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Serpents in the Stars: The Hydra Constellation

by December 30, 2020

Written by Danielle Alexander, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

In modern astronomy, this constellation is often divided into two or four parts. One is a female water snake called Hydra, the other, Hydrus. A smaller constellation located in the southern hemisphere, Hydrus is considered the male counterpart of this giant, sprawling star serpent.

At twenty-seven stars, this is the largest constellation in the sky, visible from almost anywhere around the world. Unfortunately, it lacks particularly bright stars, so can be difficult to spot. The brightest, an orange star named Alphard, meaning solitary in Arabic, is so named due to its seeming loneliness in the abyss.

The six stars that form the snake’s head are the constellation’s most distinctive feature. The head has a culmination on January 31st, whereas the tail culmination occurs during April. Culmination is when the constellation, or in this instance part of the constellation, reaches the zenith of the celestial sphere’s rotation, appearing higher in the sky.

Greek Astronomy

An artistic impression of Hydra with its surrounding asterisms. Image: Sidney Hall

In case you haven’t noticed, humans have a curious fascination with the night sky. Some of the stories we “see” as constellations go all the way back to Mesopotamian times (1300-1000 BC), where sky-watching was a prestigious occupation.

Gradually, early astronomy developed a mythic component. Over time, different narratives evolved in response to changes in interests and values over the generations, reflected in patterns in the sky. These narratives likely experienced dramatic development during the transition from oral to written transmission, but to what is extent is unknown.

Today, the International Astronomical Union lists 88 official constellations, many of which date back to Ptolemy’s seminal work on astronomy, The Almagest (A.D 150).

Compared to the rest of the ancient world, the Greeks began investigating the stars rather late (Hesiod and Homer, 500 BC). As such, they incorporated a lot of astronomy from their eastern neighbors. The Greek astral mythos canon was solidified by Eratosthenes, in a work now lost to us.

Slithering Across the Sky

Hydra photographed above the scenic lake of Llyn y Fan Fach in the Brecon Beacons Dark Sky Reserve in Wales, U.K. Image: Huw James Media

Hydra was identified as far back as ancient Sumer, where it was named after the primordial salt-water dragon goddess, Tiamat. In the myth, Tiamat slaughters the inhabitants of Earth, her offspring with Abzu/Apsu, the primordial god of fresh water, after they had slain her beloved. As myth and time progressed, she was usurped by the storm god Marduk, who overthrew the queen to gain divine regency amongst the Mesopotamian pantheons.

The introduction of Marduck, Babylon’s supreme deity, reflected the increase of political power that Babylon had over the Sumerian and Akkadian states of Mesopotamia. In this way, the Mesopotamian myth of the serpent contains a simplified, mythologized history of the region.

The serpent also held importance in Egypt, where it was likened to the unfurling, curling nature of the Nile, signifying changes in zodiacal alignments and celestial events.

However, in ancient Greece, this constellation was the formidable Lernean Hydra, the second of the great Labors of Heracles. The story goes that Hercules was set against the Hydra, mythological monster with nine heads that oozed venomous substances from gaping jaws.

The offspring of Typhon and Echidne, reared by Hera, the Hydra was terrorizing the sacred and fertile region of Lerna, near Argos. On ancient Greek coins, the Hydra is stylized with seven heads to mimic the river Amymone, where it was said to have lived prior to invading the Lernean swamp. The problem of the multiple heads couldn’t be resolved by decapitation due to their fierce regrowth, sprouting two or three more heads from their bloody stumps.

Heracles, with the aid of Athena, tempted the Hydra out of hiding with flaming arrows and held his breath when it emerged. He then lopped off its heads, but they just grew back. The twisting tail sought to trip him as it gripped his ankles and he uselessly waved his club around. Hera, determined to see the young hero fail, sent a crab to pinch his feet. It was swiftly squished. This then became the astrological constellation of Cancer.

Hercules and the Hydra

The flailing and ever-increasing number of heads was becoming overwhelming for Heracles, who was saved by his charioteer, Iolaus. Iolaus heroically set fire to the grove in which the battle occurred and waved burning branches at the fresh stumps, cauterizing the wounds and preventing their regrowth. This also provided sufficient distraction for Heracles, who was able to access the golden head of the Hydra and remove it with a golden falchion (a type of sword), thus claiming victory over his second trial. He then dipped his arrows into the disemboweled body of the monster. However, his victory was short-lived as Eurystheus, who had set the trial, held that Hercules had cheated because he received assistance.

Lerna was known as the location where Dionysus had ventured to the Underworld, and so housed several divine shrines to the god, where secret nocturnal rites were performed. Additionally, the Mysteries of Demeter were celebrated there, in a shrine set at the locale where Hades took Persephone to the Underworld. It appears this location was a hotspot for traversing realms. Robert Graves has suggested that this classical mythology was a historical attempt to suppress the archaic fertility rituals of the Mysteries that took place there.

Crimes of Corvus

Urania’s Mirror, 1825

Hydra actually has two constellations perched on its back: Crater, or Bowl, and Corvus, or Crow. This peculiar combination is associated with Apollo’s punishment of the Crow. The tale goes that the bird was sent by Apollo to retrieve water for a ritual libation. Unfortunately, some figs distracted his feathered friend while on the quest. The Crow waited several days for the figs to ripen in order to pluck the delicious snack from the tree and gobble them up, having forgotten his heaven-sent task.

