Egypt, Chaldaea, India, Persia, and China, only the upper portions of his
figure rise above the horizon, he then stood, the noblest save Orion of
all the constellations, with his feet (marked by the bright Alpha and
Beta still belonging to the constellation, and by the stars of the
Southern Cross which have been taken from it) upon the horizon itself.
In latitude twenty degrees or so north he may still be seen thus placed
when due south.
The Centaur was represented in old times as placing an offering upon the
altar, which was pictured, says Manilius, as bearing a fire of incense
represented by stars. This to a student of our modern charts seems
altogether perplexing. The Centaur carries the wolf on the end of his
spear; but instead of placing the wolf (not a very acceptable meat
offering, one would suppose) upon the altar, he is directing this animal
towards the base of the altar, whose top is downwards, the flames
represented there tending (naturally) downwards also. It is quite
certain the ancient observers did not imagine anything of this sort. As
I have said, Aratus tells us the celestial Centaur was placing an
offering _upon_ the altar, which was therefore upright, and Manilius
describes the altar as
Ferens thuris, stellis imitantibus, ignem,
so that the fire was where it should be, on the top of an upright altar,
where also on the sky itself were stars looking like the smoke from
incense fires. Now that was precisely the appearance presented by the
stars forming the constellation at the time I have indicated, some 2170
years B.C. Setting the altar upright above the southern horizon (that
is, inverting the absurd picture at present given of it) we see it just
where it should be placed to receive the Centaur's offering. A most
remarkable portion of the Milky Way is then seen to be directly above
the altar in such a way as to form a very good imitation of smoke
ascending from it. This part of the Milky Way is described by Sir J.
Herschel, who studied it carefully during his stay at the Cape of Good
Hope, as forming a complicated system of interlaced streaks and masses
which covers the tail of Scorpio (extending from the altar which lies
immediately south of the Scorpion's Tail). The Milky Way divides, in
fact, just above the altar as the constellation was seen 4000 years ago
above the southern horizon, one branch being that just described, the
other (like another stream of smoke) 'passing,' says Herschel, 'over
the stars Iota of the Altar, Theta and Iota of the Scorpion, etc., to
Gamma of the Archer, where it suddenly collects into a vivid oval mass,
so very rich in stars that a very moderate calculation makes their
number exceed 100,000.' Nothing could accord better with the
descriptions of Aratus and Manilius.
But there is another constellation which shows in a more marked way than
either the Centaur or the Altar that the date when the constellations
were invented must have been near that which I have named. Both Ara and
Centaurus look now in suitable latitudes (about twenty degrees north) as
they looked in higher latitudes (about forty degrees north) 4000 years
ago. For, the reeling motion of our earth has changed the place of the
celestial pole in such a way as only to depress these constellations
southwards without much changing their _position_; they are nearly
upright when due south now as they were 4000 years ago, only lower down.
But the great ship Argo has suffered a much more serious displacement.
One cannot now see this ship _like_ a ship at any time or from any place
on the earth's surface. If we travel south till the whole constellation
comes into visibility above the southern horizon at the proper season
(January and February for the midnight hours) the keel of the ship is
aslant, the stern being high above the waist (the fore part is wanting).
If we travel still further south, we can indeed reach places where the
course of the ship is so widened, and the changes of position so
increased, that she appears along part of her journey on an even keel,
but then she is high above the horizon. Now 4000 years ago she stood on
the horizon itself at her southern culmination, with level keel and
upright mast.
