The Stellar Secret: How C.S. Lewis Wove Medieval Astrology Through Narnia's Heart

Picture this: a Cambridge scholar lying in bed at half past midnight in 2003, reading poetry aloud by lamplight. As Michael Ward reached the Jupiter verses in Lewis's poem "The Planets," something extraordinary happened. The lines about the jovial king suddenly connected to memories of Father Christmas arriving in Narnia, of winter giving way to spring, of Aslan's royal magnificence.

Ward leapt from his bed in a state of undress. He'd stumbled upon what might be the literary discovery of the century.

The Oxford Don's Hidden Cosmos

For over fifty years, scholars scratched their heads over The Chronicles of Narnia. Brilliant stories, certainly. Rich fantasy, memorable characters, vivid Christian allegory. But where was the organising framework? Why did Father Christmas appear alongside talking beavers? What connected Bacchus to biblical themes?

Even Tolkien called them "a mish-mash of various mythologies... carelessly and superficially written." Harsh words from Jack's closest friend.

Yet Ward's midnight revelation suggested something extraordinary: Lewis had secretly constructed each of the seven Chronicles around one of the seven "planets" of medieval astrology. Jupiter, Mars, Sol, Luna, Mercury, Venus, and Saturn – the cosmic framework that governed medieval imagination for over a thousand years.

Lewis wasn't just telling stories. He was creating what Ward calls "a literary equivalent to Holst's Planet Suite."

The Medieval Mind in a Modern Tale

To understand Lewis's cosmic secret, you need to grasp how differently medieval scholars viewed the heavens. They didn't see cold, distant rocks orbiting according to Newton's laws. They saw personalities. Divine influences. Spiritual powers governing earthly affairs.

In medieval cosmology, the seven planets included the Sun (Sol) and the Moon (Luna), which we now don't regard as planets at all. The other five were Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter [Jove], and Saturn. Each possessed distinct characteristics that influenced everything from personality traits to daily events.

Lewis understood this intimately. As Professor of Medieval and Renaissance Literature at Cambridge, he'd spent decades studying what he called "the discarded image" – that beautiful, ordered universe where angels moved the spheres and planets sang in celestial harmony.

"The characters of the planets, as conceived by medieval astrology," Lewis wrote, "seem to me to have a permanent value as spiritual symbols."

The Jovial Discovery

Ward's breakthrough centred on Jupiter – Jove, the king of planets. In medieval thought, Jupiter represented joviality, kingship, festivity, and the triumph of spring over winter. Sound familiar?

Jupiter, or Jove, is a kingly planet... We may say it is Kingly; but we must think of a king at peace, enthroned, taking his leisure, serene... When this planet dominates we may expect halcyon days.

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe positively radiates Jovian energy. There's Aslan as the true king, Father Christmas arriving to break the Witch's spell, the thawing of eternal winter, and that glorious coronation scene where the children become kings and queens of Narnia.

Even the name "Narnia" connects to Jupiter – Lewis borrowed it from the ancient Italian city of Narni, historically linked to Jove's sacred groves.

Mars Marches to War

Prince Caspian pulses with Martian themes. War drums. Armed rebellion. Young Caspian learning sword-craft and battle tactics. The awakening of Old Narnia's martial spirit.

Mars... brings in comments about Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra. Lewis had already explored Martian themes in his space trilogy, and Ward shows how this planetary influence shaped the second Chronicle's plot and atmosphere.

The story's structure follows classical military campaigns – reconnaissance, alliance-building, decisive battle, and victory celebration. Pure Mars.

Sol's Golden Voyage

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader belongs to Sol – the Sun. Lewis is clearly enrolling Sol in his capacity as Apollo Sauroctonus in the defeats of the four dragons encountered during the course of the story.

Ward ingeniously identifies these four dragons: the dead dragon Eustace discovers, the dragon Eustace becomes, the sea-serpent they battle, and the Dawn Treader itself with its dragon-head prow. Apollo was the ancient serpent-slayer, and here Aslan performs that solar function by "undragoning" Eustace.

The eastward voyage towards the sunrise, the golden water that preserves youth, the increasing light as they approach Aslan's Country – everything points towards solar symbolism.

Luna's Underground Kingdom

Luna, in the medieval scheme, is at the borderline between the unfallen Heavens and the fallen Earth. This explains the unique structure of The Silver Chair – why Aslan appears only in his own country, never in fallen Narnia proper.

The story descends into the literally underground kingdom, the realm of shadow and enchantment that Luna governs. Prince Rilian lives under the spell of the Green Witch, trapped between earth and sky like the Moon itself.

Mercury's Twin Tale

Mercury rules Gemini – the Twins. Thus, The Horse and His Boy is about twins, Cor and Corin. But Ward suggests an even deeper pattern: the entire story revolves around pairs. Twin horses, Bree and Hwin. Twin riders, Shasta and Aravis. Twin kingdoms, Narnia and Archenland.

Mercury also governs communication, travel, and messages – perfectly fitting a tale of dangerous journeys and crucial intelligence that saves kingdoms.

