good luck in love; if it appears in the proximity of Saturn, it’s an indication of scholarly achievement. A triangle signifies skill; a square suggests moderation and the careful protection of resources; the so-called Mystic Cross, a sign that can show up in the middle of the palm between the Head and Heart Lines, reveals a proclivity to metaphysics and mystical pursuits and, in some cases, an overly superstitious turn of mind.
READING THE STARS
The ancient Babylonians had two methods of divining the future. One was to extract and dissect the liver of a sacrificial animal; the other was to consult the movements of the celestial bodies.
All things considered, it’s not hard to see why liver divination has pretty much gone out of style, while astrology has remained the most popular occult science of them all. Who wouldn’t rather look up at the stars?
Which is, undoubtedly, how astrology truly got started. Primitive man studied the heavens, saw their ever-changing aspect, and began to wonder how the movements of these stars and planets, the course of the sun, the waxing and waning of the moon, might affect his own fortunes. There had to be some divine plan at play up there, some orderly progression, and if he could only fathom its secrets, he might be able to see how the celestial arrangements applied to life down below.
And even plan accordingly.
Legend has it that Adam himself was the first astrologer, that God had revealed to him how to read the heavens; it was because he was armed with this knowledge that Adam was able to foresee the destruction of the earth, first by fire and then by water. As a service to his descendants, he had two pillars erected, one of stone and one of brick, and on them he wrote a warning of what was to come. The brick pillar was washed away by the torrent of the flood, but the stone pillar, according to Josephus, a Jewish historian of the first century
A.D.,
was still standing at that time in Syria.
The great Jewish philosopher Maimonides, lending his own imprimatur to the heavenly science, conjectured that “for as much as God hath created these stars and spheres to govern the world, and hath set them on high and hath imparted honor unto them, and they are ministers that minister before him, it is mete that men should laud and glorify and give them honor.”
Still, the credit for the invention of astrology, as a systematized body of knowledge, must go to the Babylonian priests, who, as much as five thousand years go, had begun to build correlations between the celestial bodies and the gods of their pantheon—the planet Venus with Ishtar, for instance, and Jupiter with Marduk, Mars with Nergal, Saturn with Ninib, Mercury with Nebo, the moon with Sin, the sun with Shamash. Over time, the priests also embraced the fixed and most recognizable stars, and such variable phenomena as eclipses, shooting stars, and the halo that is frequently seen around the new moon. Recording all this and interpreting it, they gradually assembled an enormous “database,” as it were, which they used in making their prognostications.
But they were still a far cry from producing what we know today as the individual daily horoscope. For the Babylonians, the heavens produced information pertaining to the general welfare of the state, to great public and political issues of the day. The only individual whose fortunes the astrological phenomena could directly predict was the king, and that was because his well-being was considered inextricably bound to that of his kingdom. If the heavenly bodies were aligned against the king in some way, then the gods might be planning to wallop the kingdom with a plague or a drought or a war. In that regard, at least, astrology did indeed affect even the lowliest farmer in his field.
Around the middle of the fourth century
B.C.,
the Babylonian science began its drift westward, toward Greece and Rome and Egypt, where it took a powerful hold and was mixed quite freely with the other young science of astronomy; the Greek astronomer Hipparchus, for instance, discovered the precession of the equinoxes around 130
B.C.,
but this—a purely scientific discovery—in no way dissuaded the Greeks from continuing to believe that the heavens held the secrets of an individual’s fate. This “judicial astrology,” the belief in personalized horoscopes and such, happily coexisted with “natural astrology,” which limited itself to the more scientific and empirically based science of the celestial bodies.
Over time, astrology not only entwined itself with astronomy but also subsumed various aspects of chemistry, botany,
zoology, mineralogy, and medicine. Everything from gemstones to flowers, plants to animals, was brought into connection with astrological lore. The sun, for example, was associated with gold, the moon with silver, Saturn with lead, Venus with copper. The human body, too, was staked out into various principalities, each one under the influence of a particular planet. The genital organs and belly, not suprisingly, were considered the province of Venus, the planet named after the goddess of love. Blood and bile were under the tutelage of Mars, the red planet assigned to the god of war. Jupiter, king of the gods, ruled the head and brain. With each portion of the human anatomy connected to a star or planet, astrology became a powerful adjunct of medicine; doctors attributed organic diseases to planetary movements or the changing of the constellations and made such considerations a vital part of their treatment.
There were even textbooks the doctors could consult, offering tips on the proper astrologically prescribed medicines to administer.
The Sickman’s Glass,
a well-regarded sixteenth-century text, provided a thorough list of “Herbs which cure the usual infirmities and diseases inherent to man, being discovered by the Sun and Moon afflicted in any of the twelve signs or a figure of twelve houses.” For coughs or colds, for instance, it advised “angelica, coltsfoot, horehound, comfrey, elecampane, liquorice, rue, thyme, valerian.” For fevers, “marigold, roses, hyssop, dandelion, purslain.” And for illnesses of the heart and fainting, the book suggested ingesting a number of herbs and spices, in addition to “the hearts of all creatures which are good to eat.”
Indeed, a person’s future health and fortune in life were considered to be so predetermined by his horoscope and “nativity” (the map of the heavens at the precise moment of his birth) that it became common for great men and women to conceal that exact information until they were sure the astrologer they were consulting would make whatever adjustments were necessary to predict nothing but glory and success. The Roman emperors Tiberius and Caligula ordered senators who had a bad or threatening horoscope to be executed. Jerome Cardan, the Italian astrologer, had such a loathing of Martin Luther
that he altered the date of the religious reformer’s birth just to give him an unfavorable horoscope. And the birth of the French king Louis XIV was actually delayed until the court physician and astrologer, Morin de Villefranche, could determine that the moment was propitious in the heavenly sense. The doctors and nurses attending the queen waited for almost an hour until Morin signaled them, by waving a cloth from his observatory, that they should go ahead and deliver the future ruler. His mother was, no doubt, much relieved.
THE LITTLE ANIMAL IN THE SKY
Even the most skeptical and down-to-earth people, who would never think twice about walking under a ladder or boarding a plane on Friday the thirteenth, have a discreet and abiding interest in the occult, and the proof of that is the widespread interest, even today, in horoscopes and individual birth signs. Everyone knows what his or her sign is, and few of us pass by the horoscope column in a newspaper or magazine without at least glancing at what the stars have predicted for us. Anything—even if it’s only astrology—that purports to tell us something about ourselves exerts an undeniable pull.
The horoscope, which is seldom drawn up today with the seriousness it was once accorded, denotes both a celestial diagram and the personal forecast that is fashioned from it. At the precise moment of your birth, in the view of astrologers, the heavens have already dictated much of your fate. The relative positions of the planets and stars, plus any unusual circumstances that may have obtained (were there sunspots? a veil over the moon?), have created a kind of map of your future, which only the skilled astrologer, armed with his almanacs and guides, can interpret. Included in all this data, and comprising the best-known part, is the sign of the zodiac under which you were born.
The origins of the zodiac go back as much as four thousand years, and the twelve signs we know today are a kind of amalgam, which emerged over time from different cultures and mythologies.
But it was the ancient Greeks who gave us the word “zodiac"—which means “the little animal"—and it was they who systematized the astrological lore in the form we use it now. They were also responsible for populating the sky with the constellations drawn from their own mythology, such as Perseus, Andromeda, and Orion.