In passing I may note that for my own part I imagine that this great
ship represented the Ark, its fore part being originally the portion of
the Centaur now forming the horse, so that the Centaur was represented
as a man (not as a man-horse) offering a gift on the Altar. Thus in this
group of constellations I recognise the Ark, and Noah going up from the
Ark towards the altar 'which he builded unto the Lord; and took of every
clean beast, and of every clean fowl, and offered burnt offerings on the
altar.' I consider further that the constellation-figures of the Ship,
the Man with an offering, and the Altar, painted or sculptured in some
ancient astrological temple, came at a later time to be understood as
picturing a certain series of events, interpreted and expanded by a
poetical writer into a complete narrative. Without venturing to insist
on so heterodox a notion, I may remark as an odd coincidence that
probably such a picture or sculpture would have shown the smoke
ascending from the Altar which I have already described, and in this
smoke there would be shown the bow of Sagittarius; which, interpreted
and expanded in the way I have mentioned, might have accounted for the
'bow set in the clouds, for a token of a covenant.' It is noteworthy
that all the remaining constellations forming the southern limit of the
old star-domes or charts, were watery ones--the Southern Fish, over
which Aquarius is pouring a quite unnecessary stream of water, the Great
Sea Monster towards which in turn flow the streams of the River
Eridanus. The equator, too, was then occupied along a great part of its
length by the great sea serpent Hydra, which reared its head above the
equator, very probably indicated then by a water horizon, for nearly all
the signs below it were then watery. At any rate, as the length of Hydra
then lay horizontally above the Ship, whose masts reached it, we may
well believe that this part of the picture of the heavens showed a
sea-horizon and a ship, the great sea serpent lying along the horizon.
On the back of Hydra is the Raven, which again may be supposed by those
who accept the theory mentioned above to have suggested the raven which
went forth to and fro from the ark. He is close enough to the rigging of
Argo to make an easy journey of it. The dove, however, must not be
confounded with the modern constellation Columba, though this is placed
(suitably enough) near the Ark. We must suppose the idea of the dove was
suggested by a bird pictured in the rigging of the celestial ship. The
sequence in which the constellations came above the horizon as the year
went round corresponded very satisfactorily with the theory, fanciful
though this seem to some. First Aquarius pouring streams of water, the
three fishes (Pisces and Piscis australis), and the great sea monster
Cetus, showing how the waters prevailed over the highest hills, then the
Ark sailing on the waters, a little later the Raven (Corvus), the man
descending from the ark and offering a gift on the Altar, and last the
Bow set amid the clouds.
The theory just described may not meet with much favour. But wilder
theories of the story of the deluge have been adopted and advocated with
considerable confidence. One of the wildest, I fear, is the
Astronomer-Royal's, that the deluge was simply a great rising of the
Nile; and Sir G. Airy is so confident respecting this that he says, 'I
cannot entertain the smallest doubt that the flood of Noah was a flood
of the Nile;' precisely as he might say, 'I cannot entertain the
smallest doubt that the earth moves round the sun.' On one point we can
entertain very little doubt indeed. If it ever rained before the flood,
which seems probable, and if the sun ever shone on falling rain, which
again seems likely, nothing short of a miracle could have prevented the
rainbow from making its appearance before the flood. The wildest theory
that can be invented to explain the story of the deluge cannot be
wilder than the supposition that the rays of sunlight shining on falling
raindrops could have ever failed to show the prismatic colours. The
theory I have suggested above, without going so far as strongly to
advocate it, far less insist upon it, is free at any rate from objection
on this particular score, which cannot be said of the ordinary theory. I
am not yet able, however, to say that 'I cannot entertain the smallest
doubt' about my theory.
We may feel tolerably sure that the period when the old southern
constellations were formed must have been between 2400 and 2000 years
before the present era, a period, by the way, including the date usually
assigned to the deluge,--which, however, must really occupy our
attention no further. In fact, let us leave the watery constellations
lying below the equator of those remote times and seek at once the
highest heavens above them.
Here, at the northern pole of these days, we find the great Dragon,
which in any astrological temple of the time must have formed the
highest or crowning constellation, surrounding the very key-stone of the
dome. He has fallen away from that proud position since. In fact, even
4000 years ago he only held to the pole, so to speak, by his tail, and
we have to travel back 2000 years or so to find the pole situate in a
portion of the length of the Dragon which can be regarded as central.
One might almost, if fancifully disposed, recognise the gradual
displacement of the Dragon from his old place of honour, in certain
traditions of the downfall of the great Dragon whose 'tail drew the
third part of the stars of heaven.'
The central position of the Dragon, for even when the pole-star had
drawn near to the Dragon's tail the constellation was still central,
will remind the classical reader of Homer's description of the Shield of
Hercules--
The scaly horror of a dragon, coil'd
Full in the central field, unspeakable,
With eyes oblique retorted, that ascant
Shot gleaming fire. (_Elton's translation._)
I say Homer's description, for I cannot understand how any one who
compares together the description of the Shield of Achilles in the Iliad
and that of the Shield of Hercules in the fragmentary form in which we
have it, can doubt for a moment that both descriptions came from the
same hand. (The theory that Hesiod composed the latter poem can scarcely
be entertained by any scholar.) As I long since pointed out in my essay
'A New Theory of Achilles' Shield' ('Light Science,' first series), no
poet so inferior as actually to borrow Homer's words in part of the
description of the Shield of Hercules could have written the other parts
not found in the Shield of Achilles. 'I cannot for my own part entertain
the slightest doubt'--that is to say, I think it altogether
probable--that Homer composed the lines supposed to describe the Shield
of Hercules long before he introduced the description, pruned and
strengthened, into that particular part of the Iliad where it served his
purpose best. And I have as little doubt that the original description,
of which we only get fragments in either poem, related to something far
more important than a shield. The constellations are not suitable
adornments for the shield of fighting man, even though he was under the
special care of a celestial mother and had armour made for him by a
celestial smith. Yet we learn that Achilles' shield displayed--
The starry lights that heav'n's high convex crown'd
The Pleiads, Hyads, and the northern beam,
And great Orion's more refulgent beam,--
To which, around the cycle of the sky,
The bear revolving, points his golden eye,--
Still shines exalted.
And so forth. The Shield of Hercules displayed at its centre the polar
constellation the Dragon. We read also that--
There was the knight of fair-hair'd Danae born,
Perseus.
Orion is not specially mentioned, but Orion, Lepus, and the Dogs seem
referred to:--
Men of chase
Were taking the fleet hares; two keen-toothed dogs
Bounded beside.
Homer would find no difficulty in pluralising the mighty Hunter and the
hare into huntsmen and hares when utilising a description originally
referring to the constellation.
I conceive that the original description related to one of those zodiac
temples whose remains are still found in Egypt, though the Egyptian
temples of this kind were probably only copies of more ancient Chaldaean
temples. We know from Assyrian sculptures that representations of the
constellations (and especially the zodiacal constellations) were common
among the Babylonians; and, as I point out in the essay above referred
to, 'it seems probable that in a country where Sabaeanism or star-worship
was the prevailing form of religion, yet more imposing proportions would
be given to zodiac temples than in Egypt.' My theory, then, respecting
the two famous 'Shields' is that Homer in his eastern travels visited
imposing temples devoted to astronomical observation and star-worship,
and that nearly every line in both descriptions is borrowed from a poem
in which he described a temple of this sort, its domed zodiac, and those
illustrations of the labours of different seasons and of military or
judicial procedures which the astrological proclivities of
star-worshippers led them to associate with the different
constellations. For the arguments on which this theory is based I have
not here space. They are dealt with in the essay from which I have
quoted.
One point only I need touch upon here, besides those I have mentioned
already. It may be objected that the description of a zodiac temple has
nothing to connect it with the subject of the Iliad. This is certainly
true; but no one who is familiar with Homer's manner can doubt that he
would work in, if he saw the opportunity, a poem on some subject outside
that of the Iliad, so modifying the language that the description would
correspond with the subject in hand. There are many passages, though
none of such length, in both the Iliad and the Odyssey, which seem thus
to have been brought into the poem; and other passages not exactly of
this kind yet show that Homer was not insensible to the advantage of
occasionally using memory instead of invention.
Any one who considers attentively the aspect of the constellation Draco
in the heavens, will perceive that the drawing of the head in the maps
is not correct; the head is no longer pictured as it must have been
conceived by those who first formed the constellation. The two bright
stars Beta and Gamma are now placed on a head in profile. Formerly they
marked the two eyes. I would not lay stress on the description of the
Dragon in the Shield of Hercules, 'with eyes oblique retorted, that
askant shot gleaming fire;' for all readers may not be prepared to
accept my opinion that that description related to the constellation
Draco. But the description of the constellation itself by Aratus
suffices to show that the two bright stars I have named marked the eyes
of the imagined monster--in fact, Aratus's account singularly resembles
that given in the Shield of Hercules. 'Swol'n is his neck,' says Aratus
of the Dragon--
... Eyes charg'd with sparkling fire
His crested head illume. As if in ire,
To Helice he turns his foaming jaw,
And darts his tongue, barb'd with a blazing star.
And the dragon's head with sparkling eyes can be recognised to this day,
so soon as this change is made in its configuration, whereas no one can
recognise the remotest resemblance to a dragon's head in profile. The
star barbing the Dragon's tongue would be Xi of the Dragon according to
Aratus's account, for so only would the eyes be turned towards Helice
the Bear. But when Aratus wrote, the practice of separating the
constellations from each other had been adopted; in fact, he derived his
knowledge of them chiefly from Eudoxus, the astronomer and
mathematician, who certainly would not have allowed the constellations
to be intermixed. In the beginning, there are reasons for believing it
was different, and if a group of stars resembled any known object it
would be called after that object, even though some of the stars
necessary to make up the figure belonged already to some other figure.
This being remembered, we can have no difficulty in retorting the
Dragon's head more naturally--not to the star Xi of the Dragon, but to
the star Iota of Hercules. The four stars are situated thus,
[Illustration] the larger ones representing the eyes; and so far as the
head is concerned it is a matter of indifference whether the lower or
the upper small star be taken to represent the tongue. But, as any one
will see who looks at these stars when the Dragon is best placed for
ordinary (non-telescopic) observation, the attitude of the animal is far
more natural when the star Iota of Hercules marks the tongue, for then
the creature is situated like a winged serpent hovering above the
horizon and looking downwards, whereas when the star Xi marks the
tongue, the hovering Dragon is looking upwards and is in an unnaturally
constrained position. (I would not, indeed, claim to understand
perfectly all the ways of dragons; still it may be assumed that a dragon
hovering above the horizon would rather look downwards in a natural
position than upwards in an awkward one.)
The star Iota of Hercules marks the heel of this giant, called the
Kneeler (Engonasin) from time immemorial. He must have been an important
figure on the old zodiac temples, and not improbably his presence there
as one of the largest and highest of the human figures may have caused a
zodiac-dome to be named after Hercules. The Dome of Hercules would come
near enough to the title, 'The Shield of Hercules,' borne by the
fragmentary poem dealt with above. The foot of the kneeling man was
represented on the head of the dragon, the dragon having hold of the
heel. And here, again, some imagine that a sculptured representation of
these imagined figures in the heavens may have been interpreted and
expanded into the narrative of a contest between the man and the old
serpent the dragon, Ophiuchus the serpent-bearer being supposed to
typify the eventual defeat of the dragon. This fancy might be followed
out like that relating to the deluge; but the present place would be
unsuitable for further inquiries in that particular direction.
Some interest attaches to the constellation Ophiuchus, to my mind, in
the evidence it affords respecting the way in which the constellations
were at first intermixed. I have mentioned one instance in which, as I
think, the later astronomers separated two constellations which had once
been conjoined. Many others can be recognised when we compare the actual
star-groups with the constellation-figures as at present depicted. No
one can recognise the poop of a ship in the group of stars now assigned
to the stern of Argo, but if we include the stars of the Greater Dog,
and others close by, a well-shaped poop can be clearly seen. The head
of the Lion of our maps is as the head of a dog, so far as stars are
concerned; but if stars from the Crab on one side and from Virgo on the
other be included in the figure, and especially Berenice's hair to form
the tuft of the lion's tail, a very fine lion with waving mane can be
discerned, with a slight effort of the imagination. So with Bootes the
herdsman. He was of old 'a fine figure of a man,' waving aloft his arms,
and, as his name implies, shouting lustily at the retreating bear. Now,
and from some time certainly preceding that of Eudoxus, one arm has been
lopped off to fashion the northern crown, and the herdsman holds his
club as close to his side as a soldier holds his shouldered musket. The
constellation of the Great Bear, once I conceive the only bear (though
the lesser bear is a very old constellation), has suffered wofully.
Originally it must have been a much larger bear, the stars now forming
the tail marking part of the outline of the back; but first some folks
who were unacquainted with the nature of bears turned the three stars
(the horses of the plough) into a long tail, abstracting from the animal
all the corresponding portion of his body, and then modern astronomers
finding a great vacant space where formerly the bear's large frame
extended, incontinently formed the stars of this space into a new
constellation, the Hunting Dogs. No one can recognise a bear in the
constellation as at present shaped, but any one who looks attentively at
the part of the skies occupied by the constellation will recognise
(always 'making believe a good deal') a monstrous bear, with the proper
small head of creatures of the bear family, and with exceedingly
well-developed plantigrade feet. Of course this figure cannot at all
times be recognised with equal facility; but before midnight during the
last four or five months in the year, the bear occupies positions
favouring his recognition, being either upright on his feet, or as if
descending a slope, or squatting on his great haunches. As a long-tailed
animal the creature is more like one of those wooden toy-monkeys which
used to be made for children, and may be now, in which the sliding
motion of a ringed rod carried the monkey over the top of a stick. The
little bear has I think been borrowed from the dragon, which was
certainly a winged monster originally.
Now the astronomers who separated from each other, and in so doing
spoiled the old constellation-figures, seem to have despaired of freeing
Ophiuchus from his entanglements. The Serpent is twined around his body,
the Scorpion is clawing at one leg. The constellation makers have _per
fas et nefas_ separated Scorpio from the Serpent Holder, spoiling both
figures. But the Serpent has been too much for them, insomuch that they
have been reduced to the abject necessity of leaving one part of the
Serpent on one side of the region they allow to Ophiuchus, and the other
part of the Serpent to the other.
A group of constellations whose origin and meaning are little understood
remains to be mentioned. Close by the Dragon is King Cepheus, beside him
his wife Cassiopeia (the Seated Lady), near whom is Andromeda the
Chained Lady. The Sea Monster Cetus is not far away, though not near
enough to threaten her safety, the Ram and Triangle being between the
monster's head and her feet, the Fishes intervening between the body of
the monster and her fair form. Close at hand is Perseus, the Rescuer,
with a sword (looking very much like a reaping-hook in all the old
pictures) in his right hand, and bearing in his left the head of Medusa.
The general way of accounting for the figures thus associated has been
by supposing that, having a certain tradition about Cepheus and his
family, men imagined in the heavens the pictorial representation of the
events of the tradition. I have long believed that the actual order in
this and other cases was the reverse of this, that men imagined certain
figures in the heavens, pictured these figures in their astronomical
temples or observatories, and made stories to fit the pictures
afterwards, probably many generations afterwards. Be this as it may, we
can at present give no satisfactory explanation of the group of
constellations.
Wilford gives an account, in his 'Asiatic Researches,' of a conversation
with a pundit or astronomer respecting the names of the Indian
constellations. 'Asking him,' he says, 'to show me in the heavens the
constellation Antarmada, he immediately pointed to Andromeda, though I
had not given him any information about it beforehand. He afterwards
brought me a very rare and curious work in Sanscrit, which contained a
chapter devoted to _Upanachatras_, or extra-zodiacal constellations,
with drawings of _Capuja_ (Cepheus) and of _Casyapi_ (Cassiopeia) seated
and holding a lotus-flower in her hand, of Antarmada charmed with the
Fish beside her, and last of _Paraseia_ (Perseus), who, according to the
explanation of the book, held the head of a monster which he had slain
in combat; blood was dropping from it, and for hair it had snakes.' Some
have inferred from the circumstance that the Indian charts thus showed
the Cassiopeian set of constellations, that the origin of these figures
is to be sought in India. But probably both the Indian and the Greek
constellation-figures were derived from a much older source.