And now, a beast fiercer than Godzilla, more terrifying than Jaws — ladies and gents, I give you … Claws.
But you can’t see that monster in theaters or streaming online. You’ll have to stay up until 10 p.m. or so to see Claws hovering among an odd tableau of constellations in the south.
Low in the southeast is Scorpius, the giant Scorpion, rising just above the horizon. To the south, just to the beast’s right, you’ll see Libra, the Scales of Balance, otherwise known as Claws.
In the southwest, Virgo, the innocent Virgin, is being chased by the Scorpion and soon will disappear from view below the horizon.
The ancients considered Libra too dim to be a constellation in its own right. It was combined with Scorpius to construct a larger super-monster that made Jaws look like a guppy.
The ancient Greeks called the constellation Chelae, which means Claws. They commonly identified the two brightest stars of Libra as the Scorpion’s claws. They still bear the Arabic names that mark them as such.
Zubeneschamali (pronounced just like it’s spelled — ha), the Northern Claw, is the upper star. Zubenelgenubi, the Southern Claw, is the lower star. (More on the “Zubies” next week.)
Scorpius is one of the nastiest constellations, with its broad head at the top and its deadly stinger curving down and to the left. Add the claws, and you will have one of the sky’s largest and cruelest-looking star groups.
The Sumerians, who lived about 4,000 years ago, called Libra ZI-BA AN-NA — the balance of heaven. The sun is in Libra at the time of the autumnal equinox, around Sept. 22. On that date, the day and night are of equal length, making for a perfectly balanced day.
Later, the Romans also saw Libra as a set of scales. However, the dual nature of the constellation, scales vs. claws, may have been recognized by the Greeks as far back as Homer’s Iliad, around the late 8th or early 7th century BCE.
Homer may have been referring to Libra when he wrote of mighty Zeus,
“… The Eternal Father hung
His golden scales aloft.
On the other hand, neither the 1st-century CE Greek commentator Eratosthenes nor the 1st-century BCE Roman commentator Hyginus mentions the association of Libra with scales. They don’t even treat Libra as a separate constellation, preferring to describe it in their Scorpius descriptions as a set of claws.
Still, by the time of the Roman poet Virgil (1st century BCE), the association with scales and balance was fully established. According to the poet, Lyra’s appearance indicates the proper time for sowing winter grain.
But when Astraea’s balance hung on high
Betwixt the nights and days divide the sky,
Then yoke your oxen, sow your winter grain,
Till cold December comes with driving rain.”
The Romans, who considered themselves a balanced lot, believed that Rome had favored status among the gods. They attributed the city’s high rank to an astrological coincidence. The moon, the goddess Luna, had been traveling through Libra when Romulus and Remus founded Rome.
Additionally, the Romans appreciated the notion of balance implied by the scales. Libra represented the balance and moderation present in Roman society.
Libra’s esteemed constellational rank presented a problem. It is the only sign of the Zodiac that represents an inanimate object. Therefore, it must be the possession of another constellation. Scorpions don’t have a use for scales, so the association had to go.
Luckily, Virgo sits on the other side of Libra. She was sometimes identified as Astraeia, as Virgil does in the passage above, or Dike (pronounced DEE-kay, just as Nike is correctly pronounced NEE-kay).
Dike was the goddess of justice, who was so eminent that she sat at the right hand of the head god, Jupiter. We see her today as blindfolded justice with her scales raised high, holding the rule of law in the balance.
What were the Romans trying to tell us?
The evil scorpion sometimes seems to rule for a time, but eventually, the rules of justice and the impulse of our common humanity will triumph.
Let us fervently hope that, eventually, we will come to say, as the Romans seemed to say so long ago, “Malevolent scorpion, where is your sting? Sweet justice has stolen your claws.”
Tom Burns is the former director of the Perkins Observatory in Delaware.
