THE
SATURN
MYTH
A REINTERPRETATION OF RITES AND SYMBOLS ILLUMINATING SOME OF THE DARK CORNERS OF PRIMORDIAL SOCIETY
David N. Talbott
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Intrigued by Velikovsky’s claim that Saturn was once the pre-eminent planetary god, David Talbott resolved to examine its mythical character. “I wanted to know,” he wrote, “if ancient sources had a coherent story to tell about the planet . . . I had no inkling of the spectacular tale hidden in the chronicles.”
In this startling re-interpretation of age-old symbolism Talbott argues that the “Great God” or “Universal Monarch” of the ancients was not the sun, but Saturn, which once hung ominously close to the earth, and visually dominated the heavens.
Talbott’s close textual and symbolic analysis reveals the fundamental themes of Saturn imagery and proves that all of them — including the “cosmic ship”, the “island at the top of the world”, the “eye of heaven” and “the revolving temple” were based on celestial observations in the northern sky. In addition he shows how such diverse symbols as the Cross, “sun”-wheels, holy mountains, crowns of royalty and sacred pillars grew out of ancient Saturn worship. Talbott contends that Saturn's appearance at the time, radically different from today, inspired man's leap into civilization, since many aspects of early civilization can be seen as conscious efforts to re-enact or commemorate Saturn’s organization of his “celestial” kingdom.
A fascinating look at ancient history and cosmology, The Saturn Myth is a provocative book that might well change the way you think about man’s history and the history of the universe.
David N. Talbott is the founder and former publisher of Pensee, an out-growth of the Student Academic Forum which developed the book, Velikovsky Reconsidered. He is also the co-author of The Ecstasy of Sati-Ra, a cosmological mystery. He now lives with his family in Oregon.
Talbott, David N., The Saturn Myth ISBN: 0-385-113376-5
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 76-51986 Copyright © 1980 by David N.Talbott.
All Rights Reserved.
Printed in the United States of America. First Edition.
Kindle version created by PapaLazzzaru, Aug 2013
CONTENTS
THE “ONE GOD” OF ARCHAIC MONOTHEISM THE UNIVERSAL MONARCH
The Age of Kronos The Rites of Kingship
THE COSMOS AND THE DIVINE ASSEMBLY
Womb and Thigh Womb and Cosmos The Hermaphrodite
The Egyptian Paradise The World Wheel
The One-Wheeled Chariot The City of Heaven
The Enclosure as Prototype The World Navel
The Four-eyed or Four-faced God The Foundation Stone
Symmetrical Elaborations of the Sun-Cross
The Egyptian Temple Temple and Womb The Crown
In Summary: A Coherent Doctrine
Japan, China, Iran, Siberia Siberia
Greece and Rome Western Semitic The Americas
The Mount of Masculine Power The Cosmic Mountain Personified The Single Leg
The Serpent/Dragon The Stream of Life
The Crescent and Saturn The Crescent and Womb Crescent and Motherland The Crescent and Mount
Who Were the Dioscuri? The Black and White Twins Symbolism of the Crescent
THE CRESCENT-WINGS INTERCONNECTED SYMBOLS
Above and Below, Left and Right Saturn’s Day
CONCLUSION BIBLIOGRAPHY ENDNOTES
- Introduction
The planet Saturn today is recognizable only to those who know where to look for it. But a few thousand years ago Saturn dominated the earth as a sun, presiding over a universal Golden Age.
Modern man considers it self-evident that our familiar heavens differ hardly at all from the heavens encountered by the earliest star worshippers. He assumes that the most distinctive bodies venerated in primitive times were the sun and moon, followed by the five visible planets and various constellations—all appearing as they do today, but for such ever-so-slight changes as the precession of the equinoxes.
This long-standing belief not only confines present discussion of ancient myth and religion; it is the fixed doctrine of modern astronomy and geology: every prevailing theory of the solar system and of earth’s past rests upon an underlying doctrine of cosmic uniformity—the belief that the clocklike regularity of heavenly motions can be projected backward indefinitely.
But the evidence assembled in the following pages indicates that within human memory extraordinary changes in the planetary system occurred: in the earliest age recalled by man the planet Saturn was the most spectacular light in the heavens and its impact on the ancient world overwhelming. In fact Saturn was the one “great god” invoked by all mankind. The first religious symbols were symbols of Saturn, and so pervasive was the planet god’s influence that the ancients knew him as the creator, the king of the world, and Adam, the first man.
Since the only meaningful defense of this claim is the entire body of evidence presented here, I shall not presume upon the reader’s credulity, but only ask that he follow the narrative to its end.
Myth And Catastrophe
If our generation disdains the possibility of fact in the language of myth it is because we are aware of discrepancy between myth and the modern world view, and we ascribe it to the blindness or superstition of the ancients. There is hardly an ancient tale which fails to speak of world-destroying upheavals and shifting cosmic orders. Indeed, we are so accustomed to the catastrophic character of the stories that we hardly give it a second thought. When the myths tell of suns which have come and gone, or of planetary gods whose wars threatened to destroy mankind, we are likely to take them as amusing and absurdly exaggerated accounts of local floods, earthquakes, and eclipses—or write them off altogether as expressions of unconstrained fancy. How many scholars, seeking to unravel the astronomical legends and symbols of antiquity, have questioned whether the heavenly bodies have always coursed on the same paths they follow today? In the past three hundred years barely a handful of writers have claimed any connection between myth and actual celestial catastrophe—:
William Whiston published in 1696 A New Theory of the Earth, arguing that the biblical Deluge resulted from a cometary cataclysm. The book produced a storm of scientific objections and had no lasting impact outside Christian orthodoxy.
