Feels like starting over

Hello again.

It finally happened: a huge delay that was not entirely my fault. I’m not to blame for this one.

Substack and Twitter fought, and apparently, I lost.

When I started writing on Substack, I logged in via Twitter. Then, Substack developed the “Notes” feature, and Twitter got jealous — it started to kill the reach of any tweet with “Substack” (both links from the site and the word itself) in it.

Apparently, Substack retaliated by cancelling this login option. But I never had another option and, so far, they were unable (or maybe unwilling) to give me back my account. Beehive was able to import all my newsletters, but not my followers.

So, this is my new newsletter home. I am not going back to Substack, even if they manage to give my account back.

Please, if you like this newsletter, don’t forget to:

One subject that has been fascinating me for the last six months is Chronographies.

The word means “description or record of time, or past events”; it may be a synonym for “history”.

But what I mean by that is a genre of works from Renaissance Spain and Portugal (I didn’t find any from other countries, but I must admit I wasn’t searching very hard; there were later works with the same title, but they seem to be merely historical records) which mixed history, philosophical discussions of time, calculations of the Moveable Holy Feasts, astrological and astronomical basic notions, geography, “rustic astrology” (best ways to sow and harvest; best and worst times for bleeding patients), eclipses, and, sometimes, even the description of nautical/astronomical instruments.

The most famous is the “Chronographia o Reportorio de los Tiempos, el más copioso y preciso que hasta ahora ha salido a luz, compuesto por Hieronimo de Chaves”(Chronography, or Repertory of the Times, the most comprehensive and accurate brought to light until now, composed by Jerónimo de Chaves), published for the first time in 1548. There were at least 40 other editions during his lifetime, and it was reprinted for 10 years after his death, by express authorization of king Phillip II of Spain (Phillip I of Portugal).

Jerónimo de Chávez (several different spelling variations) was a Spanish cosmographer, astronomer, astrologer, historian, and translator. He was once piloto mayor (Chief Pilot) of the Kingdom.

Portugal — especially during this time, when it was ruled by Spanish kings — also produced its Chronographias.

The one from André do Avelar seems like a translation of Chávez’s work.

The one from D. Manoel de Figueiredo (published in 1063) is the one I’m obsessing about, and, although it seems to draw from Chávez, it’s not a mere copy or translation.

After a discussion on the different modes of time, on how to measure common time, and an exposition on the ages of man, on monarchies, and on dynasties, he finishes Part I (“On Time and Its Parts”) with several different lists of people, all of them interesting:

A list of Roman Emperors, beginning with Julius Caesar. During Constantine the Great, he ignores the West; In Constantine VI, he ignores the East, and succeeds him by Charlemagne. Then, the list goes through the Holy Roman Emperors (with some King of the Germans to fill in the gaps) until Rudolph the Second, the emperor of his time.

A list of “relevant people” of all time, starting with Adam, going through the Patriarchs, then Moses, the Judges, the Kings of Israel and Judah, some “kings” from the ancestors of St. Joseph, the Macabees, and then all the Popes until his time.

These lists seem to give an account of the Temporal Power and of the Spiritual Authority (to borrow an expression from René Guénon) throughout history.

Then he presents a list of the ”Kings of Castille” that combines rulers (some of them fictitious, stemming from Tubal, Noah’s grandon ) with the Suebians, the the Visigoths, and the kings of Leon and Castille, until the current Spanish king.

Lastly, a list of the Portugal kings, which ended with Phillip the II of Portugal (the same person as Philip III of Spain).

In Part II (“On Astronomy”), he offers a very didactical explanation of all the basical points of astrology (spheres, circles, and how to measure them; signs, planets, and places associated with signs; the houses; how to determine the planetary hours; and ho to determine the rising of the signs).

In Part III (“On Geography”), he discusses the four elements, and then the seas and the different regions of the (then) known world.

In Part IV (“On Rustic Astrology”), he states the best time to sow and reap; the best (and worst) times to bleed and purge patients; he discusses the weather, the eclipses and what they signify; and finishes with a description of the temperaments.

