by Isaac Asimov
As you see, seven of the constellations represent ani mals. An eighth, Sagittarius, is usually drawn as a centaur, which may be considered an animal, I suppose. Then, if we remember that human beings are part of the animal kingdom, the only strictly nonanimal constellation is Libra.
The Greeks consequently called this band of constellations o zodiakos kyklos or "the circle of little animals," and this has come down to us as the Zodiac.
In fact, in the sky as a whole, modem astronomers recognize 88 constellations. Of these 30 (most of them constellations of the southern skies' invented by modems) represent inaniinate objects. Of the remaining 58, mostly ancient, 36 represent mammals (including 14 human beings), 9 represent birds,, 6 represent reptiles, 4 represent fish, and 3 represent arthropods. Quite a heavenly zoo!
Odd, though, considering that most of the constellations were invented by an agricultural society, that not one represents a member of the plant kingdom. Or can,that be used to argue that the early star-gazers were herdsmen and not farmers?
The line of the ecliptic is set at an angle of 231/2 ' to the celestial equator (see Chapter 3) since, as is usually stated, the Earth's axis is tipped 23V2'.
At two points, then, the ecliptic crosses the celestial equator and those two crossing points are the "equinoxes" ("equal nights"). When the Sun is at those crossing points, it shines directly over the equator and days and nights are equal (twelve hours each) the world over. Hence, the name.
One of the equinoxes is reached when the Sun, in its path along the ecliptic, moves from the southern celestial hemisphere into the northern. It is rising higher in the sky (to us in the Northern Hemisphere) and spring is on its way. That, therefore, is the "vernal equinox," and it is on March 20.
On that day (at least in ancient Greek times) the Sun entered the constellation of Aries. Since the vernal equinox is a good time to begin the year for any agricultural society, it is customary to begin the list of the constellations of the Zodiac, as I did, with Aries.
The Sun stays about one month 'm each constellation, so it is in Aries from March 20 to April 19, in Taurus from April 20 to May 20, and so on (at least that was the lineup in Greek times).
As the Sun continues to move along the ecliptic after the vernal equinox, it moves farther and farther north of the celestial equator, rising higher and higher in our northern skies. Finally, halfway between the two equinoxes, on June 21, it reaches the point of maximum separation between ecliptic and celestial equator. Momentarily it "stands stiff" in its north-soufh rdotion, then "turns" and begins (it appears to us) to travel south again. This is the time of the "summer solstice," where "solstice" is from the Latin meaning "sun stand-still."
At that time the position of the Sun is a full 231/2' north of the celestial equator and it is entering the con stellation of Cancer. Consequently the line of 231/2' north latitude on Earth, the line over which the Sun is shining on June 20, is the "Tropic of Cancer." ("Tropic" is from a Greek word meaning "to turn.")
On September 23, the Sun has reached the "autumnal equinox" as it enters the constellation of Libra. It then moves south of the celestial equator, reaching the point of maximum southerliness on December 21, when it enters the constellation of Capricorn. This is the "winter solstice," and the line of 231/2 ' south latitude on the Earth is (you guessed it) the "Tropic of Capricorn."
Here is a complication! The Earth's axis "wobbles."
If the line of the axis were extended to the celestial sphere, each pole would draw a slow circle, 47' in diameter, as it moved. The position of the celestial equator depends on the tilt of the axis and so the celestial equator moves bodily against the background of the stars from east to west in a direction parallel to the ecliptic. The position of the equi noxes (the intersection of the moving celestial equator with the unmoving ecliptic) travels westward to meet the Sun.
The equinox completes a circuit about the ecliptic in 25,760 years, which means that in 1 year the vernal equinox moves 360/25,760 or 0.014 degrees. The, Sun, in making its west-to-east circuit, comes to the vernal equinox which is 0.014 degrees west of its position at the last crossing. The Sun must travel that additional 0.014 degrees to make a truly complete circuit with respect to the stars. It takes 20 minutes of motion to cover that additional 0.014 degrees. Because the equinox precedes itself and is reached 20 minutes ahead of schedule each year, this motion of the Earth's axis is called "the pre cession of the equinoxes."
