Astronomy, as thus understood, was not merely the queen of sciences, it was the mistress of the world:  taught secretly in the temples, its adepts—­at least, those who had passed through the regular curriculum of study which it required—­became almost a distinct class in society.  The occupation was a lucrative one, and its accomplished professors had numerous rivals whose educational antecedents were unknown, but who excited the envy of the experts in their trading upon the credulity of the people.  These quacks went about the country drawing up horoscopes, and arranging schemes of birthday prognostications, of which the majority were without any authentic warranty.  The law sometimes took note of the fact that they were competing with the official experts, and interfered with their business:  but if they happened to be exiled from one city, they found some neighbouring one ready to receive them.

Chaldaea abounded with soothsayers and necromancers no less than with astrologers; she possessed no real school of medicine, such as we find in Egypt, in which were taught rational methods of diagnosing maladies and of curing them by the use of simples.  The Chaldaeans were content to confide the care of their bodies to sorcerers and exorcists, who were experts in the art of casting out demons and spirits, whose presence in a living being brought about those disorders to which humanity is prone.  The facial expression of the patient during the crisis, the words which escaped from him in delirium, were, for these clever individuals, so many signs revealing the nature and sometimes the name of the enemy to be combated—­the Fever-god, the Plague-god, the Headache-god.  Consultations and medical treatment were, therefore, religious offices, in which were involved purifications, offerings, and a whole ritual of mysterious words and gestures.  The magician lighted a fire of herbs and sweet-smelling plants in front of his patient, and the clear flame arising from this put the spectres to flight and dispelled the malign influences, a prayer describing the enchantments and their effects being afterwards recited.  “The baleful imprecation like a demon has fallen upon a man;—­wail and pain have fallen upon him,—­direful wail has fallen upon him,—­the baleful imprecation, the spell, the pains in the head!—­This man, the baleful imprecation slaughters him like a sheep,—­for his god has quitted his body—­his goddess has withdrawn herself in displeasure from him,—­a wail of pain has spread itself as a garment upon him and has overtaken him!” The harm done by the magician, though terrible, could be repaired by the gods, and Merodach was moved to compassion betimes.  Merodach cast his eyes on the patient, Merodach entered into the house of his father Ea, saying:  “My father, the baleful curse has fallen like a demon upon the man!” Twice he thus speaks, and then adds:  “What this man ought to do, I know not; how shall he be healed?” Ea replies to his son Merodach: