Starry nights are ever rarer sights. Light pollution prevents millions of people from seeing the night sky. But that’s a recent issue. Throughout history, humans have always enjoyed unobstructed access to the luminous cosmos.
What did starry nights mean to ancient societies? And why does it matter that they’re increasingly absent from our lives?
A Chariot and the Milky Way
Everyone knows the Milky Way. But not everyone may know that its name comes from ancient Greek. “Gala,” which gives us “galaxy,” means “milk.” One Greek myth describes the Milky Way as the product of divine wrath. To gain immortal wisdom, the infant and soon-to-be hero Heracles nursed from the goddess Hera, wife of the omnipotent Zeus. When Hera realized that Heracles was Zeus’s illegitimate son, she thrust the baby away and smeared milk across the heavens, giving the galaxy its name.
"The Origin of the Milky Way," 1575, by Jacopo Tintoretto. Oil on canvas; 58 4/5 inches by 66 1/8 inches. National Gallery, London. Public Domain
The Greek historian Diodorus Siculus (circa 80 B.C. to 20 B.C.) recorded another popular myth, which attributes the creation of the Milky Way to Phaethon, son of Apollo, the god of light. Phaethon longed to drive his father’s golden chariot. Apollo forbade him, but he agreed to bring Phaethon along on his various journeys. One day, Phaethon woke before dawn, hitched Apollo’s four horses to the chariot, and set out toward the heavens. At first, the horses thought it was Apollo. When Phaethon’s rash maneuvers revealed the charioteer’s true identity, the horses broke their line and began galloping frantically. No one but Apollo could rein them under control.
The chariot started dashing back and forth across the cosmos. Sometimes, it swerved toward the Earth, stirring storms and parching lands. At other times, it neared the dome of heaven, scorching it repeatedly with its headlong speed. Fearing that Phaethon’s mad flight would burn the gods’ sacred abode on Mount Olympus, Zeus struck him with a thunderbolt. Although Olympus remained intact, Phaethon’s frenzy changed the skies forever: He had set ablaze the heavens, igniting the stars of the Milky Way.
The Cowherd and the Weaver
The Greeks were by no means the only ones who believed that the Milky Way was a divine creation. In Chinese folklore, the Milky Way is sometimes thought of as a wide river that separates Altair and Vega, two lovers associated with two stars in the northern celestial hemisphere. The earliest written reference to “The Cowherd and the Weaver” is in the “Book of Odes,” written about 3,000 years ago. The story has been so popular since its inception that it was selected as one of four Great Folktales by China’s “Folklore Movement” in the 1920s.One version tells of a young cowherd named Niulang (Altair) who stumbled upon seven fairy sisters bathing in a lake. The Goddess of Heaven had tasked the sisters with weaving colorful clouds. Struck by their beauty, Niulang stole the clothes that they had left onshore. He said he would return them only if one of the sisters married him. Zhinu (Vega) was the youngest and most beautiful of the sisters. She agreed to marry Niulang, with whom she had two children.
A page from the "Book of Odes," 1736-1795, by the Qianlong Emperor. The book has had several names, but it contains the same poetry. National Palace Museum, Taipei, Taiwan. Public Domain
When the Goddess of Heaven found out that Zhinu had married a mortal, she became furious. Zhinu had been neglecting her weaving duty to spend time with Niulang on Earth. The goddess forced her to abandon the mortal realm and return to heaven. Niulang was distraught at Zhinu’s disappearance. He decided to take his two children to heaven and find his wife. But this time, the goddess had had enough. She took one of her hairpins and etched a wide river in the sky to separate the lovers once and for all. The Milky Way was born from her mark.
The goddess ordered Zhinu to sit on one side of the river, where she has been weaving on her loom while sadly wishing to be reunited with her husband. The mortal Niulang was forced to watch heaven from afar with their two children, represented by the two stars by his side.
Although Zhinu and Niulang were forced to part forever, they were given recurring chances to see each other. Once a year, magpies are said to take pity on the star-crossed lovers, flying into heaven to form Que Qiao, “the bridge of magpies,” which links Zhinu and Niulang on the seventh night of the seventh lunar month.
In the 11th century, Qin Guan, a poet of the Song dynasty, paid homage to the lovers’ reunion with these verses:
One meeting of the Cowherd and Weaver amidst the golden autumn wind and jade-glistening dew, eclipses the countless meetings in the mundane world. The feelings soft as water, the ecstatic moment unreal as a dream, how can one have the heart to go back on the bridge made of magpies? If the two hearts are united forever, why do the two persons need to stay together—day after day, night after night?
The artwork on the wall of the long corridor of the Beijing Summer Palace depicts the reunion of Niulang, Zhinu, and their children. Public Domain
Sacred Stars and Starry Nights
Stories such as “Phaethon and Apollo” and “The Cowherd and the Weaver” illustrate why stars are essential to human societies. Whether they’re told to children around a fireplace, recited by poets, recorded by scribes and historians, or enacted at popular festivals, myths such as these connect us to the cosmos. They offer chances to recognize ourselves in the characters and learn moral lessons as well.
Mexico City showing skyglow on a 2005 night. Fernando Tomás/CC BY 2.0
Phaethon embodies the pitfalls of pride, which the Greeks deemed one of the worst moral trespasses. And Niulang exemplifies the price that mortals pay when they dare to defy the gods by desiring what doesn’t belong to them. Today, his reunion with Zhinu is celebrated every August at the Qiqiao Festival, where people gather to savor traditional foods and cherish conjugal happiness, hope, and faithfulness.
Light pollution severs people from the source of such powerful myths. In the 21st century alone, the night sky has been growing brighter worldwide. Two notable exceptions include Tucson, Arizona, and parts of northern Italy, which have both enforced regulations to prevent excessive light pollution. But for tens of millions of people each year, stars are increasingly dim.
By reducing our ability to connect with the cosmos, we efface the cultural heritage that it represents. The stars aren’t just material bodies in an empty universe. They’re the sources of myths, ideas, and moral teachings that remind us about our place under heaven’s dome. They bring people together, inspire the imagination, and imbue the world with sacred symbols, kindling hope and beauty against the dark.
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