Because of the precession of the equinoxes, the vernal equinox moves one full constellation of the Zodiac every 2150 years. In the time of the Pyramid builders, the Sun entered Taurus at the time of the vernal equinox. In the time of the Greeks, it entered Aries. In modem times, it enters Pisces. In A.D. 4000 it will enter Aquarius.
The complete circle made by the Sun with respect to the stars takes 365 days, 6 hours, 9 minutes, 10 seconds. This is the "sidereal year." The complete circle from equinox to equinox takes 20 minutes less; 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, 45 seconds. This is the "tropical year," because it also measures the time required for the Sun to move from tropic to tropic and back again.
It is the tropical year and not the sidereal year that governs our seasons, so it is the tropical year we mean when we speak of the year.
The scholars of -ancient times noted that the position of the Sun in the Zodiac had a profound effect on the Earth.
Whenever it was in Leo, for instance, the Sun shone with a lion's strength and it was invariably hot; when it was in Aquarius, the water-carrier usually tipped his um so that there was much snow. Furthermore, eclipses were clearly meant to indicate catastrophe, since catastrophe always followed eclipses. (Catastrophes also always followed lack of eclipses but no one paid attention to that.)
Naturally, scholars sought for other effects and found them in the movement of the five bright star-like objects, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. These, like the Sun and Moon, moved against the starry background and all were therefore called "planctes" ("wanderers") by the Greeks. We call them "planets."
The five star-like planets circle the Sun as the Earth does and the planes of their orbits are tipped only slightly to that of the Earth. Thir% means they seem to move in the ecliptic, as the Sun and Moon do, progressing through the constellations of the Zodiac.
Their motions, unlike those of the Sun and the Moon, are quite complicated. Because of the motion of the Earth, the tracks made by the star-like planets form loops now and then. This made it possible for the Greeks to have five centuries of fun working out wrong theories to ac count for those motions.
Still, though the theories might be wrong, they sufficed to work out what the planetary positions were in the past and what they would be in the future. All one had to do was to decide what particular influence was exerted by a particular planet in a particular constellation of the Zodiac; note the positions of all the planets at the time of a person's birth; and everything was set. The decision as to the particular influences presents no problem. You make any decision you care to. The pseudo-science of astrology invents such influences without any visible difficulty. Every astrologer has his own set.
To astrologers, moreover, nothing has happened since the time of the Greeks. The period from March 20 to April 19 is still governed by the "sign of Aries," even though the Sun is in Pisces at that time nowadays, thanks to the precession of the equinoxes. For that reason it is now necessary to distinguish between the "signs of the Zodiac" and the "constellations of the Zodiac." The signs now are what the constellations were two thousand years ago.
I've never heard that this bothered any astrologer in the world.
AU this and more occurred to me some time ago when I was invited to be on a well-known television conversa tion show that was scheduled to deal with the subject of astrology. I was to represent science against the other three members of the panel, all of whom were professional astrologers.
For a moment I felt that I must accept, for surely it was my duty as a rationalist to strike a blow
against folly and superstition. Then other thoughts occurred to me.
The three practitioners would undoubtedly be experts at their own particular line of gobbledygook and could easily speak a gallon of nonsense while I was struggling with a half pint of reason.
Furthermore, astrologers are adept at that line of argu ment that all pseudo-scientists consider "evidence." The line would be something like this, "People born under Leo are leaders of men, because the lion is the king of ,beasts, and the proof is that Napoleon was born under the sign of Leo."
Suppose, then, I were to say, "But one-twelfth of living human beings, amounting to 250,000,000 individuals, were born in Taurus. Have you, or has anybody, ever tried to determine whether the proportion of leaders among them is significantly greater than among non-Leos? And how would you test for leadership, objectively, anyway'.?"
Even if I managed to say all this, I would merely be stared at as a lunatic and, very likely, as, a dangerous sub versive. And the general public, which, in this year of 1968, ardently believes in astrology and supports more astrologers in affluence (I strongly suspect) than existed in all previous centuries combined, would arrange lynching parties.
So as I wavered between the desire to fight for the right, and the suspicion that the right would be massacred and sunk without a trace, I decided to turn to astrology for help. Surely, a bit of astrologic analysis would tell me what was in store for me in any such confrontation.
Since I was born on January 2, that placed me under the, sign of Capricornus-the goat.
That did it! Politel but very firmly, I refused to be on the program!
5. Roll Call
When all the world was young (and I was a teen-ager), one way to give a science fiction story a good title was to make use of the name of some heavenly body. Among my own first few science fiction stories, for instance, were such items as "Marooned off Vesta," "Christmas on Ganymede," and "The Callistan Menace." (Real swino,,inc, titles, man!)
This has gone out of fashion, alas, but the fact remains that in the 1930's, a whole generation of science fiction fans grew up with the names of the bodies of the Solar System as familiar to them as the names of the American states. Ten to one they didn't know why the names were what they were, or how they came to be applied to the bodies of the Solar System or even, in some cases, bow they were pronounced-but who cared? When a tentacled monster came from Umbriel or lo, how much more im pressive that was than if it had merely come from Pbila delphia.
But ignorance must be battled. Let us, therefore, take up the matter of the names, call the roll of the Solar System in the order (more or less) in which the names were applied, and see what sense can be made of them.
The Earth itself should come first, I suppose. Earth is an old Teutonic word, but it is one of the glories of the English language that we always turn to the classic tongues as well. The Greek word for Earth was Gaia or, in Latin spelling, Gaea. This gives us "geography" ("earth-writing"), "geology" ("earth-discourse"), "geom etry" ("earth-measure"), and so on.
The Latin word is Terra. In science fiction stories a human being from Earth may be an "Earthl;ng" or an "Earthman," but he is frequently a "Terrestrial," while a creature from another world is almost invariably an "extra Terrestrial."
The Romans also referred to the Earth as Tellus Mater ("Mother Earth" is what it means). The genitive form of tellus is telluris, so Earthmen are occasionally referred to in s.f. stories as "TeHurians." There is also a chemical element "tellurium," named in honor of this version of the name of our planet.
But putting Earth to one side, the first two heavenly bodies to have been noticed were, undoubtedly and obvi ously, the Sun and the Moon, which, like Earth, are old Teutonic words.
To the Greeks the Sun was Helios, and to the Romans it was Sol. For ourselves, Helios is almost gone, although we have "helium" as the name of an element originally found in the Sun, "heliotrope" ("sun-turn") for the sun flower, and so on.
Sol persists better. The common adjective derived from sun" may be "sunny," but the scholarly one is "solar."
We may speak of a sunny day and a sunny disposition, but never of the "Sunny System." It is always the "Solar System." In science fiction, the Sun is often spoken of as Sol, and the Earth may even be referred to as "Sol Ill."
The Greek word for the Moon is Selene, and the Latin word is Luna. The first lingers on in the name of the chemical element "selenium," which was named for the Moon. And the study of the Moon's surface features may be called "selenography." The Latin name appears -m the common adjective, however, so that one speaks of a "lunar crescent" or a "lunar eclipse." Also, because of the theory that exposure to the li ht of the full Moon drove men crazy ("moon-struck"), we obtained the word "lunatic."
I have a theory that the notion of naming the heavenly bodies after mythological characters did not originate with the Greeks, but that it was a deliberate piece of copy cattishness. . To be sure, one speaks of Helios as the god of the Sun and Gaea as the goddess of the Earth, but it seems obvi ous to me that the words came first, to express the physical objects, and that these were personified into gods and goddesses later on.
The later Greeks did, in fact, feel this lack of mytho logical character and tried to make Apollo the god of the Sun and Artemis (Diana to the Romans) the goddess of the Moon. This may have taken hold of the Greek scholars but not of the ordinary folk, for whom Sun and Moon remained Helios and Selene. (Nevertheless, the in fluence of this Greek attempt on later scholars was such that no other impo rtant heavenly body was named for Apollo and Artemis.)
I would like to clinch this theory of mine, now, by taking up another heavenly body.
After the Sun and Moon, the next bodies to be recog nized as important individual entities must surely have been the five bright "stars" whose positions with respect to the real stars were not fixed and which therefore, along with the Sun and the Moon, were called planets (see Chapter 4).
The brightest of these "stars" is the one we call Venus, and it must have been the first one noticed-but not necessarily as an individual. Venus sometimes appears in the evening after sunset, and sometimes in the morning before sunrise, depending on which part of its orbit it happens to occupy. It is therefore the "Evening Star" some times and the "Morning Star" at other times. To the early Greeks, these seemed two separate objects and each was given a name.
The Evening Star, which always appeared in the west near the setting Sun, was named Hesperos ("evening" or 44 west"). The equivalent Latin name was Vesper. The Morning Star was named Phosphoros ("light-bringee'), for when the Morning Star appeared the Sun and its light were not far behind. (The chemical element "phosphorus" - Latin spelling-was so named because it glowed in the dark as the result of slow combination with oxygen.) The Latin name for the Morning Star was Lucifer. which also means "light-bringer."
Now notice that the Greeks made no use of mythology here. Their words for the Evening Star and Morning Star were logical, descriptive words. But then (during the sixth century B.c.) the Greek scholar, Pythagoras of Samos, arrived back in the Greek world after his travels in Babylonia. He brought with him a skullfull of Babylonian notions.
At the time, Babylonian astronomy was well developed and far in advance of the Greek bare beginnings. The Babylonian interest in astronomy was chiefly astrological in nature and so it seemed natural for them to equate the powerful planets with the powerful gods. (Since both had power over human beings, why not?) The Babylonians knew that the Evening Star and the Morning Star were a single planet-after all, they never appeared on the same day; if one was present, the other was absent, and it was clear from their movements that the Morning Star passed the Sun and became the Evening Star and vice versa. Since the planet representing both was so bright and beautiful, the Babylonians very logically felt it ap propriate to equate it with Ishtar, their goddess of beauty and love.
Pythagoras brought back to Greece this Babylonian knowledge of the oneness of the Evening and Morning Star, and Hesperos
and Phosphoros vanished from the heavens.
Instead, the Babylonian system was copied and the planet was named for the Greek goddess of beauty and love, Aphrodite. To the Romans this was their corresponding goddess Yenus, and so it is to us.
Thus, the habit of naming heavenly bodies for gods and goddesses was, it seems to me, deliberately copied from the Babylonians (and their predecessors) by the Greeks.
The name "Venus," by the way, represents a problem.
Adjectives from these classical words have to be taken from the genitive case and the genitive form of "Venus" is Veneris. (Hence, "venerable" for anything worth the respect paid by the Romans to the goddess; and because the Romans respected old age, "venerable" came to be applied to old men rather than young women.)
So we cannot speak of "Venusian atmosphere" or "Venutian atmosphere" as science fiction writers some times do. We must say "Venerian atmosphere." Un fortunately, this has uncomfortable associations and it is not used. We might turn back to the Greek name but the genitive form there is Aphrodisiakos, and if we speak of the "Aphrodisiac atmosphere" I think we will give a false impression.
But something must be done. We are actually exploring the atmosphere of Venus with space probes and some adjective is needed. Fortunately, there is a way out. The Venus cult was very prominent in early days in a small island south of Greece. It was called Kythera (Cythera in Latin spelling) so that Aphrodite was referred to, poetically, as the "Cytherean go'ddess." Our poetic astron omers have therefore taken to speaking of the "Cytherean atmosphere."
The other four planets present no problem. The second brightest planet is truly the king planet. Venus may be brighter but it is confined to the near neighborhood of the Sun and is never seen at midnight. The second brightest, however, can shine through all the hours of night and so it should fittingly be named for the chief god. The Babi lonians accordingly named it "Marduk." The Greeks followed suit and called it "Zeus," and the Romans named it Jupiter. The genitive form of Jupiter is fovis, so that we speak of the "Jovian satellites." A person bom under the astrological influence of Jupiter is "jovial."