CHAPTER XXIX

LATIN ASTROLOGY AND DIVINATION: ESPECIALLY IN THE NINTH, TENTH, AND ELEVENTH CENTURIES Astrology in Gaul before the twelfth century—Figures of astrological medicine—The divine quaternities of Raoul Glaber—Celestial portents and other marvels—An eleventh century calendar—Astrology and divination in ecclesiastical _compoti_—Notker on the mystic date of Easter—Prediction from the Kalends of January—Other divination by the day of the week—Divination by the day of the moon—Authorship of moon-books—Spheres of life and death: in Greek—Medieval Latin versions—Survival of such methods in medical practice of about 1400—Egyptian days—Their history—Medieval attempts to explain them—Other perilous days—Firmicus read by an archbishop of York—Relation of Latin astrology to Arabic—Appendix I. Some manuscripts of the Sphere of Pythagoras or Apuleius—Appendix II. Egyptian days in early medieval manuscripts. [Sidenote: Astrology in Gaul before the twelfth century.] Astrology had continued to flourish in Gaul in the last declining days of the Roman Empire, despite the strictures of Christian writers and clergy,[2717] and it was one of the first subjects to revive after the darkness of the Merovingian period. Two centuries ago Goujet in a treatise on the state of the sciences in France from the death of Charlemagne to that of King Robert noted that from the reign of Charlemagne astronomy continued to be increasingly studied. “The councils in their decrees, the bishops in their statutes, the kings in their capitularies, expressly recommended the study of it to the clergy.”[2718] With the study of astronomy naturally developed a belief in astrology. According to the _Histoire Littéraire de la France_ it became quite the fashion during the reign of Louis the Pious, Charlemagne’s successor, when we are told that there was no great lord but had his own astrologer. Adalmus, before he became abbot of Castres, wasted much time upon this pseudo-science, and Rabanus Maurus showed tendencies in that direction. In the tenth century such celestial phenomena as comets and eclipses were feared as sinister portents, and men resorted to enchantments, auguries, and other forms of divination.[2719] A brief treatise in a manuscript of the ninth century in the Vatican library also develops the thesis that comets signify disasters.[2720] In the eleventh century Engelbert, a monk of Liège, and Odo, teacher at Tournai, were devoted to the study of the stars; and Gilbert Maminot, bishop of Lisieux, and for a time chaplain and physician to William the Conqueror, would rather spend his nights in star-gazing than in sleep. “But what was the outcome of all this toil and study?” inquires the _Histoire Littéraire_ and replies to its own question, “The making of some wretched astrologers and not a single true astronomer!”[2721] [Sidenote: Figures of astrological medicine.] These words were written nearly two hundred years ago, but such a recent investigation of manuscripts in French libraries as that of Wickersheimer on figures illustrative of astrological medicine from the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries has on the whole confirmed the importance of astrology in the meager learning of that time.[2722] The manuscripts in English libraries, I have found, tell a similar story. Of the human figures marked with the twelve signs of the zodiac, which become so common in the manuscripts by the fourteenth century, and in which the head rests upon the Ram, the feet on Pisces, while the intervening members of the body are marked by their respective signs,—of these Wickersheimer found none before the twelfth century. But in a medical manuscript of the eleventh century the twelve signs with their names and the names of the parts of the human body to which they apply are grouped about a half figure of Christ, who has His right hand raised to bless, while about His head is a halo or sun-disk with twelve rays.[2723] Less favorable to astrology is the accompanying legend, “According to the ravings of the philosophers the twelve signs are thus denoted.” On the page following the text describes the twelve signs “according to the Gentiles.” Schemes in which the world, the year, and man were associated, and where are shown the four elements, four seasons, four humors, four temperaments, four ages, four cardinal points, and four winds, are frequently found in extant manuscripts of the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries.[2724] [Sidenote: The divine quaternities of Raoul Glaber.] Such association reminds one of the opening of the chronicle of Raoul Glaber, written in the eleventh century, “Since we are to treat of events in the four quarters of the earth, it will be well to touch first upon the power of divine and abstract quaternity.” There are four elements, he gives us to understand, four virtues and four senses. There are four Gospels and they have their relation to the four elements. Matthew, dealing with Christ’s incarnation, corresponds to earth; Mark to water, since it emphasizes baptism; Luke to air, because it is the longest Gospel; and John to fire or ether as the most spiritual. In like manner can be associated with the four cardinal virtues those four famous rivers which had their sources in Paradise: Phison and prudence, Geon and temperance, the Tigris and fortitude, the Euphrates and justice. Finally the ages of the world are found to be four by Raoul, instead of the six eras corresponding to the days of creation which we find in Isidore, Bede, and other medieval historians; and these four ages also relate to the four virtues. The days of Abel, Enoch, and Noah were days of prudence; but on leaving Noah we have temperance marking the age of Abraham and the patriarchs; fortitude is the feature of the time of Moses and the prophets; while justice characterizes the period since the incarnation of the Word. [Sidenote: Celestial portents and other marvels.] The faith of Raoul and his contemporaries in the mystic significance of numbers, if not also in astrology, and the fact that they were constantly on the lookout for portents and prodigies, are further attested by the stress laid in his chronicle upon the thousandth anniversaries of Christ’s birth and of His passion. Says Raoul, “After the multiplicity of prodigies which, although some came a little before and some a trifle afterwards, happened in the world around the thousandth year of Christ the Lord, there were many industrious men of sagacious mind who prophesied that there would be others not inferior to these in the thousandth year of our Lord’s passion.” That they were not mistaken in this premonition he shows later by several chapters, including an account of the eclipse of the sun in that year. Like many another medieval historian, Raoul is careful to note the appearance of comets—in the Bayeux tapestry of the same century one marks the death of Edward the Confessor; Raoul also believes that if a living person is visited by spirits, either good or evil, it is a sign of his approaching death; he holds the usual view that demons may sometimes work marvels by divine permission, and tells of a magician-impostor whom he saw work miracles upon pseudo-relics. But from the superstition of medieval chroniclers we must turn back to astrological manuscripts proper. [Sidenote: An eleventh century calendar.] An eleventh century calendar at Amiens[2725] reveals both a simple form of astrological medicine and a belief in some peculiar significance of the number seven, whether as a sacred or an astrological number. At the head of each month are brief instructions as to what herbs to use during that month, as to bleeding and bathing, and what disease may most easily be cured then.[2726] In the same manuscript one miniature shows someone striking seven bells with a hammer, perhaps as notes in a scale, and another miniature represents a seven-branched candlestick, of which the branches are respectively labeled, “Spirit of piety, Spirit of fortitude, Spirit of intellect, Spirit of wisdom, Spirit of prudence, Spirit of science, Spirit of the fear of God.”[2727] [Sidenote: Astrology and divination in ecclesiastical _Compoti_.] Indeed works of astrology and divination are especially likely to be found in the same manuscripts with ecclesiastical calendars and _computi_. _Computus_ or _compotus_, as one manuscript states, was “the science considering times.”[2728] For example, in a brief _compotus_ of the ninth century[2729] a divining sphere of Pythagoras occurs twice, and we have also a moon book, an account of the Egyptian days, and a method of divination from winds. In a twelfth century manuscript,[2730] sandwiched in between calendars and reckonings of Easter and eclipses and Bede’s work _On the Natures of Things_, are a sphere of divination, an account of Egyptian days, a method of divination from thunder, and a portion of a work on judicial astrology beginning with the eleventh chapter which tells how to determine whether anyone will be poor or rich by inspection of the planet in his nativity.