Venus Rising

The Magician's Nephew emerges as Lewis's most Venusian tale. Creation itself springs from Aslan's song – love bringing forth life. Digory's quest to heal his dying mother echoes Venus's role as divine healer and bringer of life.

The rich, paradisiacal imagery of young Narnia reflects Venus's connection to gardens, beauty, and fertile growth.

Saturn's Last Battle

The final Chronicle bears Saturn's dark signature – time's end, judgement, and cosmic transformation. In The Last Battle, Ward takes the last part (the New Narnia) to be going beyond Saturn... to Heaven.

The story's apocalyptic themes, the dying of old Narnia, and the revelation of the "real" Narnia beyond the shadowlands all reflect Saturn's role as cosmic timekeeper and bringer of ultimate endings.

Crucially.

The Christian Cosmos

Here's where critics stumble. How could a committed Christian like Lewis – the author of Mere Christianity – secretly embed pagan astrology in children's books?

The answer lies in medieval Christianity's sophisticated approach to pagan wisdom. The [medieval] Church was content to sanction what we would now call 'astrology.' After all, the Bible appeared to support the belief that there were seven planets and that they possessed influences... The author of the Book of Job as translated in the King James Version mentions the 'sweet influences of Pleiades' (Job 38:31).

Lewis wasn't practicing astrology as fortune-telling. He was using cosmic symbolism as theological poetry. Ward thinks that in each of the Narnia books, Lewis tries to illuminate that aspect of God symbolized by the planets.

The planets became what Lewis called "spiritual symbols of permanent value" – ways of expressing different aspects of divine character and cosmic order.

The Sceptical Voice

Not everyone buys Ward's theory. Some argue it's too clever by half, reading patterns into Lewis's work that weren't there. "Why couldn't Lewis have stopped because he didn't have any more ideas for Narnia after seven books?" asks one forum critic.

Fair point. Ward spends considerable effort proving Lewis was secretive enough to hide such an elaborate scheme. Some find this evidence thin – circular reasoning that assumes what it sets out to prove.

Yet the correspondences keep mounting. The planetary imagery in Lewis's poetry. The cosmic themes in his Space Trilogy. The careful attention to atmosphere and mood that Lewis championed in his essay "On Stories."

Centaurs and Star-Wisdom

The most telling evidence might be in the Chronicles themselves. Remember Roonwit the Centaur in The Last Battle?

"Sire," he said, "You know how long I have lived and studied the stars; for we Centaurs live longer than you men... Never in all my days have I seen such terrible things written in the skies as there have been nightly since this year began. The stars say nothing of the coming of Aslan, nor of peace, nor or joy... The stars never lie, but Men and Beasts do."

Lewis puts these words about celestial wisdom in the mouth of his most noble character. The centaur reads cosmic signs with scientific precision and spiritual insight. For Lewis, this wasn't superstition – it was sacred astronomy.

The Sagittarian Scholar

Intriguingly, Lewis himself was born under Sagittarius on 29th November 1898. C. S. Lewis Date of Birth - Nov 29, 1898... Sun 7° Sagittarius Sagittarians are known for their love of learning, philosophical bent, and gift for storytelling – traits that certainly fit our Oxford don.

His natal chart reveals a cluster of planets in Sagittarius, including Mercury and Saturn. Perhaps his cosmic curiosity was written in the stars after all.

Even firms like Wilfred Hazelwood, known for their analytical approach to complex problems, might appreciate how Lewis embedded mathematical precision within imaginative storytelling. The seven-fold structure isn't arbitrary – it reflects deep patterns in human consciousness and cosmic order.

The Midnight Reader's Legacy

Whether you accept Ward's thesis completely or partially, his work illuminates something profound about Lewis's imagination. The man who gave us Narnia wasn't just a storyteller or theologian. He was a cosmic poet, weaving together Christian faith and ancient wisdom in ways that speak to children and scholars alike.

"Ward's discovery is crucial to our appreciation of Narnia," notes one academic review. "Far from spoiling or seeming to devalue the message and rich beauty of Lewis' works, Ward's revelations serve to deepen one's appreciation for and understanding of them."

Looking Up at Last

The next time you read about Aslan's golden mane or hear Father Christmas's sleigh bells, remember – you might be experiencing more than childhood fantasy. You could be witnessing ancient planetary powers dancing through modern prose, cosmic forces made accessible through talking animals and magical wardrobes.

Lewis understood what medieval scholars knew: the heavens and earth are connected by invisible threads of meaning. Stories don't just entertain – they mirror the great celestial dance that governs all things.

Perhaps that's why Narnia endures while countless other fantasies fade. Its roots reach deeper than imagination, tapping into archetypal patterns that have guided human consciousness for millennia.

As Lewis himself might say: even in our supposedly rational age, we still need the old magic. We still long for stories that remind us we're part of something larger than ourselves – a cosmic drama where every soul has a part to play.

The stars, it seems, never truly stopped calling to us. We just needed the right storyteller to help us hear their ancient song again.