Once his tummy was full, the Crow suddenly remembered – the water for the gods! In a bid to save his own feathers, he snatched a water-snake and brought it before Apollo, claiming it had consumed all the spring water. Apollo, seeing the ruse, cursed the Crow to suffer from thirst during the season of fig ripening. In order that the crime would not be forgotten, Apollo put the imagery into the heavens, with neither the Snake nor the Crow able to reach the bowl of water.

In some versions, the Crow returns with a bowl of water, albeit several days late, and the Snake was only placed amongst the stars to deter the Crow from the bowl. This is not the only story involving Apollo cursing the Crow, and it makes you wonder why he kept them in employment!

The ‘Bowl’ Constellation in Troy

Image showing Hydra in the southern sky at around 9 pm ET, mid-latitudes, Northern Hemisphere. Credit: © Starry Night Software

The Bowl, also known as the Crater, is a constellation in its own right and has mythological roots going back to Troy. While the city was ruled by Demophon, it was plagued with a … well, plague. Demophon, distraught by the epidemic, invoked Apollo, who had worked with Poseidon to construct Troy and so favored the city. In order to stop the plague, Apollo demanded a maiden of noble origin be sacrificed to the patron god of the cities every year.

Demophon devised a system in which all the noble women would be sacrificed except his own daughters. This worked for a while, until another noble family patriarch, Mastousios, refused to enter his daughter. The king, outraged, ordered that his daughter be sacrificed, without drawing lots.

Mastousios played the long game and did not seek immediate retribution against the king. He pretended to befriend him, and spent a year winning his favor. When it came to the sacrifice, he informed the king he had chosen a victim this year and organized the ceremony. The king, no doubt busy with royal affairs of state, sent his daughters ahead of him with a wave and a “I’ll meet you there.”

The vengeful noble Mastousious slaughtered the king’s daughters and mixed their blood into the wine that he presented to the King upon his arrival. Unsurprisingly, the plan came to a bad end when the King realized what had happened and threw Mastousious into the sea. This body of water retained the name, and the event was placed into the sky as a reminder against abusing power for one’s own benefit.

This tale does not bare much resemblance to the imagery presented in the stars. It appears to have been created to provide an origin for the harbor and sea name in the region, rather than being representative of the story around the constellation.

Conclusion

The serpent in the stars reflects the tales of love, betrayal, and political upheaval. The size of this constellation reflects the variations of mythos surrounding it, regardless of whether it is seen entirely as Hydra or divided into the crow and the crater. As the story of the bowl constellation in Troy demonstrates, some Greek tales almost seem forced into place. The serpentine motif is predominantly associated with the pre-Olympian pantheons and the rage of primordial Tiamat, yet it continues to dominate today by taking up the largest part of the night sky.

References:

Cornelius, G. (2005). The complete guide to the constellations. London: Duncan Baird.

Ératosthène, Hygin, Aratus and Hard, R. (2015). Constellation myths. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp.110-114

Fontenrose, J. (1940). Apollo and the Sun-God in Ovid. The American Journal of Philology, 61(4), 429-444. doi:10.2307/291381

Graves, R. (2012). The Greek myths. New York: Penguin Books.

Kirk, G. S. (1972). Greek Mythology: Some New Perspectives. The Journal of Hellenic Studies, 92, pp.74-85

Liritzis, I., Bousoulegka, E., Nyquist, A., Castro, B., Alotaibi, F., & Drivaliari, A. (2017). New evidence from archaeoastronomy on Apollo oracles and Apollo-Asclepius related cult. Journal Of Cultural Heritage, 26, 129-143. doi: 10.1016/j.culher.2017.02.011

Schaefer, B. (2006). The Origin of the Greek Constellations. Scientific American, 295(5), pp.96-101.

Crown of the Northern Skies: Corona Borealis

by November 20, 2020

Written by Danielle Alexander, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

In Eastern traditions, this constellation is called, rather humbly, the Broken Bowl. It was the ancient Greeks that imbued it with starry mythos and royalty.

The Corona Borealis rises with Scorpion and sets at the rise of the Crab and Lion. It has nine stars in total and only three of them are considered bright, yet it is visible in the Northern Hemisphere during the evenings of late spring and early summer.

One of these stars, known as the Blaze Star, is unpredictable and flares aggressively between magnitudes. It sits between several of the human figures in the sky; the Kneeler, Boötes and Ophiuchus.

The crown can be seen amidst several human-like constellations.

Greek Astronomy

During the 2nd century BC, Hipparchus wrote The Commentary, revolutionizing the way constellations were understood by applying scientific enquiry to the stars. This eventually led to the defining of 88 official constellations, many of which have been known since Ptolemy’s The Algamest (A.D 150).

Ptolemy described traditions that had been popularized in Greek society in a wide-reaching poem by Aratus c. 275 B.C, The Phaenomena.  This poem was said to heavily reference the works of Eudocus (366 B.C), lost tomes believed to contain the earliest Greek description of the skies.

The earliest surviving written accounts of the stars are the war-filled epics of Homer and cosmological fables of Hesiod (both dated roughly to the 8th century BC). However, these sources only mention major constellations like Orion, the Great Bear and the significant star clusters. That is all, and other Greek sources are remarkably silent about the skies for quite some time.

While the Great Bear has been identified in the skies since palaeolithic times, most of the constellations were defined by 1300- to 1000 B.C in ancient Babylon, and by c.400 BC, the Babylonian zodiac had been brought to Greece.

Plato encouraged the introduction of astronomy and astrology from the East and Egypt, holding the sky-watchers in high regard. At the same time, he wholeheartedly believed the Greeks would improve the imperfect, inherently unreliable system through geometry and mathematics.

The Greek system of constellations housed only eighteen star-images that did not originate elsewhere, and these are undeniably Greek, featuring heroes such as Heracles and Ophiuchus and animals like the Dolphin.

This reflects how changes in culture and society are reflected in the heavens, with the narratives developing alongside the people. As the Hermetics would say: As above, so below.

Urania’s Mirror – Hercules and Corona Borealis

The ‘Corona’ Myth

Corona, which means crown, is the crowning wreath of Ariadne, an eternal reminder of love lost, and love found, and the mythical origins of the garland headdresses worn by women at weddings. Why? Well…

On her wedding day, Ariadne received a prized crown that later became a bridal tradition. The gift was from Aphrodite and the Horai (the Seasons), crafted of ‘fiery gold and Indian jewels’ by Hephaestus and delivered by Dionysus, who had his own seductive agenda. The rambunctious god was discouraged by a divine relative to leave the girl alone – for now.

The bride belonged to Theseus. The hero of Athens had abandoned (or was forced to leave – the sources are not clear, and the debate is still on) Ariadne after using her, and her glowing crown, to leave the Labyrinth of Crete and the city who housed it. He had stolen the princess away, and abandoned her on the next stop, so it seems preposterous that the storytellers claim that the crown was then placed into the heavens to commemorate the love of Theseus and Ariadne – talk about a rushed ending to a bad romance novel!

Ariadne, by John William Waterhouse (1849-1917)

An alternative version sees Ariadne seduced by Dionysus after he finds her abandoned on the sands of Naxos (or Dia). She then bore the wine-god several sons: Oenopion, Thoas, Staphylus, Latromis, Euanthes, and Tauropolus.

It has been suggested that this divine marriage is due to the vine-cult reaching mainland Greece through Crete, where Ariadne was understood to be a moon-goddess and their children ancestors of several island tribes. Dionysus grieved greatly when she passed to the Underworld and placed her wedding wreath in the sky as an eternal memorial.

But Maybe It Isn’t a Bridal Crown?

Another variant sees the crown as Theseus’, hence its placement beside him in the sky (the Kneeler). Dolphins guided Theseus when the hero dived into the Cretan harbor to retrieve the ring of Minos during an informal, yet no less important, trial to prove his divine parentage.

Theseus crowned with a laurel wreath after slaying the Centaur Bianor, by Joseph Werner

The jury’s still out as to whether Theseus was gifted the crown by Thetis, famed mother of Achilles, or Amphitrite, the little-known wife of Poseidon. Either way, the sea presented Theseus, a descendant of Poseidon, with the crown. It was an early wedding gift, so when Theseus wed Ariadne, he gifted it to her.

Alternatively, Dionysus sought to return his mother, Semele, to the world of the living. On his quest, he met Polymnos in Argos who claimed to know the route to the Underworld and soon led the way. However, Dionysus feared that the Underworld would taint the gorgeous golden crown he carried, so he deposited it for safe-keeping at a site henceforth known as Stephanos. After he retrieved Semele, he cast the crown to the sky. This tale feels incomplete and there is very little to confirm it.

Mythic Wordplay

The etymology of Naxos involves several theories; Homer’s usage of dia could indicate that Naxos was the ‘isle of the Goddess’ as Dia was known to be its’ capital town, however, the name could also derive from naxai (sacrifices), strongly connected to the thysai (rites) of the island as there were many pious sacrifices made to honour the gods.

The connection between ‘crown’ and ‘dia’ sparked further etymological curiosity within me – was there an etymological route for the word ‘diadem’?

Interestingly, the root of the word is connected with the Greek diadema (the headband worn by Persian kings, adopted by Alexander the Great and his successors, enforcing the regal attachment to the band) but also has links to ‘bind across’/’throughout’/’twice’. Ariadne was indeed bound throughout, either by fate or marriage vows (of which she has two).

Thesmophoria, by Francis Davis Millet (1894-1897)

Wedding Rites

Weddings in the ancient world were infused with religio-cultic elements that were believed to enhance fertility, provide protection and purification to the couple as well as strengthen their bond. The wedding procession began at the bride’s house and ended at the groom’s, literally following the passage from one home to another.

These rites could last several days and usually took place just before the new moon. Specifically, the moon of the month Gamelion (January/February), which was named after deities presiding over marriage protection; Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Peitho and Artemis (according to Plutarch). A festival occurred in this month, of the same name, and was celebrated around the same time as modern Valentine’s Day to symbolize the sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera (despite its countless flaws).

Aldobrandini Wedding fresco, 1st century BC

On their wedding day, brides would offer personal possessions or a lock of her hair to Hera or Aphrodite and wear a veil and wreath until the feast, which had been provided by her father, was finished. The couple-to-be-wed would bathe according to custom in a ritual called λουτρν νυμφικόν, loutròn nymphikón.

A young boy who had not experienced the death of his parents (therefore representing vitality and strength) would walk behind the couple during their ceremony, “wearing a wreath of thorny plants intertwined with acorns, [and] carried a basket and distributed bread to the guests, reciting the words: φυγον κακόν, ερον μεινον” (I have escaped evil and found something better). This symbolizes the increased prestige provided by marriage and has been argued to be reminiscent of the nomadic hunter-gather transitioning to civilized community cult rituals.

Further homely rites occur, led by the bride as she invites the home to accept her and for protection and fertility including: plate smashing, honey and sesame seed cake distribution, showering in nuts, and, in Sparta, the shaving of ones head and wearing of mens’ clothes in order to deceive maleficent spirts.

During these unprecedented times, it can be hard to associate the word corona with light, love and royalty. However, these tales display how the words can change over time. They show how many perspectives can arise about a singular topic, how different yet similar they are – as if to fit this theme, this is not the only Corona constellation in the sky! More on that later, but for now, let us allow the Corona Borealis constellation remind us of beauty, love and strength.

 
 

Everyone knows about the seahorse, but what about the star horse?

by November 13, 2020

Written by Danielle Alexander, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

The horse features relatively heavily in Greek mythology, with Hesiod referring to a horse during his invocation to the Heliconian Muses at the start of his Theogony.

Thus it comes as no surprise that the ancients, who placed their greatest stories and symbols in the night sky, identified a horse by the name of constellation Pegasus. Yet which myth does it refer to? That, of course, is a trickier question.

It could be a reference to a metamorphosed maiden named Hippe, having taken the equine shape when fleeing her father, knowing he would violently disapprove of her out-of-wedlock pregnancy, despite its divine lineage – the young girl had been seduced by a son of Helen of Troy, Aoiles.

Diana, Chasseresse, by Jules Lefebvre. Diana is equated with the Greek goddess Artemis

Artemis, feeling pity for the woman who had been pious for so many years, hid her in the sky. The backside of the horse is never seen as to conceal her female form.

A total of 18 stars create this half-horse constellation, its equine shape identified by a distinctive square. (Equine is taken loosely, for the ancients had creative imaginations and I have to strain to find the “horse”.) 

Its most famous star is Andromedae, located in the north-eastern corner of square, but its brightest star has Arabian etymology. It is known as Homam (“lucky star of the hero”), potentially memorializing an Arabic hero said to have mounted the divine steed, or sometimes as Hammam (‘whisperer’) in reference to the secret ancient art of horse whispering.

This constellation can be seen galloping into midnight culmination during September in the Northern Hemisphere and some middle-latitude Southern locations.

Pegasus constellation artwork by Liz Forester

Anonymous ancient sources claim it could potentially portray Pegasus, the winged steed of Bellerophon that sprung from the head of Medusa, despite a lack of twinkling wings.

The story goes that a Greek queen by the name of Anteia fell in love with hero Bellerophon, but he refused her advances. In retaliation – and fear he would speak of the incident to her husband – she accused Bellerophon of rape. Fortunately for the accused, the King had taken a liking to the man and did not wish to punish him directly.

So, he gave Bellerophon a seemingly impossible but highly honorable task: to defend the king’s daughter’s honor against the torturous Chimera.

Against all odds, Bellerophon was victorious, but ultimately committed hubris – he sought to transgress the realm of mortals to reach the home of the gods, Mount Olympus. He was hurled from his horse at the boundary. As Bellerophon cascaded through the sky to his death, the story goes that the horse sailed through the heavens and remained in the stars.

Bellerophon riding Pegasus, 1914

Greek astronomy

The Greeks were not alone in their desire to find familiar things among the twinkling stars of the mysterious abyss above us. Astronomical knowledge has been identified in prehistory, arising from the observation and tracking of the stars to situate peoples and their cultures within the cosmos.

Narratives then evolved over time, with the earliest Greek sources being Hesiod and Homer, valued highly for their insight to ancient cosmology. The constellation narratives developed slowly, from generation to generation, and likely took form during the transition from oral to written transmission, but to what is extent is unknown.

Myth is both molded by culture and molds it, predominantly through art – Classical astronomical art is still recognized in modern astronomical artwork and naming processes.

Today, there are 88 constellations officially recognized by the International Astronomical Union, and many of them have been accepted since Ptolemy’s The Almagest (A.D 150). Constellations often originate in older lands, defined by the Mesopotamians between 1300-1000 BC, but the Greek astral mythos canon was solidified by Eratosthenes in a work now lost to us.

Even though the Greeks were late to the constellation conversation (500 BC) – and received a lot of their knowledge from their Eastern neighbors  – it was the Greeks that introduced the word katasterismos or catasterism; the process of being set in the heavens. Despite knowing many constellations for the purposes of navigation and indication of seasonal change, many extravagant mythic connections were added later.

The Pegasus constellation

Horse history

The horse was domesticated on the Eurasian Steppes during the 4th millennium BC and gradually dispersed through the Near East and Mediterranean. The domesticated horse was expensive to purchase and maintain, yet quickly became important in many aspects of the ancient life (warfare, travel, sports, and hunting), despite being largely limited to the privileged class.

The second-highest rank in Athens was that of hippeis or ‘horse-owner’; therefore, the horse was a status symbol.  Chariot racers were also very popular and took place in arenas known as ‘Hippodromes’. There were also other equid-related sporting activities, such as horseback acrobatics and horseback javelin throws.

It was said that Poseidon was the father of all horses, so they were often ritually sacrificed through drowning, and most frequently in funerary ceremonies. These customs, predominantly displayed in Homer’s Illiad with the extravagant funeral of Patroclus, can be dated back to Mycenaean times.

For the modern reader, the horse is no longer a vital part of daily life. Horses are associated with the countryside, a different lifestyle than the one most of us are used to. Or they are simply kept in paddocks and rode along country roads. Thus, it’s easy to lose sight of the importance of the horse for the ancients and why it features heavily in mythologies across the world.

Through astronomy, the ancient Greeks immortalized the horse, providing it with an eternal field of stars to gallop through, its mane flowing in the abyss of night.

The Eagle, or Aquila, Constellation

by September 23, 2020

Written by Danielle Alexander, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom

Zeus features heavily in a lot of starlore, and the Eagle constellation is no exception.  The predominantly accepted mythos for this constellation is the abduction of Ganymede. Zeus had facilitated the kidnapping, fancying the beautiful mortal boy as his personal cup-bearer.

In the constellation, which is situated south of Cygnus on the equator, making it visible from both the Northern and Southern hemispheres, poor Ganymede can be seen hanging from the claws of the eagle as he is swiftly taken to the heavens.

The constellation appears alongside several other bird constellations. The Eagle’s wings are spread, giving it the appearance of gliding through the stars. As Hyginus states, the beak is separated from the body by a milky circle. It was also said to set “at the rising of the Lion and rises with Capricorn”. (Hyginus, Astronomy, 3.15)

An artist’s impression of the constellation showing Ganymede being forcibly escorted to the Heavens. Image: Geoffrey Cornelius, 2005:43

Greek astronomy

Humans have a natural urge to identify familiar things amongst the twinkling stars of the mysterious abyss above us. These narratives came out of astronomical observations and ancient time tracking. The study of the sky began long before the earliest Greek sources that (sparsely) discuss them, Homer and Hesiod. They likely developed during the transition from oral to written transmission, but to what is extent is unknown.

Even though the Greeks were late to the constellation conversation (500 BC), they received a lot of their knowledge from their Eastern neighbors. The Greeks introduced the word katasterismos, or catasterism, which refers to the process of being set in the heavens. Constellations were used for navigation and an indication of seasonal change; many extravagant mythic connections were added later.

Today, there are 88 constellations officially defined by the International Astronomical Union, and many of them have been accepted since Ptolemy’s The Almagest (A.D 150).

Constellations created by the Mesopotamians between 1300-1000 BC originate in older lands, but the Greek astral mythos canon was solidified by Eratosthenes, in a work now lost to us.

Ganymede Waters Zeus as an Eagle by Bertel Thorvaldsen (Minneapolis Institute of Arts, Minneapolis, MN). Image: Wikipedia

Zeus and his trusted companion

The myth of Ganymede is very ancient lore, being told in the tale of Troy by Homer (Illiad 20.298ff) – albeit with no mention of an eagle escort. In the fifth Homeric Hymn to Apollo, Ganymede was said to be whisked off to Olympus by a ‘heaven-sent whirlwind’.

The eagle was not connected to this tale until the 4th century BC. The constellation was accepted as an eagle prior to this, so it is presumed that this addition was made to make the story fit the stars, probably because Ganymede is said to feature in his own nearby constellation, the water-pourer (Aquarius).

The eagle is said to have been chosen by Zeus, as ‘strives to fly straight into the rays of the rising sun’ (Hyginus, Astronomy 3.15). This association is linked to the origin of the Olympian rule; Zeus had been hidden from his father and when he left the island of Naxos to confront, the Titans, an eagle took flight with him. He regarded this as a favorable omen and deemed the eagle his sacred bird.

It’s not always about Zeus

Another variation sees this constellation representing the eagle that tore at the insides of Prometheus. As a descendant of Gaia and Uranus, he was a Titan whose name meant ‘foresight’ and was considered a protector of humanity. He taught the humans how to use the arts and sciences, much to Zeus’ chagrin, but pushed too far when he gave them fire, smuggled to the earth from the sun in a hollow fennel stem.

Zeus punished the Titan ferociously – he was chained a pillar in the Caucasus Mountains, and from dawn to dusk his insides were torn apart by a predatory bird. He healed each night, fresh for the onslaught of torture the following sunrise. Hercules pleaded with Zeus for mercy, which was granted. The wise centaur Chiron removed the Titan’s immortality in exchange for his freedom, and Hercules shot the eagle.

The punished Titans; Atlas and Prometheus. The eagle is shown to be eating Prometheus’ liver after he stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. Medium: A black-figure Lakonian kylix, c. 570-560 BCE. Image: Karl-Ludwig G. Poggemann via Mark Cartwright

On the other hand, this could be the story of how Hermes met Aphrodite. He fell head over heels in love with the goddess of beauty and her rejection to his advances were beyond disheartening – they were insulting.

Zeus took pity on the rejected Hermes. He sent an eagle to steal Aphrodites’ slipper as she bathed in the river Acheloos. He then gifted it to Hermes who was in Amythaonia, Egypt. She searched for her slipper and met her admirer, where romance bloomed. Grateful for the eagle’s help, Hermes placed its image in the sky.

Hermes’ tale, while referenced in the Odyssey, is heavily folkloric in structure. A very similar story features a courtesan Rhodopis, whose slipper is stolen and dropped onto the lap of the Egyptian pharaoh, who demanded the owner be found so he could wed her. This folkloric theme is likely known to the modern reader in the Disney adaptation of the Brothers Grimm retelling of Cinderella.

Hermes, Aphrodite, and Eros. Image: Louis-Michel Van Loo (1748)

What about a mortal man?

It is also said that the Eagle constellation is about Merops, a moral placed amongst the stars by Hera.

Merops was married to Ethemeia, a nymph who rejected the worship of Artemis. She was felled by arrows by the vengeful goddess of the hunt, but was whisked away by Persephone, still alive but in the Underworld. Merops mourned, and his grief was so deep he yearned to join his wife. Moved by the bond the couple clearly shared, the goddess of marriage transformed him into an eagle and placed him in the heavens, hoping to free him from his memories.

However, why an eagle? Merops means bee-eater in Greek, so potentially he was transformed into a different bird until the eagle variation emerged to fit the constellation.

The European bee-eater inhabits the southern Mediterranean and North/West Africa, with fossils extending from Israel to Russia. Potentially it was involved in mythos concerning love due to its’ magnificent beauty. Image: Otto Plantema via Oiseaux Birds

The Egyptian Eagle

For the Egyptians, this constellation was part of another they named ‘the Giant’, aptly named as it stretched from Aquila (Eagle) to Pegasus. The Mesopotamians identified a ‘Dead Man’ with their Eagle and attributed it para-zodiacal status, its ascension potentially due to housing the ‘royal’ star, Altair. It held special importance around the winter solstice and featured in several major astronomical lists from the time.

For example, an Old Babylonian (c.1830-1530 BC) text reveals a ‘Prayer to the Gods of the Night’, invoking the constellations to bless an entrail divination. Studying the stars was important in Mesopotamian culture, and they kept astronomical ‘diaries’ well into the Hellenistic Age, with the last example being after Persian conquest and dating to 75 AD. The emphasis placed by them on astronomy, and its’ primordial relationship to the gods and divination, is still seen today in certain places within the region.

It is not uncommon to find the eagle associated with solar or victory symbolism cross-culturally, both in the ancient and modern world. This association can be seen in several Eastern cultures, whereas the Western world has the Greek and Roman connection to Jupiter and the rays of the sun as well as the eventual appropriation of the eagle symbolism by right-wing propaganda (most memorably, Nazi Germany).

However, this constellation and its symbolism began with victory over those who would bring darkness and evil. Ningrisu, patron god of Sumerian Lagash, was the god of fertility, war and notably, the storm. In inscriptions, he is described as the master of the heavens and is shown with, or sometimes as, a lion-headed eagle named Imdugud. This divine bird is associated with the rays of the sun and Ningrisu himself was identified as a vanquisher of demons, darkness and evil. This aquiline and solar/storm symbolic connection had been cemented by the 3rd millennium BC – the same time that Babylonian seals start depicting a hero amidst the wings, a potential prototype for Ganymede.

The Akkadian ‘Seal of Adda’ dating from c.2300 BC potentially shows Aquila on the palm of a gods’ hand. Image: (BM 89115), The British Museum

The Eagle constellation shows how stories morph over time, and how they can be shaped to fill a required mould. It also shows the continuity of symbolism and its impact throughout the centuries and countries. Even the stars within the constellation are linked to the word ‘eagle’ despite being of various linguistic origin. The same sky really does lie above us all.

The Bear in the Big Blue Abyss: Ursa Major

by October 21, 2019

By Danielle Alexander, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom
When you look up at the twinkling stars in the velvet sky, what constellation is it you look for to orientate yourself? It is almost always the Ursa Major and Ursa Minor constellation duo – or as some (me) prefer to call them, the ‘saucepan set.’
This starry collection has been known by many names, including the Plough, Big/Little Dipper, Wagon/Oxherd, respectively, but most importantly, the Greater and Lesser Bears. Our focus today is on the Ursa Major; in the northern hemisphere, the constellation never sets below the horizon and reaches its’ zenith in the night sky at midnight in March.
Ursa Major

Seven bright stars are indicating Ursa Major. (Image: ESA Science & Technology)

Ancient Greek Astronomy?
This easily identifiable set of stars is the third largest constellation in the sky out of the 88 officially recognized constellations according to the International Astronomical Union – a pretty impressive feat. Most of these accepted groups have been documented since 150 A.D, by Ptolemy in his The Almagest.
But that doesn’t mean Ptolemy was the first to study the sky. It was during the 6th century BC that Greece absorbed the astronomy and mythology of their cultural neighbors: Mesopotamians, Persians, and Egyptians. Then, around the 4th century B.C, they adopted the Zodiac from the Babylonians. Indeed, the Greeks were quite late to the party, as the Mesopotamians had most of their constellations recorded between 1300 – 1000 B.C.
Painting of Ptolemy

Ptolemy with an armillary sphere model, by Joos van Ghent and Pedro Berruguete, 1476, Louvre, Paris

Mapping the stars and their movements likely developed alongside lunar monitoring. The skies were not only used for navigation and tracking time but also for inspiring awe and sparking the imagination. The star clusters became associated with mythic figures, legendary tales or, simply, aspects of daily life. The astral mythology that is most commonly known today had its canon unintentionally cemented by Eratosthenes in a work that is now, tragically, lost to us.
However, that does not mean we are without insight into ancient astral mythology!

Astral Mythology: Zeus and his childhood
Both of the earliest Greek sources, Hesiod and Homer (8th century B.C), mention the Great Bear constellation, but throughout Greek and Latin history, the mythos became muddled, and with the loss of essential works, it’s not possible to determine an ‘original.’
There is the claim that the duo of the Ursa Major and Minor constellations are the nymph nurses of Zeus, Helike and Cynosura, who raised him after he avoided getting eaten by his father, the Titan Cronos. Zeus then rewarded their help by placing them in the sky.

Showing the Bear image of the Constellation. (Image: Little Astronomy)

Another variation claims that Helike was a Cretan born worthy of heavenly placement, and it was just Cynosura who had been his nurse. Meanwhile yet another myth claims that the Ursa constellations are his bear-morphed nurses, and Zeus transformed himself into the constellation Draco to hide from Cronos, his baby-eating father.
However, these myths are much less common and recounted than the tale of Zeus and Callisto.
Zeus and one of his unfortunate lovers, Callisto
Callisto was a nymph huntress in service to the goddess Artemis, and as such, committed a vow of chastity. In some versions, she is the daughter of Lycaon, ruler of Arcadia, though her service to Artemis remains the same.
One day, the young maiden is seduced (again, variation dependent and also with questionable consent) by Zeus and is impregnated by the encounter. Artemis noticed the growing baby bump and banished Callisto. For a goddess connected with childbirth, you would have expected a little more leniency before banishment, but that isn’t the Olympian way…
Callisto’s transformation into a bear varies per tale. One states that Artemis caused the change as she banished the girl. Another places the morphing magic in Hera’s jealous hands, another in Zeus’ after being afraid he would get caught. Either way, Callisto birthed Arcas while in bear form.
Diana and Callisto by Rubens, c. 1635

Diana and Callisto by Rubens, c. 1635

The babe grew old and raised in Arcadia. One variation claims that Callisto, hearing his voice in the forest, rushed to Arcas, who knocked his hunting bow instinctively, unknowingly seconds from matricide. Another two sources state Hera encourages Artemis to hunt the bear; in one, Artemis kills the bear with no issues, whereas the other sees her spare the bear upon realizing its’ identity.
A differing source claims that Zeus raped Callisto when he was in the form of Artemis, causing the girl to claim the goddess was the cause of her misfortune, and thus Artemis punished the maiden for the miscommunication by changing her into a bear. Meanwhile, Arcas grew older and became a hunter and when the bear was brought to the city, Arcas naturally went to hunt her, his mother. However, Zeus interrupted the accidental attempted matricide, and feeling sorry for Callisto due to their bond, placed her in the heavens. It seems being hunted by your son is worth eternal twinkling in the sky.
Callisto

Callisto and Arcas by Hendrik Goltzius (1590) (Image: The British Museum)

Versions differ in retelling Callisto’s rise to the heavens. Some claim it’s after her death, some before, sometimes by Zeus and sometimes by Artemis. In another, Arcas grows to be the ancestor of the Arcadians, and in yet another, Callisto is the daughter of Arcadian ruler Lycaon and Arcas grows old as a hunter. The mythos is obviously ancient, complicated and has become confused over time. One even claims that her name was, in fact, Megisto, daughter of Ceteus, the ‘Kneeler’ constellation. Another name variation originates from Creten verses, which also indicates just how old this tale was within Greek culture;

“And thou, born of the transformed Lycaean nymph,
Who, snatched from the frozen heights of Arcadia,
Was forbidden by Tethys from ever bathing in the ocean,
For daring to consort with the husband of her foster-child.”
(Mythical Tales 177, Callisto)

As seen in the Cretan verses, the Titaness Tethys, wife of the Ocean had banned the Great Bear from ever bathing, or setting below the horizon, due to her involvement with Zeus’ infidelity.
It seems complicated
There is no doubt this tale is old and that the variations are confusing. But the most common mythos that the ancients understood to be connected to the Ursa Major constellation was bear-focused, and mostly centered around the myth of Callisto and Zeus, albeit with many variations. While we may never know the ‘real’ story of the Ursa Major, we can continue to marvel as its twinkling lights and imagine, as the ancients did, how they got there.
Bibliography

Cornelius, G. (2005). The complete guide to the constellations. London: Duncan Baird.
Boutsikas, E. (2011). Astronomical Evidence for the Timing of the Panathenaia. American Journal of Archaeology, 115(2), pp.303-309.
Schaefer, B. (2006). The Origin of the Greek Constellations. Scientific American, 295(5), pp.96-101.
Gibbon, W. B, (1964). Asiatic Parallels in North American Star Lore: Ursa Major. The Journal of American Folklore, 77(305), pp.236-250.
Graves, R. (2012). The Greek myths. New York: Penguin Books.
Ératosthène, Hygin, Aratus and Hard, R. (2015). Constellation myths. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Ruggles, C. (2005). Ancient Astronomy. Santa Barbara, Calif.: ABC-CLIO, pp.378-380.

Ptolemy, the Man who Reached the Stars

by May 17, 2019

By Mónica Correa, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom
 
The study of the earth, stars and space started millennia ago. With a lot of observation and subsequent writings, men such as Ptolemy built the foundations of our understanding of the universe that surrounds us.
Today we know that his name was, in fact, Klaudios Ptolemaios. He probably lived in or near Alexandria, Egypt during the times of the Roman Empire. Better known as Ptolemy, he made astronomical observations between the mid 120s and the early 140s of our era. Some have identified his method as Aristotelian, as while there are no records of his education, he regularly quotes Aristotle. This can give us hints regarding his methods.
From math and geography to music and optics, Ptolemy bequeathed us decades of work that are still a reference today.
Painting of Ptolemy

Ptolemy with an armillary sphere model, by Joos van Ghent and Pedro Berruguete, 1476, Louvre, Paris

Ptolemy’s Career
Sciences, as we know them today, have come a very long way. Over the centuries the broader categories have branched out into specific groups, which, of course affects the way we relate to ‘knowledge’.
According to Ptolemy, physics and theology are conjecture, while mathematics alone yields true knowledge and has the ability to contribute significantly to what we today consider the study of physics. This assertion was unprecedented in the history of ancient Greek philosophy.
Ptolemy

Early Baroque artist’s rendition of Ptolemy

While reading his work, it’s important to remember that Ptolemy does not distinguish the terms astronomy and astrology as we do. What we call astronomy explains and predicts the configurations and movements of celestial bodies; what we call astrology studies and predicts physical changes caused by the powers emanating from celestial bodies. For Ptolemy, these were one and the same.
Ptolemy’s Known Work
Ptolemy lived in the second century C.E. in or around Alexandria and developed astronomical models that served as the western world’s paradigm in astronomy for approximately 1400 years. Lasting straight up to the Scientific Revolution, Ptolemy’s ideas have been arguably referred to longer than any one else’s.
Quite a bit of his work is fortunately extant; some exist in their original versions, while others are translations. Harmonics, Geographia and Almagest are the best kept today.
Geographia by Ptolemy

Geography by Ptolemy, Latin manuscript of the early 15th century

Ptolemy’s Harmonics is about music theory and the mathematics of music. It contains three books, though unfortunately the last three chapters, 3.14-16, no longer exist; only their titles remain.
Almagest is a systematic treatise in thirteen books in which Ptolemy deduces the structure and quantitative parameters of geometrical models for the heavenly bodies from empirical evidence, including specific dated observations. The Almagest uses models to derive tables for calculating the positions of the heavenly bodies on any given date, together with other phenomena, such as eclipses and planetary first and last visibilities. In Almagest, Ptolemy treats Hipparchus as his only legitimate predecessor in theoretical astronomy.
Almagest is so important because Ptolemy presents a series of astronomical models, which aim to account for the movements of the stars and planets, including the sun and moon. The models are both demonstrative and predictive, which was a breakthrough at the time.
Geometric models

Geometric construction used by Hipparchus in his determination of the distances to the Sun and Moon

Another known work is Optics, however, some scholars have questioned Ptolemy’s authorship of this book. There, he explains how the eye emits a visual flux in the form of a cone, which is resolvable into a collection of rays traveling in straight lines. As in the case of the Harmonics, sections of the Optics have disappeared.
In the book On the Kritêrion, Ptolemy examines the criterion of truth, the method by which humans gain knowledge, and the nature and parts of the human soul. Similar to Optics, some scholars have questioned Ptolemy’s authorship of this book. Others prefer the idea that this could be one of his first writings.
The books On the Elements and On Weights have also been attributed to Ptolemy, but are completely lost.
Ptolemy’s Legacy
While many of Ptolemy’s theories and ideas have been updated, his contributions cannot be understated. For instance, in Geographia, he acknowledged a spherical world and offered coordinates for over 6,000 places in the ancient world.
Unlike many other scholars, Ptolemy divided the world into 360 degrees, as well as into minutes and seconds. This could potentially give him credit for the first recorded treatise on geo-positioning.
Ptolemy's map

A 15th-century manuscript copy of the Ptolemy world map, reconstituted from Ptolemy’s Geography (circa AD 150), indicating the countries of “Serica” and “Sinae” (China) at the extreme east, beyond the island of “Taprobane” (Sri Lanka, oversized) and the “Aurea Chersonesus” (Malay Peninsula).

Of course, he did make a few mistakes. For instance, he exaggerated the length of the Mediterranean by about 30% and he ended his world in the middle of China. However, this can be forgiven as he only worked with astronomical observations without any sophisticated equipment.
Ptolemy’s works were later studied by Asian and Arabian cultures and as such, have survived until this very day. With them we are able to see and reflect on our path and evolution as humankind… as well as learn a little bit about our universe.