[2731] [Sidenote: Notker on the mystic date of Easter.] The very dating of Easter itself might be the occasion for indulging in mystic speculation of a semi-astrological nature. Thus Notker Labeo, c 950-1022, the well-known monk of St. Gall,[2732] in a treatise to his disciple Erkenhard on four questions of _compotus_,[2733] states that the principal problem, with which all others are connected, is that of the date of Easter. He gives the time as in the first full moon after the vernal equinox, but adds that this is because of a certain mystery. For if there were no mystery connected with the date of Easter, and it merely celebrated like other festivals the memory of an event which once happened, there is no doubt but that it would occur every year without variation upon the twenty-seventh of March, which was the day of the Lord’s resurrection. But as after the vernal equinox the days grow longer than the nights, and as at the full of the moon its splendor is revolved on high, so we should overcome the darkness of sin by the light of piety and faith and turn our minds from earthly to celestial things, if we wish to celebrate Easter worthily. [Sidenote: Prediction from the Kalends of January.] But let us consider in more detail the methods of divination found in such manuscripts. Simplest of all perhaps are predictions as to the character of the ensuing year according to the day of the week upon which the first of January falls. For example, “If the kalends of January shall be on the Lord’s day, the winter will be good and mild and warm, the spring windy, and the summer dry. Good vintage, increasing flocks; honey will be abundant; the old men will die; and peace will be made.”[2734] In some manuscripts these predictions concerning the weather, crops, wars, and king for the ensuing year are called _Supputatio Esdrae_ or signs which God revealed to the prophet Esdras.[2735] In another manuscript[2736] the weather for winter and summer is predicted according to the day of the week upon which Christmas falls and Lent begins. Christmas of course was sometimes regarded as the first day of the new year and in any case it falls on the same day of the week as the following first of January. In a ninth century manuscript[2737] predictions for the ensuing year are made according as there is wind in the night on Christmas eve and the eleven nights following. For instance, “If there is wind in the night on the night of the natal day of our Lord Jesus Christ, in that year kings and pontiffs will perish,” and “If on twelfth night there shall be wind, kings will perish in war.” [Sidenote: Other divination by the day of the week] Divination from thunder is another form of judicial astrology, if it may so be called, found in these early manuscripts. Perhaps the simplest variety of it is according to the day of the week on which thunder is heard.[2738] Predictions were also made according to the month in which thunder was heard,[2739] or the direction from which it was heard.[2740] It may be recalled that the three chapters of Bede’s translation of some work on divination from thunder had been respectively devoted to these three methods by the direction from which the thunder is heard, the month, and the day of the week. Nativities of infants are also given according to the day of the week on which they are born, and further taking into account whether the hour of birth is diurnal or nocturnal.[2741] It is also regarded as important to note upon which day of the week the new moon occurs,[2742] and we are further informed of the various hours of the days of the week when it is advisable to perform blood-letting.[2743] In a method of divination according to the day of the week and the letters in the boy’s or girl’s name the Lord’s day is assigned the number thirteen, the day “of the moon” eighteen, and that “of Mars” fifteen.[2744] Since the days of the week bore the names of the planets, it was not strange that they should have been credited with something of the virtues of the stars. [Sidenote: Divination by the day of the moon.] A commoner method of divination and one more nearly approaching approved astrological doctrine was that by the day of the month or moon. Briefest of such moon-books is that which merely designates each of the thirty days as favorable or unfavorable.[2745] We also find a _Lunarium_ for the sick, stating the patient’s prospects from the day of the moon on which he contracted his illness;[2746] a work ascribed to “Saint Daniel” on nativities by the day of the moon;[2747] and an equally brief interpretation of dreams upon the same basis.[2748] Or all these matters may be considered in the same treatise and each of them somewhat more fully, and we may be told whether the day is a good one on which to buy and sell, to board a ship, to enter a city, to operate upon a patient, to send children off to school, to breed animals, to build an aqueduct or mill, or whether it is best to abstain on it from most business. Also such predictions as that the boy born on that day will be illustrious, astute, wise, and lettered; that he will encounter danger on the water, but will live to old age if he escapes; while the girl born on the same day will be “chaste, benign, good-looking, and pleasing to men.” That anyone who takes to his bed on that day will suffer a long sickness, but that it is a favorable day for blood-letting, and that one should not worry about dreams he has then, since they possess no significance either for good or evil. Also what chance there is of recovering articles stolen on that day.