The twelve signs of the zodiac are essentially geometric divisions, each one thirty degrees in extent; they’re counted from the spring equinox and proceed in the direction that the sun moves through them. In other words, the sequence of the signs starts with Aries on March 21, which is the day when the sun crosses the equator toward the north, and then, some thirty days later, goes on to Taurus and so forth. Over the millennia, the signs have accumulated a whole range of associations and supposed effects, and their influence has been thought to bear on everything from medical diagnoses to the fortunes of war. People born under each sign are thought to have an essentially uniform nature (subject to some degrees of difference, based on other astrological phenomena). In brief, the traits and talents associated with each of the twelve signs of the zodiac are these:
Those born under Aries, the sign of the Ram (March 21–April 20), are considered to be as headstrong as that animal—they’re full of vim and vigor, enthusiasm and imagination. But at the same time, if they feel crossed or underappreciated, they can react with unseemly rage. Good occupational choices for people born under this sign are acting, architecture, freelance writing—anything where they can pretty much dictate the direction of their own careers. Arians are fairly high-strung, and can suffer from various aches and pains, like headache, neuralgia, and arthritis. In terms of physique, they are by and large lean and hard, with broad heads and pointed chins.
It was under Taurus, the Bull, the next sign of the zodiac (April 21–May 20), that the human race was supposed to have begun. The sun at one time was imagined as a bull, plowing a furrow through the starry skies. And those born under this sign were thought to have a bullish physique, short and strong, with
heavy jaws and big, dark eyes. On the bright side, they were capable of great feats of engineering, able to see projects through to completion with stubborn determination; on the dark side, if for instance they found themselves out of a job, they could quickly descend into laziness and overeating. Taureans make great singers, great cooks, and very trustworthy friends.
Gemini, or the Twins (May 21–June 20), was the sign that presided over the building of the first city and was sometimes symbolized by the fratricidal brothers of Roman legend, Romulus and Remus. Gemini aren’t considered the hardiest physical specimens; put them under a little stress, and they can quickly succumb to anything from a head cold to pneumonia. They’re tall, thin, and prone to sudden movements. But they’re intellectually gifted, very curious about everything going on around them, and make excellent after-dinner speakers—they really know how to put a story across. On the downside, they can be fickle, rash, and superficial; if they have to tell a lie to get what they want, that’s not a big problem.
Cancer, the Crab (June 21–July 21), was the sign of the summer solstice. Those born under its sign were considered something of a puzzle—a little aloof on the outside but quite emotional, even romantic, at their core. They’re also mightily devoted to family and home, especially when that home is comfortably appointed; Cancerians have a taste for the finer things in life—gleaming antiques, rare objets d’art—and as a result they often make good interior decorators and art dealers. Physically, they’re a little on the short side, with a fleshy body and an uneven gait. Because they often internalize their feelings, they find themselves prone to stomach trouble, ulcers, and such.
Those born under Leo, the Lion (July 22–August 21), are about as difficult to read as a billboard—they are loud, proud, and demonstrative. They like to take center stage, and they like to run the show. They’re friendly, outgoing, and occasionally obstinate; after everybody else has agreed that the world is round, the Leo might still be arguing the earth is flat. They can also be a bit of a braggart and a show-off, though they generally
have achievements to back up the boasts. They make good leaders but lousy followers, good white-collar types but incompetent laborers; if it requires a hammer, the Leo is hopeless. Taller than average, with a tendency to put on weight later in life, they often suffer from heart problems and back trouble.
Virgo, the Virgin (August 22–September 21), rules over those with more technically oriented dispositions—Virgoans are terrific when it comes to things like analytical chemistry (and are drawn, sometimes more than they should be, to assorted pharmaceuticals). They’re conscientious, methodical, and unlike Leos, if they’re given a tool, they know just how to use it—especially if it happens to be a rake or hedge clipper. Virgoans like to garden and find themselves at ease in a rural setting. What they lack is self-confidence—they listen to all points of view, but sometimes this creates critical overload, and they no longer know how to make a decision. Of above-average stature and well-filled-out body, they have to keep a close eye on what they eat, as they are prone to gastric disturbances and bowel problems.