We’ve spoken often of how the constellations are culturally ‘sticky’.
But ‘sticky’ is not ‘immutable’.
The introduction of the Greek stars around the 14th century BCE was a rare event, a full remaking of the sky, tied to a broad cultural upheaval in the AEgean.
But the record shows that, over time, many of the Greek constellations were tied to different stories, different names. The figures were reimagined, but not redrawn – the stars remained the same.
If you’re interested in the history of the northern constellations, the Poetic Astronomy of Hyginus is an invaluable resource (see LINK to Reading Room – post copy of Grant’s work? LINK to theoi.com.) Here, Hyginus provides an accounting of stories tied to the constellations. For most figures, there’s more than one story, more than one identity attached; for some, it’s one figure, one story, end of discussion. There’s a lot to be learned from Hyginus’ catalog, but one detail which struck us was that the Romans wanted to put Hercules in the sky, but had a hard time finding a place for him. This difficulty is strong evidence that the stars had been defined long before the rise of Rome, and solid proof that the constellations are culturally sticky.
Herakles was originally a Greek hero; from a modern perspective,
you might say he was an Iron Age re-boot of Bronze Age Perseus.
By lineage, Herakles was both great-grandson and half-brother to Perseus (do the math).
The earliest of his adventures – the Nemean Lion, the Lernean Hydra – took place in the Argolid,
not far from Mycenae. Draw a map of his twelve labors, and you get a picture of a herowhose renown spread from the Argolid out across all of Greece and the Mediterranean.
Herakles was later embraced by Rome, who pronounced him Hercules, and invented further stories of his adventures in most every province of the Empire. No longer just a hero of the Greeks, Hercules was an icon of the empire, the archetypal comic-book superhero.
Perseus is prominent among the Greek constellations,
which we argue were shaped in the Mycenaean era;
as great-grandson to Perseus, Herakles was late to the sky.
All the stars were occupied long before the Nemean lion, the Lernean hydra,
or the stables of Augeias tested the strength and wiles of Herakles.
In later centuries, Roman interest in Hercules was obsessive,
and there were several campaigns to refigure the stars, to find a spot for Hercules.
Hyginus cites several constellations which had been identified with Hercules, including Ophiuchus (citing a little-known story of Hercules fighting a big snake out in Libya or thereabouts)
and Gemini (where he’s paired with his half-brother Apollo; the astrologers did not approve).
It seems that the Romans really wanted Hercules in the sky,
but it took a few tries before he found a spot.
The fact that it was difficult to place Hercules in the sky
demonstrates the stickiness of the constellations.
In the end, the fans of Hercules had to settle for an undignified corner of the sky
The constellation cited as Hercules today
was known to the Greeks as Engonansin – the kneeling man.
Hyginus lists several characters tied to these stars, most of them quite un-heroic,
each one upside down and on his knees in the sky.
Whatever the story, the stars remain the same
(Several other figures of the Greek summer sky were
associated with stories of punishment, dismemberment, and death.
Ophiuchus is afflicted by a great serpent wrapped about his waist,
while a story tied to the figure Boötes has the protaganist torn limb from limb by a frenzied mob.
There’s some bad juju tied to the summer sky.)
Perhaps because of these negative connotations,
there was little opposition to renaming these stars as Hercules.
Even so, the stars are the stars, so the Romans had to devise a story
to explain why this greatest of heroes was on his knees.
Hyginus cites three different stories to explain why Hercules is on his knees;
to our eye and ear, two of them fit the stars, and one of them fits the stage.
Whatever the details, it’s clear the Romans really, really wanted Hercules in the sky.
They succeeded, demonstrating that it is possible to rename a constellation.
But their success reminds us that the constellations are culturally sticky.