[2749] In later manuscripts at least it is further stated that certain Biblical characters were born on this day or that day of the moon: Adam on the first, Eve on the second, Cain on the third, Abel on the fourth, and so on.[2750] [Sidenote: Authorship of moon-books.] In the early manuscripts moon-books are anonymous or ascribed to Daniel, but in later medieval manuscripts other authors are named. The name of Adam is coupled with that of Daniel in both of two rather elaborate moon-books in a fourteenth century manuscript,[2751] where Adam is said to have worked out these “lunations” “by true experience.” A fifteenth century one is attributed to a philosopher, astrologer, and physician named Edris,[2752] perhaps the Esdras of the method of divination by the kalends of January rather than the Arab Edrisi. It briefly predicts from the relation of the moon to the twelve signs whether patients will recover and captives escape. In a sixteenth century manuscript at Paris are “Significations of the days of the moon which the most excellent astronomer Bezogar revealed to his disciples and transmitted to them as a very great secret and most precious gift.”[2753] But such an ascription is rather obviously a late fiction. [Sidenote: Spheres of life and death: in Greek.] Determining the fate of the patient from the day of the moon upon which his illness was incurred enters also into certain spheres of life and death which were much employed in the early middle ages. But in these the number of the day of the moon is combined with a second number obtained by a numerical evaluation of the letters forming the patient’s name. This method came down from the ancient Greek-speaking world, as in a “Sphere of Democritus, prognostic of life and death” found in a Leyden papyrus,[2754] while the very similar _Sphere of Petosiris_, the mythical Egyptian astrologer, is variously dated by W. Kroll from the second century before Christ, by E. Riess from the first century before Christ, and by F. Boll in the first century of our era.[2755] The so-called “Sphere” is really only a wheel of fortune, circle, or other plane figure divided into compartments where different numbers are grouped under such headings as “Life” and “Death.” Having calculated the value of a person’s name by adding together the Greek numerals represented by its component letters, and having further added in the day of the moon, one divides the sum by some given divisor and looks for the quotient in the compartments. This method of divination was also employed in regard to fugitive slaves and the outcome of gladiatorial combats.[2756] [Sidenote: Medieval Latin versions.] In the medieval Latin versions of these Spheres of life and death the numerical value of the Greek letters was naturally usually lost and arbitrary numerical equivalents were assigned to the Roman letters or some other method of calculation was substituted. The _Sphere of Petosiris_ was perpetuated in the form of a letter by him to Nechepso, king of Egypt.[2757] But more common than this in manuscripts of the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries was the Sphere of life and death of Apuleius or Pythagoras or both[2758] which replaced that of Democritus. Like it, it consisted of the numbers from one to thirty arranged in six compartments, three above a line each containing six numbers, and three below the line having four each. John of Salisbury, in the twelfth century, presumably refers to it when he speaks of divination or lot-casting “by inspection of the so-called Pythagorean table”;[2759] and it continues to be found with great frequency in the manuscripts of subsequent centuries.[2760] It is not to be confused, however, with the _Prenostica Pitagorice_, a more elaborate, although somewhat similar, method of divination by means of geomantic tables, of which we shall treat later in the chapter on Bernard Silvester. A Sphere ascribed to St. Donatus in a twelfth century manuscript includes instructions how to determine the sign of the zodiac under which a person was born by computing the difference between his name and his mother’s name. If this amounts to four letters, he was born under the fourth sign, and so on.[2761] [Sidenote: Survival of such methods in medical practice of about 1400.] The survival of such superstitious methods of divination into the later middle ages is attested not only by the frequent recurrence of the _Sphere of Apuleius_ and the divinations from the kalends of January in manuscripts of the later centuries, but by the medical notebook, written in middle English, of John Crophill, who practiced medicine in Suffolk under Henry IV.