Stars and their Catalogues

Throughout the ages, man has endeavoured to catalogue all that they see in the night sky. Until relatively recently, however, we were broadly incapable of maintaining an accurate record of all of the stars visible to the naked eye – they may be too faint, or too difficult to distinguish from another star nearby; they may become confused with other stars as they cross the sky. To the ancient astronomer, then, a catalogue was necessary in order to judge which star was which.

If you have some familiarity with astronomy, you may know of the Messier catalogue of 1771, which was compiled by Charles Messier in order to remove objects from the sky. Messier was a comet hunter, and discovered that many celestial objects had the appearance comets at certain times of year, and his list of 45 objects that were not comets (which he later expanded to 103) became the pattern for European star catalogues. In ancient Babylon, however, there was an equally impressive catalogue.

The MUL.APIN is a Babylonian record, containing detailed information about 71 stars and constellations in extraordinary detail. This record includes all of our modern zodiacal constellations, as well as expansive information regarding the Sun, Moon and other planets’ positions within them, not to mention enormous additional information that would bewilder the common man.

While this is obviously of interest to astronomers – being able to see the origins of their art centuries before the birth of Christ – it is also of great interest to historians, who, knowing the predilection for mapping of the stars, can rely upon such accurate records to determine the dates of other events.

For instance, a partially complete Babylonian star chart (copied from a much older record) noted a remarkable event proposed to be an asteroid impact or a near-Earth comet, and was able to provide sufficient information to provide a precise date of the 29^th of June, 3123BC. Further, it has been argued that there is sufficient information to calculate the actual trajectory of the object itself!

A Triad of Note

Although it has been established that it is unlikely the ancient peoples used pyramids to deliberately map the night sky, that is not to say that pyramids did not take some cues from the stars themselves. As I have explained previously, many pyramids appear to have been designed to react to natural phenomena, such as the equinox, and as such it is not unreasonable to assume that similarly simple connections might be found.

As Richard Hansen eloquently explains, the Maya pre-classic era was filled with the construction of ‘triadic pyramids’. These structures – in which a single basal plate provides the foundations for three distinct pyramids (a large central pyramid flanked by two smaller ones) – are often postulated to mimic triple-star constellations, such as Orion’s belt. It is interesting to note that, for the Maya, the precise positions of the monuments do not appear to be of any significance, nor their relative sizes. Rather, the significance is all in the number; their relationship is indicated by the shared base and the central plaza to which all are connected by stairs.

Thus, it appears that the Maya, while interested in charting the stars and predicting portentous events, were not so obsessed as to attempt to create a literal map of the stars that would have been beyond the appreciation of the common people. These triadic complexes would instead serve as focal points of religious gatherings and symbolism, drawing the people to the plaza from which they could watch one or all of the observances conducted at the temples atop the pyramids.

It is of interest to note that these triadic complexes were not constructed outside the pre-classic era (2000BC-200AD), leading one to question what it was that made them so terribly important for over two thousand years, only to fade out of significance when the power of the Mayan city states was at its zenith.

Stars and Man in Ancient Egypt

The foundation of astronomical observation is one that remained unchanged in its fundamental method for many thousands of years. From the ancient observatories found in Persia, through the literature of such notables as Hipparchos, and the operation of the El Caracol observatory I wrote about several weeks ago, through to the more portable astrolabe and sextant, it becomes apparent that measuring the positions of the Sun, Moon and stars relied upon the ability to draw a line through a fixed point, similar in manner to the gnomon (or sundial).

In Ancient Egypt, however, the role of the astronomer fell so much into divination that a lifeless device was of use only in a scientific capacity. The astrologer (not to be confused with an astronomer, although they were one and the same in most cultures for many centuries) would instead make the subject of their divination their gnomon. This is not so different from modern horoscopes, in which the constellation relating to the date of your birth is considered to have some power, but is rather more personalised.

This image shows the basic workings of the Egyptian method, as transcribed from the tomb of Rameses VI. In essence, the subject sits in front of the astrologer who uses a plumb line to ensure the subject’s correct orientation according to the appropriate stars. Following that, the relative positions of other stars would inform the astrologer as to the predictions they could make about the subject.

This desire to relate the stars to the people below was not original, even then, but the use of the human form to derive the information desired shows an approach beautifully human in its simplicity.

The Poetry of Pyramids

As I mentioned in my opening blog, there is the theory that pyramids (and other monuments, including the famous Nazca Lines) were designed to operate as reflections of the stars. This Orion Correlation Theory has developed particularly vehement lines of attack from both sides, and it is, in truth, not an argument I wish to indulge in. What I do wish to discuss, is the poetry of this theory.

Pyramids have always been monuments that make humans stand in awe – whether the commonly envisaged pyramids of Giza, the magnificently stepped pyramids of pre-Columbian America, the fabulously steep Nubian pyramids, or any other structure commonly named so. These are the symbols of a culture’s might and ingenuity, achieving marvels of engineering and transporting vast masses of carefully-hewn stone into position, and remaining in place for thousands of years (and which of our modern structures, using the finest of our materials and our miraculous science, can be expected to last even half as long?).

As physical symbols, pyramids are granted their power by their form. The visible heft of the structure – its simple mass – combined with the lines that draw the eyes skyward, insist upon respect and reverence. Taking Giza as an example, recall that as you look upon the three great pyramids, you are seeing the most profound feat of engineering in ancient Egypt – and also the most profound statement of their spirituality and culture.

As astrological or astronomical symbols, it becomes less important to look for complexity where simplicity finds beauty. Look upon almost any pyramid in the world, and you will discover that they almost invariably face something. The pyramids of Giza face the cardinal points; the Aztec pyramids of Tenochtitlan face the Sun and the Moon at different times of year. Imagine, then, the vision of those living in that culture, at that time, witnessing the rising or the setting sun, watching a great shadow blanket the world before them, and remembering that this – this moment – is the very definition of what it is to be one of your people.