In 1882 and 1883 two books by Ignatius Donnelly appeared: Atlantis, the Antediluvian World, and Ragnarok: the Age of Fire and Gravel. Relying on global myths, Donnelly claimed that a massive continent called Atlantis once harboured a primordial civilization, but the entire land sank beneath the sea when a comet rained destruction on the earth. Both of Donnelly’s books became best sellers and are still available today. Yet conventional theories of earth and the solar system remain unaffected by these works.
Around the turn of the century Isaac Vail argued in a series of brief papers that myths of cosmic upheaval relate to the collapse of ice bands surrounding our planet.1 Three quarters of a century after his death, his work is familiar only to the esoteric few.
In 1913 Hans Hoerbiger published his Glacial-Kosmogonie, contending that the great catastrophes described in ancient myth occurred when the Earth captured another planet which became our moon.2 The relatively small interest in Hoerbiger’s thesis vanished within a couple of decades.
This was the extent of noteworthy research into myth and catastrophe when Immanuel Velikovsky, in early 1940, first wondered whether a cosmic disturbance may have accompanied the Hebrew Exodus. According to the biblical account, massive plagues occurred, Sinai erupted, and the pillar of cloud and fire moved in the sky. His quest for a solution led Velikovsky through a systematic survey of world mythology and eventually to the conclusion that ancient myths constitute a collective memory of celestial disorder. The great gods, Velikovsky observed, appear explicitly as planets. In the titanic wars vividly depicted by ancient chroniclers the planets moved on erratic courses, appearing to wage battles in the sky, exchanging electrical discharges, and more than once menacing the earth.
Velikovsky set forth his claims of celestial catastrophe in his book Worlds in Collision (published in 1950), proposing that first Venus and then Mars, in the period 1500-686 B.C., so disturbed the Earth’s axis as to produce world-wide destruction. The book became an immediate best seller and the focus of one of the great scientific controversies of this century.3
I mention Velikovsky not only because his work obviously relates to the thesis of this book, but because, as a matter of record, Velikovsky first directed my attention toward Saturn. In a manuscript still awaiting publication Velikovsky proposed that the now-distant planet was once the dominant heavenly body, and he identified Saturn’s epoch with the legendary Golden Age. While I have not seen Velikovsky’s unpublished manuscript on Saturn, a brief outline of his idea inspired the present inquiry: was Saturn once the preeminent light in the heavens?
Yet I possessed at the outset no conception of the broad thesis presented here—which fell into place with surprising rapidity, once I set out to reconstruct the Saturn myth. While expecting to find, at best, only faint echoes of Saturn (or no hint at all), I found instead that the ancients, looking back to “the beginnings,” were obsessed with the planet-god and strove in a thousand ways to relive Saturn’s epoch. The most common symbols of antiquity, which our age universally regards as solar emblems , etc.) were originally unrelated to our sun. They were literal pictures of Saturn, whom the entire ancient world invoked as “the sun.” In the original age to which the myths refer, Saturn was no remote speck faintly discerned by terrestrial observers; the planet loomed as an awesome and terrifying light. And if we are to believe the wide- spread accounts of Saturn’s age, the planet-god’s home was the unmoving celestial pole, the apparent pivot of the heavens, far removed from the visible path of Saturn today.
At first glance, however, the Saturn myth seems to present an entanglement of bizarre images. The earliest, most venerated religious texts depict the great god sailing in a celestial ship, consorting with winged goddesses, fashioning revolving islands, cities and temples, or abiding upon the shoulders of a cosmic giant. It is impossible to pursue Saturn’s ancient image without encountering the paradise of Eden, the lost Atlantis, the fountain of youth, the one-wheeled “chariot of the gods,” the all-seeing Eye of heaven, or the serpent-dragon of the deep. Though celebrated as living, visible powers, none of Saturn’s personifications or mythical habitats conforms to anything in our familiar world. Yet once one seeks out the concrete nature of these images, it becomes clear that each referred to the same celestial form. The subject is a Saturnian configuration of startling simplicity—whose appearance, transformation, and eventual disappearance became the focus of all ancient rites.
I now have little doubt that, if Velikovsky had pursued the Saturn question to the end, he would have perceived a vastly greater influence of the planet than he originally recognized. He would have discovered also that the full story of Saturn adds a new perspective to much of the mythological material gathered in Worlds in Collision. (In this connection I must stress that I alone am responsible for the themes and conclusions presented in this book. Realizing that Velikovsky has had to defend his own heresy for better than a quarter of a century, I have no desire to burden him with the heresy of others.)
Nothing came as a greater surprise to me than the sheer quantity of material bearing directly on the Saturn tradition. The scope of the subject matter made it necessary to separate the material into two volumes: the first dealing with the original Saturnian apparition, the second with Saturn’s catastrophic fate. This initial volume then, focuses on the primordial age of cosmic harmony and the unified image of Saturn as king of the world.