[2762] Besides a record of his patients and the sums of money due from them, rules of dieting and blood-letting for the twelve months of the year, and his “more regular and masterly observations upon Urin,” his notes include a treatise on astrological medicine which, in the sarcastic language of the old catalogue of the Harleian Manuscripts, concludes “with a masterpiece of art, namely, a tretys or chapter of ‘Calculation to know what thou wilt,’ and this by observation of persons’ names.” The notebook also contains “Oracular Answers prepared beforehand by this great Doctor for those of both Sexes who shall come to consult him in the momentous affair of Matrimony; according to the several Months of the year wherein they should apply themselves.” Further contents are an incantation in Latin for women in child-birth, and “The names of the 12 signs with such marks as shew that this John Crophill was a dabbler in Geomancy.” [Sidenote: Egyptian days.] Brief lists of “Egyptian Days” are of rather common occurrence in both Latin and Anglo-Saxon manuscripts of the ninth, tenth, and succeeding centuries.[2763] Often it is merely stated what days of the year they are; sometimes it is simply added that the doctor should not bleed the patient upon them. As early as a ninth century manuscript,[2764] however, we are further warned not to take a walk or plant or carry on a lawsuit or do any work upon these days. And under no circumstances, no matter what the seeming necessity, is it permitted to bleed man or beast on these days. Two Egyptian days are then listed for each month, one reckoned as so many days from the beginning and the other as so many days before the close of the month. Eleven days is the farthest removed that any Egyptian day is from the first of the month and twelve the most from the close, so that they never fall in the middle of a month nor on the very first or last day. Our ninth century manuscript then mentions three of these days in April, August, and December as especially dangerous. Whoever falls ill or receives a potion on them is sure to die soon. Whoever, male or female, is born on one of them will die an evil and painful death. “And if one drinks water on those three days, he will die within forty days.” The account then closes with the statement that on the Egyptian days the people of Egypt were cursed with Pharaoh. In another ninth century manuscript a bare list of the Egyptian days is followed by a somewhat similar account of the three which must be observed with especial care.[2765] In a calendar of saints’ days in this same manuscript only the third of March and the third of July are marked _dies egiptiagus_.[2766] Egyptian days are also marked in the calendar of Marianus Scotus, the well-known chronicler and chronologist.[2767] A somewhat different account in a twelfth century manuscript states that “these are the days which God sent without mercy.” It also, however, lists two of them for each month and distinguishes the three in April, August, and December as especially dangerous.[2768] [Sidenote: Their history.] There seems to be no doubt that these Egyptian days were a relic of the unlucky days in the ancient Egyptian calendar,[2769] of which we learn from several papyri, although of course the ancient Egyptians were also accustomed to distinguish further the three divisions of each day as lucky or unlucky. The Egyptian days are noted in official calendars of the Roman Empire about 354 A. D., and in the _Fasti Philocaliani_ there are twenty-five in all, of which three fall in January. In the middle ages, as has already been illustrated, there were usually but twenty-four, two to each month.[2770] They were mentioned in the _Life of Proclus_ by Marinus, and both Ambrose and Augustine testified that many Christians still had faith in them.[2771] Indeed, they passed into the ecclesiastical calendar, as the Franciscan, Bartholomew of England, states in the thirteenth century.[2772] [Sidenote: Medieval attempts to explain them.] By that time the notion had become prevalent that they were anniversaries of the days upon which God afflicted Egypt with plagues, as our citations from the manuscripts have shown. Bartholomew, indeed, is at pains to explain that the days are placed in the church calendar, “not because one should omit anything upon them more than upon other days, but in order that God’s miracles may be recalled to memory.” The circumstance that there are twenty-four days does not embarrass him; he simply explains that this proves that God sent more plagues upon Egypt than the ten which are especially famed. Our citations from earlier manuscripts have shown that most people would not agree with Bartholomew that nothing should be omitted on these days. Moreover, other explanations of their origin had been already given in the middle ages than that from the plagues of Egypt. Honorius of Autun stated in the twelfth century that they were called Egyptian days because they had been discovered by the Egyptians, and since Egypt means dark,[2773] they are called _tenebrosi_, because they are declared to bring the incautious to the shadows of death.[2774] The Dominican, Vincent of Beauvais,[2775] who probably wrote his encyclopedia soon after that of Bartholomew, did not find the discrepancy between ten plagues and twenty-four days so easy to explain away. He states that of the two Egyptian days in each month one comes near the beginning and the other near the close, as we have already learned. He adds that some call them lucky days, while others say that the astrologers of Egypt discovered that they were unlucky. Yet another explanation of their origin is that on these days the Egyptians were accustomed to sacrifice to demons with their own blood, a circumstance which would not seem to recommend them for inclusion in the ecclesiastical calendar. Bernard Gordon, a medical writer at the end of the thirteenth century, reverts to the position that the Egyptian days were in memory of the plagues in Egypt. He declares that there is no sense in the prohibition of blood-letting upon these days, since they have no astrological significance, but are the anniversaries of miracles worked by special providence.[2776] Gilbert of England, earlier in the thirteenth century, had advised against bleeding on Egyptian days, if the moon was then influenced by any evil planet.[2777] [Sidenote: Other perilous days.] On the other hand, not only did the twenty-four Egyptian days and the three in April, August, and December which were considered especially dangerous, continue to be listed in the fourteenth and fifteenth century manuscripts, but imitations of them appeared. Thus in a fourteenth century manuscript we read of forty perilous days which should be observed with the utmost care and which Greek masters have tested by experience;[2778] while in a second manuscript of the closing medieval period appear fifty-eight dangerous days “according to the Arabs.”[2779] Of the Greek days only twenty-nine are actually listed, seven in January, three in February, and so on, omitting the months of July and August entirely, which perhaps should contain the missing eleven days.[2780] The Arabic days vary in number per month from seven in March, which is the first month listed, to three in February. “And there are four other days and nights according to Bede on which no one is ever born or conceived, and if by chance a male is conceived or born, its body will never be freed from putridity.”[2781] [Sidenote: Firmicus read by an archbishop of York.] That astrological knowledge in England, at least soon after the Norman conquest, was not limited to such meager and simple treatises as the moon-books described above from Anglo-Saxon manuscripts, is seen from the closing incident in the career of Gerard, a learned and eloquent man, bishop of Hereford under William Rufus and archbishop of York under Henry I, whom he supported in the investiture struggle with Anselm and the pope. The story goes that Gerard, who had been feeling slightly indisposed, lay down to rest and enjoy the fresh air and fragrance of the flowers in a garden near his palace, asking his chaplains to leave him for a while. On their return after dinner they found him dead, and beneath the cushion upon which his head rested was a copy of the astrological work of Julius Firmicus Maternus. Gerard had not been popular with the inhabitants of York, and when his corpse was brought back to town, boys stoned the bier and the canons refused it burial within the cathedral, which, however, his successor granted. “His enemies,” we are told, “interpreted his death, without the rites of the church, as a divine judgment for his addiction to magical and forbidden arts.” At any rate the story shows that the work of Firmicus was well known by this time; it is from the eleventh century that the oldest manuscripts of it date; and we suspect that some of his enemies were rather hypocritical in the horror which they expressed at a bishop’s reading such a book. “Too independent a thinker for his contemporaries,” writes Miss Bateson, “his opponents held up their hands in horror that an astrological work by Julius Firmicus Maternus should be found under his pillow when he died.”[2782] The style of Firmicus is much imitated by the anonymous author of _The Laws of Henry I_ and another legal work entitled _Quadripartitus_ written in 1114. F. Liebermann states that the author was in the service of archbishop Gerard aforesaid.[2783] [Sidenote: Relation of Latin astrology to Arabic.] Charles Jourdain once made the generalization that before the translation of the _Quadripartite_ of Ptolemy and the works of the Arabian astrologers into Latin in the twelfth century, astrology had little hold among men of learning in western Europe.[2784] An even more erroneous assertion was that in Burckhardt’s _Die Kultur der Renaissance in Italien_ that “at the beginning of the thirteenth century” the superstition of astrology “suddenly appeared in the foreground of Italian life.”[2785] Even Jourdain’s assertion the entire present chapter tends to disprove, but since it has been quoted with approval by a subsequent writer on the thirteenth century,[2786] we may deal with it a little farther. The reason which Jourdain added in support of his generalization was that before the translations from the Arabic “those who cultivated astrology had no other guides than Censorinus, Manilius, and Julius Firmicus, who might indeed seduce a few isolated dreamers but did not have enough weight to convince philosophers. Ptolemy and the Arabs, on the contrary, appeared as masters of a regular science having its own principles and method.” This sounds as if Jourdain had not read Firmicus who gives a more elaborate presentation of the art of astrology than the elementary _Quadripartite_ of Ptolemy. It is true that Ptolemy had a great scientific reputation from his other writings, but Manilius is a poet of no small merit, and there would be no reason why an age which accepted Ovid and Vergil as authorities concerning nature and regarded such works as _De vetula_ and the _Secret of Secrets_ as genuine works of Ovid and Aristotle, should draw delicate distinctions between Firmicus and Albumasar or Manilius and Alkindi. It was because reading Firmicus and even practicing the cruder modes of divination which we have described had already aroused an interest in astrology that other works in the field were sought out and translated. Moreover, there is an even more cogent objection to Jourdain’s generalization which will be developed in the following chapter, and it is that the taking over of Arabic astrology had already begun long before the twelfth century. We have, indeed, in the present chapter told only half the story of astrology in the tenth and eleventh centuries, and must now turn back to Gerbert and the introduction of Arabic astrology. APPENDIX I SOME MANUSCRIPTS OF THE SPHERE OF PYTHAGORAS OR APULEIUS Besides the copies noted by Wickersheimer (1913) in French manuscripts from the ninth to the eleventh centuries, such as Laon 407, Orléans 276, and BN nouv. acq. 1616, where in fact it occurs twice: at fol. 7v, “Ratio spere phytagor philosophi quem epulegus descripsit,” and at fol. 14r, “Ratio pitagere de infirmis,”—the following may be listed. BN 5239, 10th century, # 12. Harleian 3017, 10th century, fol. 58r, “Ratio spherae Pythagorae philosophi quam Apuleius descripsit.” Cotton Tiberius C, VI, 11th century, fol. 6v, Imagines vitae et mortis quarum utraque rotulum tenet longum literis et numeris quae ad sphaeram Apuleii ad latera adscriptis, cum versibus pagina circumscriptis. The figures are of _Vita_ with halo, robes, and angelic face, and of _Mors_, who wears only a pair of drawers, whose ribs show through his flesh, and who has wings like a demon. One has to turn the page upside down in order to read some of it. CU Trinity 1369, 11th century, fol. 1r, just before the Calendar of Marianus Scotus, “Racio spere pytagorice quam apuleius descripsit.” Chartres 113, 9th century, fol. 99, following works by Alcuin, “Spera Apuleii Platonis.” Ivrea 19, 10th century, # 5, De spera Putagorae. CLM 22307, 10-11th century, fol. 194, Ratio sphaerae Phitagoreae philosophi quam Apulegius descripsit, “Petosiris philosophus Micipso regi salutem ...”, where it would seem to be confused with the letter of Petosiris to Nechepso. Vatican Palat. Lat. 176, 10th century, fol. 162v, “Eulogii ratio sperae Pitagorae philosophi,” in a MS containing works of Jerome, Augustine, and Ambrose. Vatican Urb. Lat. 290, 11-13th century, fol. 2v, Ratio spere Pitagoras quam Apuleius descripsit; fol. 3, Petosiris Micipso regi salutem. I suspect that the following would also prove upon examination to be one of these Spheres of life and death. CLM 18629, 10th century, fol. 95, Characteres literarum secretarum, item incantationes. Alphabetum Graecorum et numeri per tabulam dispositi; fol. 106, Tractatus de literis alphabeti (mysticus). Vatican Palat. Lat. 485, 9th century, fol. 14, Litterae graecae cum interpretatione alphabetica et numerica. Vatican 644, 10-11th century, fol. 16v. Of the numerous occurrences of the _Sphere of Pythagoras_ or of Apuleius in MSS later than the eleventh century I have noted only a few examples. Vienna 2532, 12th century, fols. 1-2, Tractatus astrologicus de divinando exitu morborum e positionibus lune et de sphere Pythagore. Vatican 642, 12th century, fol. 82, a somewhat different mode of divination, by which one tells what another is thinking or is holding in his hand, is attributed to Bede. Madrid 10016, early 13th century, fol. 3, “spera de morte vel vita”; fol. 85v, the letter of Petosiris to Nechepso. It is interesting to note that this MS originally belonged to an English Cluniac monastery: Haskins, EHR (1915), p. 65. BN 7486, 14th century, fol. 66v, “Canon supra rotam Pictagore,” opens, “Pictagoras is said to have written thus to Nasurius, king of the Chaldees;” then at fol. 67r comes “The Sphere of Pictagoras the philosopher which Epuleus Platonicus briefly described;” which is followed at fol. 68r by a long treatise ascribed to Ptolemy, _Exortatio ad artem prescientie ptholomei regis egypti_, in which various questions are answered by numerical and alphabetical calculations and one is also by the same method referred to nativities arranged under the 28 mansions of the moon. CU Trinity 1109, 14th century, fol. 15, Spera apulei et platonici; fol. 20, “Ratio spere pictagis philosophe quod apollonius scripsit;” fol. 392, S(p)era Fortune. Digby, 58, 14th century, fol. 1v, “Spera philosophorum.” Bodleian 26 (Bernard 1871), 13-14th century, fols. 207 and 216v. Bodleian 177 (Bernard 2072), late 14th century, # 1, Pythagorae sphaera quam Apuleius exaravit ut scias an aeger convalescat; # 14, fol. 22r, Apuleii Platonici Sphaera de vita et morte et de omnibus negotiis quae inquirere volueris. Amplon. Quarto 380, 14th century, at the close of a Geomancy by Abdallah, “Spera Apuley de vita et morte vel de omnibus negociis de quibus scire volueris; sic facias....” Additional 15236, 13-14th century, fol. 108, “Spera (Pictagore) de vita et morte sive de re alia quacunque secundum Apuleium.” Harleian 5311, 15th century, folder i, “Spera Apullei.” S. Marco XI, 111, 16th century, ascribes a wheel of life and death to “Bede the presbyter,” and another to Apollonius and Pythagoras. APPENDIX II EGYPTIAN DAYS IN EARLY MEDIEVAL MANUSCRIPTS The following citations could probably be greatly multiplied. BN nouv. acq. 1616, 9th century, fol. 12r. Digby 63, end of 9th century, Anglo-Saxon minuscule, fol. 36, “Dies Egiptiachi.” Berlin 131 (Phillips 1869, Trier), 9th century, fol. 12r. Lucca 236, about 900 A. D., on its last 3 leaves are Egyptian days and a dream-book; described by Giacosa (1901), p. 349. Harleian 3017, 10th century, fol. 59r, De diebus Egiptiacis qui mali sunt in anno circulo. The catalogue dates this MS as 920 A. D. but at fol. 66r the date is given as DCCClxii or DCCCClxii (962 A. D.)—a letter seems to have been erased which probably was the fourth C. Harleian 3271, 10th century (?), fol. 121, Versus ad dies Egyptiacas inveniendas. See also Baehrens, _Poet. lat. min._ V, 354-6; Mommsen CIL I, 411. Sloane 475, this portion of the MS 10-11th century, fol. 216v, Versus de significatione dierum mensis, opening, “Tenebrae Aegyptus Grecos sermone vocantur....” Additional 22398, 10th century, fol. 104. Cotton Caligula A, XV, written mostly in Gaul before 1000 A. D., fol. 126, a list of lucky and unlucky days for medical purposes, in Anglo-Saxon. Cotton Titus D, XXVI, 10th century, fol. 3v. Cotton Vitellius A, XII, fol. 39v. Cotton Vitellius C, VIII, in Anglo-Saxon, fol. 23, de tribus anni diebus Aegyptiacis. CU Trinity 945, early 11th century, fol. 37. CU Trinity 1369, 11th century (perhaps 1086 A. D.), fol. 1v. Vatican 644, 10-11th century, fol. 77r, versus duodecim de diebus aegyptiis, and a fragment “de tribus diebus aegyptiis.” Dijon 448, 10-12th century, fol. 88, Calendrier, avec jours égyptiaques ajoutés; fol. 191, “De Egyptiacis diebus.” Bede’s _De temporibus_ and _De natura rerum_ occur twice in this MS and at fol. 181 is an incantation for use in fevers. Harleian 1585 and Sloane 1975, where the Egyptian days are found with the _Herbarium_ of Apuleius, are both 12th century but probably copied from earlier MSS. So in Chalons-sur-Marne 7, 13th century, fol. 41, verses on the Egyptian days occur with the _Ars calculatoria_ of Helpericus of Auxerre who wrote in the ninth century. I have usually not noted the occurrence of the Egyptian days in later manuscripts. A few exceptions are: BN 7299A, 12th century, fol. 37r. CLM 23390, 12-13th century, the last item is, “Verses concerning the twelve signs and the Egyptian days.” The previous contents were mainly religious. Cambrai 195, fol. 208; 229, fol. 56; 829, fol. 54; all three MSS of the 12th century. Cambrai 861, early 13th century, fol. 56. Sloane 2461, end of 13th century, fols. 62r-64v. The verses concerning the ten plagues of Egypt contained in CLM 18629, 10th century, fol. 93, and ascribed by the catalogue to Eugenius Toletanus have, I presume, no connection with the Egyptian days. Such proved to be the case with BN 16216, 13th century, fol. 251v, de decem plagis Egyptiorum et de vii diebus, although from the fact that it follows “Precepta Pithagore” I suspected before examining it that it might have something to do with divination. But not even the Pythagorean precepts have in this case.