In Part V, D. Manoel shows how to calculate the moveable feasts of the Church.

Finally, in Part VI, he presents his own, newly invented “balestilha”, an instrument for astronomy and navegation, and shows how to build one.

It’s a very fun read — because of the astrology in it, but not only that. It’s nice to know that such a work was not only published by a high-ranking servant of the King, but that it was approved by the Church.

Also… the reader is blessed with images like this one:

Horary astrology sometimes is the subject of very weird discussions.

One of them is about its scope.

Some people state that we must always check the natal chart, or horary is not valid; some affirm there are things too small, trivial, or insignificant, for it; others say that there are things too big or too important for it; and some people say that horary only answers questions for which the querent — the one who asks — is personally involved.

All of these statements fail to address the real thing: what is a question, and how astrology may answer it.

A question is a genuine request for information. It is born when a person really wants to know something. Because there is a symbolic network uniting everything in the Univers — because it is a Cosmos, not a Chaos — a question has some analogy with that big matrix of symbols God put up there for us, the visible Sky, in the same way there is an analogy between a person born and the sky at the same time.

Moreover, a question can only be really asked to someone that is able to answer it. If you don’t have a watch (or a cellphone) on you, and you tell the person besides you, who also doesn’t have it, “what is the time?”, this is complaining, not a question.

That means a question is really born when it’s made to someone that is able to answer it. In the case of horary questions, an astrologer.

Horary questions have the limitations every question has: it can only work when the question is sincere and the person hearing it understands it; it cannot answer what was not asked, and it cannot answer anything that, although phrased as a question, are not: it cannot give validation or emotional support.

Moreover, it cannot answer things hierarchically above it: no use asking whether astrology works, or whether someone has gone to Heaven.

Apart from that, it might answer almost anything. It cannot be done mechanically, because someone does not sincerely wants to know the same thing (how will the weather be? Will my team win?) at the same time, every day. It cannot give numerical answers (so, lottery numbers are out).

But it damn sure can answer the outcome of an election.

See, people tend to think as elections as a very elusive subject, because politics are complicated. But they’re really not. It’s a count of votes (done in different ways in different countries). Politics is way more than just that.

The thing is, one must be really interested in the outcome, not in whether astrology really works, or in getting a good Instagram post/tweet.

The question on whether the person is personally involved is silly. One may be involved in an election (by being a voter; by being a candidate) and not really interested in the outcome. It’s not about some arbitrary notion of “personalness”, but of interest. Yes, it’s more probable that someone from Chile is more interested in Chilean than in French elections, but it’s entirely possible for it to be the other way around.

If you still not convinced, think of this: weather horaries are among the easiest ones to answer. No one in the entire world is even remotely “personally” involved in the weather.

And weather horaries work like a charm.

The relationship between John Gadbury and William Lilly are a mix of a Brazilian Soapopera and a Hollywood war movie.

Lilly — the radically Anglican, rabidly pro-Parliament, astrologer, was Gadbury’s teacher (Gadbury was fiercely pro-King and boldly Catholic).

Their religious and political differences made them become bitter enemies.

This is not the internet of the 21st Century. That does not mean one wouldn’t speak at an Event if the other was a lecturer, or that they would occasionally throw social media hints at each other.

They wrote books and pamphlets, and answered them; Gadbury included Lilly’s natal chart in his “Collection Geniturarum” solely to have an excuse to insult him.

The complex and changing situation of the English Civil War made them reconcile later in life; if I’m not mistaken, Lilly helped him after King Charles was executed, and Gadbury returned the favor after the Restoration.

The last bit was, in part, an ad.

I have retyped and annotated John Gadbury’s “The Nativity of King Louis XIV”, and published it on Gumroad.

It’s a fun read; but I admit it, not because of the astrological mastery, quite the opposite. Gadbury gets it wrong so many times I suspect he was not really trying to get it right: he wanted to praise the Sun King.

You can buy it here: “The Nativity of King Lewis XIV”

That’s it for now. This is a bit long already.

Stay safe, and have fun.

And, please, don’t forget to: