Due Sep 23
The Copernican Revolution
Copernicus’ Model; Brahe’s Observations. Shakespeare’s s. Writing in the Arts: stylistic analysis of theater playbill essays.
Astronomy Reading
- Openstax Astronomy (pdf | online), re-read Chapter 2.4.
- MacTutor, “Biography of Copernicus.”
- Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, “Biography of Copernicus.”
Fieldwork
Data collection for the Autumnal Equinox fieldwork assignment (linked at right) on 9/22—or shortly thereafter, if prevented by overcast conditions.
Arts Assignment: Renaissance Astrology
Copernicus circulated his heliocentric theory as early as 1514, but he didn’t publish it until 1543. What’s more, while his account revolutionized how Europeans conceptualized the heavens, it took over a century for his views to be widely embraced, even among intellectuals. As a sample of educated mainstream thinking in the period leading up to the publication of Copernicus’ model, I’d like you to examine the “Seven Planets,” a 1531 woodcut series by German artist Georg Pencz. (This British Museum page features just the Moon, Mars and Venus, but has an excellent curator’s note. If you’re curious to see Pencz’s woodcuts for the other four “planets”—the Sun, Jupiter, Saturn, and Mercury—Google Image is your friend.)
Taking the “Curator’s Comments” on the British Museum website as your starting point and focusing on a particular detail of one or more of Pencz’s astrological woodcuts, write a 1-¶ appreciation of the cosmological belief-system expressed herein. The most successful pieces will tie together specific visual details in a way that evokes a sensation of wonder and/or deep understanding.
In Class: Shakespeare’s Astrologer
We will discuss Shakespeare’s Sonnet 14, “Not from the stars…,” during class. As you may know, this poem is part of a larger sonnet sequence, in which Shakespeare addressed himself as the infatuated lover of a young nobleman, urging his beloved not to waste his youth in pleasure but to have children and so immortalize his beauty. This particular sonnet is of interest for our class because the speaker compares himself to an astronomer, providing a sense of popular beliefs about star-gazers in the 1590s.
I really enjoyed looking at Pencz’s Venus wood panel. The depiction of cupid from above, blindfolded, jusxstapjsed but the myriad of couples so enamored with each other was amusing, and spoke to the cosmological belief-system of love in respect to this piece of art. Pencz depicts Venus slouching over, barely even holding the rope that Cupid is attached to. She seems generally unamused, seemingly uncaring about what is happening below her. However, Pencz is particular to show deep connection between all the couples he draws, whether through eye contact or physical proximity. Further, there are many explicitly sexual interactions in the foreground and background. Pencz seems to be commenting on how random human desire really is, and potentially, that it is all motivated by lust rather than commitment. Rather than some pre-destined love story, Pencz depicts romantic connection as the having no true meaning behind random luck of where the arrows will fall. Venus, the God of love, does not even care where these arrows fall. Whereas humans experience love as being one of the most important emotions, human love is depicted as menial and boring to the Gods. This indicates a separation between human affairs and the Gods, with the Gods representing higher knowledge, as compared to humans’ naivety.
Above the clouds and on the soil, there is an invisible string tying the gods and mortals together. In Georg Pencz’s Seven Planets woodcuts (1531), the heavens are shown as powers that shape everyday life. Specifically, the moon’s association with water shows a connection with fishing and milling, activities which are drawn below the goddess. In the other hand, in Mars, soldiers and weapons fill the earthly scene, tying the theme directly to the god of war. Together with Venus, where couples embrace under her gaze, these images show that each planet is not just a star in the sky but a living force with direct influence over human behavior and events on Earth. Yet, this also means humans are never truly separate from the preordained cosmic order. This contrasts with humanism, which places humans at the center of the universe and emphasizes their ability to shape their own destiny.
As the curator notes, Pencz’s woodcut of Mars draws from the fact that the planet’s name means “god of war.” Therefore, the artwork contains a depiction of a war between soldiers and likely peasants. An interesting inclusion is toward the lower middle part, where one fighter is holding up a shovel or paddle, and the soldier has a sword. With horses and swords, the soldiers look more strong and merciless, especially as one peasant is being dragged on the lower part of the piece. The peasants on the lower left and another two toward the middle right appear to run away, as well as one of the horned cows on the middle right, indicating their weakness and eventual defeat. Coming from the name’s meaning, I appreciate Pencz’s piece’s illustration of how Mars’s red color is associated with blood and war, likely drawing from an actual event of the Peasants’ Revolt of 1525, as well.
The Mars section of the artwork is my favorite. Mars sits above the scene, fully armored, while the humans below him fight with swords and soldiers on horses appear to be preparing for war. It shows the Idea that Mars controls the violence and conflict on earth. What stood out to me is how Mars looks calm and steady in the sky, while the humans below are caught in chaos. It makes it seem like war was not just a human choice but something influenced by the heavens. Pencz uses the crowded, action-filled details on the ground to emphasize how powerful Mars was thought to be in shaping human life.
Pencz’s “Seven Planets” shows a cosmos that closely links celestial beings and humans. In the woodcuts, each God/celestial body is shown in the sky over their domain. Luna (the moon) is shown over fishermen, millers, and farmers. Mars is shown over soldiers, violence, and chaos and Venus is shown over a couple. This woodcut creates a cosmology where divine will controls human affairs. Gods don’t just occupy a celestial body. For example, the chaos of war for the average person in the 16th century would be interpreted as an earthly echo of the divine will of Mars. Every level of human life in this cosmology is a direct reflection of the heavens.
Through reading the curator’s comments and zooming in on particular details in the woodcuts that were pointed out, I enjoyed the specific details and cosmological beliefs that went into each woodcut. Starting with the far left one “Luna,” which relates to the moon, this panel really emphasized the relationship between the moon and the water by depicting a river running through the middle of the art piece. People are fishing and milling as pointed out in the comments, activities that involve some type of body of water. The middle panel, “Mars,” taps into Mars being the god of war by showcasing a fight between peasants and troops. The last panel titled Venus after the goddess of love shows all types of romantic relationships. I appreciate how this specific cosmological belief system values the idea that each god/goddess has control of something in nature or human nature including the water, war, and love. By giving each godly figure its own realm of life to be in control of, it helps people understand and possibly pray to specific gods in times of need or gratitude.
In Pencz’s woodcuts I sense a universe where the stars direct every motion on earth. Mars drives his chariot through stormy clouds as soldiers plunder villages beneath, their flames and panic echoing the god’s restless energy. In another panel Luna sails across the night sky while millers turn their wheels and fishermen haul their nets, each action tied to the moon’s pull on water and time. The repeating borders and continuous flow of clouds join these scenes into a single frieze, as if the heavens and the earth are parts of one vast mechanism. Standing before them, I feel that work, war, and love are not isolated human choices but steps in a grand cosmic rhythm, a pattern written long ago in the movements of the planets.
The representation of each of the planets in Pencz astrological woodcuts offers a different viewpoint than the usual designs of the century. Usually, when artists represented celestial figures, they used to be the central focus of the piece, either represented with ornamented clothing, the ideal body standard of the time or some central event in their mythology. However, in this representation the artist focuses on what they represent, rather than themselves. We are able to see the Moon (personified), Mars, and Venus, but the scenes below them directly represent what they are known for.
I find the woodcut of Venus particularly interesting, as the goddess of Love it represents a scene of continuous courtship. The scene is filled with couples, as the central figure shows, similarly on the right there is also a bath scene with multiple couples embraced. Apart from the couples, there is also music being played by many of the participants, drawing that connection between music and love. Overall the woodcuts demonstrate how each celestial body was believed to have a different character and represent a different aspect of humanity, showing how heavily interlinked both were.
The Seven Planets woodcut is a fascinating piece that illustrates the relationship between the planets, their gods, and human life. Each planet is represented by a section of wood, with the planet’s name inscribed below on the frame and the associated deity shown above. Inside the frame, we see vivid depictions of human activities and events. What strikes me most is how these visual narratives tie the influence of the gods and planets directly to earthly experiences.
For example, Mars, the god of war, is linked with scenes of violence and destruction. The curator’s notes suggest these images may reference the brutal suppression of the Peasants’ Revolt of 1525, where thousands lost their lives. In contrast, Venus is portrayed with couples enjoying one another’s company while musicians fill the city with music—an idyllic scene that reflects her association with love and courtship. These starkly different depictions reveal how people of the time connected cosmic forces to both the chaos of war and the harmony of human affection.
Taken together, these scenes suggest that people in the early 16th century may have believed planetary alignments could trigger divine actions that shaped human events. Whether it was love blossoming under Venus, war breaking out under Mars, or even plentiful fishing under the Moon, the woodcuts capture a worldview where gods, planets, and people were bound together in an intricate cycle of influence. This idea—that the heavens could dictate the rhythm of life on Earth—feels both foreign and deeply human, reminding us how people once made sense of their world.
After reading the curator’s remarks, the woodcut of ‘Mars’ caught my attention as it has been depicted to be violent. It shows soldiers raiding a peasant family, destroying houses and driving off cattle. It also looks like as if Mars was almost at war with itself and looks like it’s causing self-destruction. While talking about ‘Luna’, the illusion of a man climbing out of the sea while surrounded by fish is created as a vision of the moon’s effect on water. It serves as a reminder that most work routines and our survival is dependent on the cosmic world. All these depictions together remind me of how people in the earlier times could not separate human life from planets and projected their desires or difficulties directly onto the sky. Their faith was highly dependent on the cosmic universe.
In Georg Pencz’s Seven Planets (1531), the images of Luna and Venus illustrate how people once believed the planets guided their everyday lives. In Luna, the people fish and grind grain below while the moon rides above, tying her power to water and the basic work of survival. In Venus, the goddess of love, looks down on couples enjoying music and romance, connecting her influence to beauty and desire. These two images paint a picture of a world in which the planets and stars were not far away or abstract; rather, they influenced both the pleasures of love and the needs of life, giving the skies a sense of intimacy and significance in day-to-day existence. Looking at them makes it easy to feel the magnificent idea that every harvest, every kiss, and every song were impacted by forces written into the sky. It reminds us how the Renaissance imagination linked the cosmos and the human into a single magical order.
What amazes me about Pencz’s woodcuts is how they show a world where heaven and earth perfectly match each other. In the Moon scene, the goddess holds her crescent moon while riding above a watery landscape that seems made for her: fishermen cast their nets into calm lakes that reflect the same light coming from her chariot, and even the tavern by the water fits naturally into this lunar world of nighttime gathering. Mars rides over battlefields where his war dogs mirror the fighting soldiers below. Saturn eats his children above peasants who are slaughtering pigs, his curved scythe looking just like their farming tools. Everything connects. The landscape itself changes to match each god’s personality, so the Moon goddess gets lakes and gentle hills while Mars gets scenes of conflict. This isn’t just people looking up at distant planets but a living system where the gods are close enough to see human faces and powerful enough to shape the very ground we walk on. The decorative borders around each scene feel like windows into a universe where nothing happens by accident, where every farmer’s tool and every lover’s kiss plays a part in some grand divine story. Looking at these images, I understand why it took over a century for Copernicus’s mechanical universe to take hold. Who would want to trade this intimate cosmos, where gods witness every gesture and every harvest connects to eternal cycles, for the vast emptiness of planets spinning in mathematical silence?
From my perspective, Pencz’s woodcut series, The Seven Planets, depicts various scenarios of the cosmos, featuring different gods and corresponding scenes on Earth. For instance, in the part depicting Lunar, beneath the god, people below neither gaze at the stars nor worship the god; they simply carry out their ordinary tasks and live their ordinary lives. For example, we can see people are fishing, chopping wood, and so on. This seems to suggest that heaven (the cosmos) and the earth are one, and that the cosmos is an integral part of people’s daily lives. This depiction portrays the cosmos as an intimate connection to Earth, with humans and gods existing in a state of harmony. In the Mars part, the atmosphere shifts abruptly. On earth, the war rages, rivers run red with blood, yet the god of war sits atop his chariot, seemingly reveling in the carnage below, depicting the god’s cruelty and indifference to lives. In the Venus part, on the other hand, the gods appear benevolent. Below, the corresponding scene on Earth blossoms with flowers and music. People in the scene live in harmony, love one another, and enjoy their prosperous lives. Overall, these contrasting depictions suggest that the gods above are much like the people below: some are violent, some are peaceful, and some overflow with love. In either case, we can see that Pencz aimed to describe the connection between gods and humans, just as between the cosmos and the earth.
Georg Pencz’s Seven Planets woodcuts show how people in the Renaissance believed in a higher power and that heavens directly affected their life on earth. This is extremely visible through this depiction of Mars, the print shows the god of war sitting above while soldiers are attacking peasants, stealing their cattle, and burning down homes. As the British Museum curator explains, “In ‘Mars’, named after the god of war, a prince’s mercenary troops are seen attacking a peasant family, stealing cattle and burning a village in a brutal scene which contemporaries would have understood as a direct reference to the Peasants’ Revolt of 1525” (British Museum). What may have appeared to us to be historical violence, was viewed as a cosmic force/influence of mars by the 16th century viewers. They saw the god of war governing this conflict on earth. By placing the god of war directly above this scene of destruction, Pencz ties the heaven and earth together, indicating that even terrible events like a war are part of a higher power, and controlled by forces beyond human power. To me, this is slightly disturbing and powerful at the same time because it makes human suffering feel like something guided by the cosmic order rather than just random chance.
British Museum. Luna (The Moon): From the Series The Seven Planets. 1531, by Georg Pencz. The British Museum, http://www.britishmuseum.org/c.....5-0122-296. Accessed 22 Sept. 2025.
The key point I want to focus on is the Luna frame of the artwork. The moon portion focuses on milling and fishing, as denoted by the Curator’s Comments, and this directly reveals the believed cosmological power and importance of the moon in Pre-Copernican culture. As we have learned in class, artifacts, like the Nebra sky disk, dating back to ancient times have used the moon in tandem with agriculture. This artwork echoes this belief, as food production both in fishing and agriculture are conducted within the image labeled “Luna”. Logically, this shows that European cosmological views in the mid 16th century pre-Copernican values held the moon in a position of supreme importance. Food is a cornerstone to any civilization and vital for life, so the recognition and assignment of food to the moon reveals the both artistic wonder and practical reliance of European people on the Moon at the time of the drawing.
Pencz’s 1531 woodwork, “The Seven Planets”, gives modern viewers a fascinating insight into the cosmological beliefs of people from that time in Renaissance Europe, before the Copernican and Galilean revolution in our understanding of the universe with a heliocentric solar system. Out of all of the woodworks, the one depicting Luna, or the Moon, would still be rather relevant today, since it’s the only heavenly body where our understanding of its position relative to the Earth hasn’t changed. Back then, the Moon was thought to revolve around the Earth, and it’s the only celestial object in this series where the relationship has remained the same. Even back then, the Moon was unique – it had a periodicity that could be relied upon – the Moon waxed and waned on a regular schedule, one that could easily be used to measure normal extended activities in a human life cycle. As the Moon influences the tides, it is not surprising that people back then also understood this principle: the woodwork with Luna is filled with imagery related to water – the waves on the sea in the background and the river in the foreground, both which have a direct relationship with the Moon. During the right time of the lunar cycle, the tide might be perfect for netting and fishing, as depicted in the foreground, or for sailing, as depicted in the ship in the background. Furthermore, the regularity of the Moon gives humans a way to order life: the neat rows of the farmland in the background, the well-ordered rings hung by the house, the straight, well-ordered and “naturally” unlikely cogs of the impossibly perfectly circular wheel all show us that this reliability can be counted on to give order to human life. In contrast, the small bit of wild forest in the background to the right shows viewers what remains (and what life was like before human order and understanding). A wild, disorderly, dense forest that cannot be seen through. The regularity of the Moon gives humans a way to mark time reliably, and to do things like farm and fish at the right time, to make life better and reduce the wild and uncertain in life.
When observing the “Seven Plants”, the panel focusing on Luna stood out to me the most. The design is very intricate and brings a lot of things to life within it. In the curator’s note, the curator mentions how the moon has been associated with water. This association is in fact true still toady as we see that the tide is affected by the moon phases. While this is important information, this is not what the artifact is focusing on. In the artifact, we see how the early civilizations saw the moon, the gods, and the world.
We see that the early civilizations had connected the plants (and namely gods as the names of planets) to how the world works and actions of it. The curator mentions how Luna resides over water as the goddess of the moon. In the depiction, the viewer can clearly see how that is being portrayed through the actions of the fishers and other professions depicted.
The woodcut I chose to look at more closely was the one labeled with Venus. The curator’s comments provide background information that it is named after the goddess of love, who controlled all aspects of courtship. The goddess herself is sitting on a chariot drawn by doves, and the world below seems to emit the feeling of harmony and desire. These are manifested through images of couples embracing, individuals playing music, and the lush setting. Tied into cosmology, this shows us how civilizations of the past connected the planet Venus with beauty and intimacy. The doves pulling the chariot presumably have another meaning of intimacy, which visually rhymes with the setting and paired lovers below, creating a bond between the heavens and earth.
In Georg Pencz’s Seven Planets woodcuts, you can really see how people in the Renaissance imagined the connection between the heavens and everyday life. In the Moon print, for instance, the goddess Diana drives her chariot across the sky, while below her, regular people go about their daily routines like fishermen casting nets, women working, others talking or resting. The idea is that the Moon’s power influences all of these ordinary activities, no matter how small. By stacking these scenes together, Pencz shows a world where the stars weren’t just far-off lights but active forces shaping how people lived. It’s a reminder that, back then, to live on earth meant living under the constant pull of the heavens. 1) The illustration in the middle depicts Mars, in the Roman pantheon, was the god of war, symbolizing military power and strength. He was a highly revered deity, second only to Jupiter in importance. The Romans viewed Mars as a defender of their city and an honorable figure, unlike the chaotic and violent Greek god of war, Ares. 2) The third illustration shows the planet Venus, which is often associated with the Roman goddess Venus, symbolizing love, beauty, and fertility, and its morning and evening star appearances are linked to various mythological figures like the Greek Aphrodite. In astrology, it represents desire, pleasure, and relationship harmony
1. https://study.com/academy/less.....ry%20might.
2. https://www.occult.live/index......0to%20West.
The woodcut series by Georg Penzc depicts celestial bodies’ influence over everday earthly life. In each cut, each god is shown above over their appointed dominion. In ‘Luna’, the Moon has dominion over water, which her power is represented through a bustling riverside scenary of fishermen hauling nets and a mill churning with the current. In ‘Mars’, troops are seen fighting each other, embodying earlthy conflict, tying directly to Mars, the god of war. By contrast, Venus governs love and harmony, which is reflected in landscapes filled with courting couples in the last woodcut. Each scene translates a cosmological principles into vivid human terms, revealing a worldview in which the heavens were not remote abstractions but living forces woven into everyday life.
I really enjoyed looking at Pencz’s work. It is very intricate and has a clear communication of what it is supposed to represent. I believe that our view of the celestial bodies grows as we grow. The piece starts on the right with Luna where the people are wearing no clothes and having basic societies revolving around the water in which the moon is said to have controlled. Then I think with the next step of Mars, the piece has the society in a war, which is what the greek god mars represents, now wearing armor and growing to be large enough to have the society to be more than just harvesting food, but now more conquest. Then the piece ends with Venus, who represents love. This society now has complex buildings and the people in the society now turn to share their passions of the arts with musical instrument and now seem to love each other. I believe for all this that the piece represents the growth of humanity along with our growth of understanding of what is in the sky.
Georg Pencz’s Luna from Seven Planets series 1531 has the moon gddess glides across the sky in the chariot. Below her are fishermen casting nets into a large lake, tying their lives to the celestials rhythms. The compositions combines heavens and earth into one, Luna’s crescent symbolizes the gddess and the tides, explained as why fishing and milling were influenced by her, into one cosmological fabric. The figure out of the water, from Michelangelo’s Battle of Cascina, shows the moon’s power and gravity before it was discovered. This creates a view of the wolrd with humans, the environment, and divine in one, with the night sky being a look into daily life.
In Pencz’s Seven Planets, from 1531, Pencz displays how the heavens are less of an abstract idea and more of a living force that shapes life on earth. We can see how Luna rides her chariot above, while the fishermen down below are casting nets, amongst others figures near the water. These are details believed to be strongly associated with what the moon’s astrological represenation means. Similarly, in Mars, the planet’s warlike power is displayed through the scene of troops, who are burning down villages and terrorizing people. Together, both of these reveal a cosmology where planets are transformed into the fabric of daily life, creating both beauty and destruction inside a universe where symbolism and human fate are one.
Depicted in Pencz’s Seven Planets, a woodcarving from 1531 we see three distinct scenes each with corresponding heavenly scenes. The first panel labeled Luna, depicts fishermen with nets in a river below a Goddess being pulled in a chariot by two women. I believe that Luna, the goddess of the moon, was chosen because the moon directly effects the tide. In the second panel labeled Mars, there are citizens fighting beneath a God in dog drawn carriage. Mars, the god of war, makes the most sense to be accompanying such a violent scene. In the final panel Venus, the Goddess of love, is looking over a festival of some sort. In each of the panels, the scene is accompanied by a god or goddess who best represents the central theme. I can’t determine whether Pencz believed that either the gods are there to witness events related to them or that they caused the events themselves
Looking at Pencz’s Luna woodcut, the moon goddess floating above connects directly to people fishing and grinding grain below, like a cosmic puppet show where celestial beings control human activity. These prints were designed to join together as wall decoration, which makes perfect sense. Just as the moon’s influence doesn’t stop at boundaries, the scenes flow into each other creating a world where divine forces blend into daily life. There’s something comforting about this universe where instead of being specks in indifferent space, people knew a goddess actually cared enough to oversee their fishing and mill work, making this less decoration than a daily reminder that you were part of something purposeful.
I really enjoyed this print, Georg Pencz’s piece depicting each of the seven planets reveal a world where the heavens were deeply connected to life on earth, both physically and spiritually. The Moon hovers above a restless ocean, its influence shown through the moving waves and fishing boats below, a subtle nod to its power over the tides and the belief that water itself was tied to celestial rhythms. Venus is surrounded by scenes of harmony and fertility, reflecting her association with love, beauty, and the flourishing of life, and showing the gods divine power and its connection to the planets. Mars is depicted amid chaos and conflict, symbolizing war and human struggle another hint to the divine connections people held regarding the cosmos and the gods.
To people of this era, these planets were not just distant bodies but living forces that shaped fate and faith. Pencz’s work captures this worldview, showing a universe where divine order and natural forces were intertwined, and where the movements of the heavens were seen as signs of a higher plan guiding both nature and human destiny.
In Georg Pencz’s Seven Planets, his woodcut gives us an imaginative view into what people thought cosmologically before Copernicus. This emphasizes how these images express astrology, which is the connection between the celestial and the human/earthly. Venus is seated in a throne, surrounded with music and leisure, which is symbolism for the planet’s influence of beauty and love. What is important to the viewer is not the symbolism itself but how seamlessly it transitions from heavens to Earth. Stars and planets are not just lifeless objects, but are living agents for Earth and people. Pre copernicus, these woodcuts are descriptive of the worldview that the heavens do revolve around humanity.
In Pencz’s 1531 woodcut of Mars, I’m struck by how the planet is imagined not as a distant sphere but as a living force shaping earthly life. Mars sits enthroned above, armored and unyielding, while below him soldiers fight, fires rage, and whole cities seem to collapse into violence. The British Museum’s curator notes that each planet was thought to radiate its influence into human affairs, and here that belief comes alive in the way divine order and human strife are woven together. What amazes me is how natural it feels in this worldview that war itself could flow from the heavens, that the chaos on earth was really the reflection of a greater cosmic order. Looking at it, I feel a glimpse of that older sense of wonder, when the sky wasn’t just distant stars but a map of destiny itself.
Georg Pencz’s Seven Planets woodcuts of 1531 is a series of prints depicting different scenes. In the Mars print, the god of war towers at the top of the picture. The scene unfolds of solders clashing, villages aflame, and duels unfolding in every corner. This vision turns the remote red planet into a living pulse of earthly conflict. The belief of the time that the stars were radiant forces whose breath stirred the tides of history and the tempers of men, rather than cold and distant, is shown through the layering of divine figure and mortal struggle. Pencz’s depictions of the heavens transform them from abstractions into living, breathing forces that are felt and feared. This reminds us of a world in which gazing up meant catching a glimpse of the unseen forces influencing each and every human life.
Starting from the curator’s point that each planet “governs” its earthly children, what hooked me was how Pencz sneaks that rule into tiny mechanical rhymes between sky and ground. In Luna, the water-mill’s turning wheel feels like a landbound echo of celestial cycles, and the round nets the fishermen cast repeat the same pattern so the moon’s pull seems woven into tools and daily time. In Mars, that rhyme turns hard and sharp. The god’s tight reins and snapping dogs answer the driven cattle and upright pikes below, so order above becomes coercion on earth. In Venus, everything loosens. The line to Cupid hangs slack, and on the ground garlands, music, and couples drift into one another. Love works by suggestion instead of command. These call and response details make the belief system feel like more than superstition. The heavens set a meter and human life keeps time. Sometimes it grinds like a wheel. Sometimes it marches like an army. Sometimes it drifts like a song.