the spectacle of mountains adorned with forests or crowned with
perpetual snow, the spectacle of the sky attracts us, envelops
us, speaks to us of the infinite, gives us the dizziness of the
abyss; for, more than any other, it seizes the contemplative mind
and appeals to it, being the truth, the infinite, the eternal,
the all. Writers who know nothing of the true poetry of modern
science have supposed that the perception of the sublime is born of
ignorance, and that to admire it is necessary not to know. This is
assuredly a strange error, and the best proof of it is found in the
captivating charm and the passionate admiration which divine science
now inspires, not in some rare minds only, but in thousands of
intellects, in a hundred thousand readers impassioned in the search
for truth, surprised, almost ashamed at having lived in ignorance of
and indifference to these splendid realities, anxious to incessantly
enlarge their conception of things eternal, and feeling admiration
increasing in their dazzled minds in proportion as they penetrate
further into Infinitude. What was the universe of Moses, of Job,
of Hesiod, or of Cicero, compared to ours! Search through all the
religious mysteries, in all the surprises of art, painting, music,
the theatre, or romance, search for an intellectual contemplation
which produces in the mind the impression of truth, of grandeur, of
the sublime, like astronomical contemplation! The smallest shooting
star puts to us a question which it is difficult not to hear; it
seems to say to us, What are we in the universe? The comet opens its
wings to carry us into the profundities of space: the star which
shines in the depths of the heavens shows us a distant sun surrounded
with unknown humanities who warm themselves in his rays. Wonderful,
immense, fantastic spectacles, they charm by their captivating beauty
and transport into the majesty of the unfathomable the man who
permits himself to soar and wing his flight to Infinitude.
Nel ciel che più della sua luce prende
Fu’ io, e vidi cose che ridire
Né sa, né può qual di lassù discende.
“I have ascended into the heavens, which receive most of His light,
and I have seen things which he who descends from on high knows not,
neither can repeat,” wrote Dante in the first canto of his poem on
“Paradise.” Let us, like him, rise toward the celestial heights, no
longer on the trembling wings of faith, but on the stronger wings
of science. What the stars would teach us is incomparably more
beautiful, more marvelous, and more splendid than anything we can
dream of.
[Illustration: Chart of the Northern Constellations
Showing the principal Stars of the first five magnitudes visible to
the naked eye]
Among the innumerable army of stars which sparkle in the infinite
night, the gaze is especially arrested by the most brilliant lights
and by certain groups which vaguely present a mysterious bond between
the worlds of space. These groups have been noticed at all epochs,
even among the rudest races of men, and from the earliest ages of
humanity they have received names, usually derived from the organic
kingdom, which give a fantastic life to the solitude and the silence
of the skies. Thus were early distinguished the seven stars of the
North, or the Chariot, of which Homer speaks; the _Pleiades_, or the
“_Poussinière_”; the giant _Orion_; the Hyades in the head of Taurus;
_Boötes_, near the Chariot or Great Bear. These five groups were
already named more than 3,000 years ago, and so were the brightest
stars of the sky, _Sirius_ and _Arcturus_, etc.
The epoch of the formation of the constellations is unknown, but we
know that they were established successively. The centaur Chiron,
Jason’s tutor, has the reputation of having first divided the sky on
the sphere of the Argonauts. But this is mythology; and, besides,
Job lived before the epoch at which Chiron is supposed to have
flourished, and Job had already spoken of Orion, the Pleiades, and
the Hyades 3,000 years ago. Homer also speaks of these constellations
in describing the famous shield of Vulcan. “On its surface,” says
he, “Vulcan, with a divine intelligence traces a thousand varied
pictures. He represents the earth, the heavens, the sea, the
indefatigable sun, the moon at its full, and all the stars which
wreath the sky: the Pleiades, the Hyades, the brilliant Orion, the
Bear, which they also call the Chariot, and which revolves round the
pole; this is the only constellation which does not dip into the
ocean waves” (_Iliad_, chapter xviii.).
Several theologians have affirmed that it was Adam himself, in
the terrestrial paradise, who gave their names to the stars; the
historian Josephus assures us that it was not Adam, but his son Seth,
and that in any case astronomy was cultivated long before the Deluge.
This nobility is sufficient for us.
Attentive observation of the sky also noticed from the beginning
the beautiful stars _Vega_ of the Lyre, _Capella_ of Auriga,
_Procyon_ of the Little Dog, _Antares_ of the Scorpion, _Altair_
of the Eagle, _Spica_ of the Virgin, the _Twins_, the _Chair_ of
Cassiopeia, the Cross of the White _Swan_, stretched in the midst of
the _Milky Way_. Although noticed at the epoch of Hesiod and Homer,
these constellations and stars were probably not yet named, because
doubtless men had not yet felt the necessity of registering them for
any application to the calendar, to navigation, or to voyages.[7]
At the epoch when the maritime power of the Phœnicians was at its
apogee, about 3,000 years ago, or twelve centuries before our era, it
was the star β of the Little Bear which was the nearest bright star
to the pole, and the skilful navigators of Tyre and Sidon (O purpled
kings of former times! what remains of your pride?) had recognized
the seven stars of the Little Bear, which they named the Tail of the
Dog, _Cynosura_; they guided themselves by the pivot of the diurnal
motion, and during several centuries they surpassed in precision all
the mariners of the Mediterranean. The Dog has given place to a Bear,
doubtless on account of the resemblance of the configuration of these
seven stars to the seven of the Great Bear, but the tail remains long
and curled up, in spite of the nature of the new animal.
Thus the stars of the North at first served as points of reference
for the first men who dared to venture on the seas. But they served
at the same time as guides on the mainland for the nomadic tribes who
carried their tents from country to country. In the midst of savage
nature, the first warriors themselves had nothing but the Little Bear
to guide their steps.
Imperceptibly, successively, the constellations were formed. Some
groups resemble the names which they still bear, and suggested their
denomination to the men of ancient times, who lived in the midst
of nature and sought everywhere for relations with their daily
observations. The Chariot; the Chair; the Three Kings, also named
the Rake; Jacob’s Staff and the Belt of Orion; the Pleiades, or the
Hen and Chickens; the Arrow (Sagitta); the Crown; the Triangle; the
Twins; the Dragon; the Serpent; and even the Bull, the Swan, the
Giant Orion, the Dolphin, the Fishes, the Lion, Water and Aquarius
(the Water-bearer), etc., have given rise to the analogy. These
resemblances are sometimes vague and far-fetched, like those we
find in the clouds; but it appears much more natural to admit this
origin than to suppose, with the classic authors, that these names
were suggested by the concordance between the seasons or the labors
of the fields and the presence of the stars above the horizon. That
the name of the Balance (Libra) was given to the constellation of
the equinox because then the days are equal, seems to us more than
questionable; that Cancer (the Crab) signifies that the sun goes back
to the solstice, and that the Lion has for its object to symbolize
the heat of summer, and Aquarius the rain and inundations, appears
to us no less imaginary. However, they have also had other origins.
Thus, the Great Dog Sirius certainly announced the rising of the
Nile and the dog-days (which remain in our calendar as a fine type
of anachronism). Poetry, gratitude, the deification of heroes,
mythology, afterward transferred to the sky the names of personages
and sovereigns—Hercules, Perseus, Andromeda, Cepheus, Cassiopeia,
Pegasus; later, in the Roman epoch, they added the Hair of Berenice
and Antinous; later still, in modern times, they added the Southern
Cross, the Indian, the Sculptor’s Workshop (Cœlum), the Lynx, the
Giraffe (Camelopardus), the Greyhounds (Canes Venatici), the Shield
of Sobieski, and the little Fox (Vulpecula). They even placed in the
sky a Mountain, an Oak, a Peacock, a Swordfish, a Goose, a Cat, a
Crane, a Lizard, and a Fly, for which there was no necessity.
This is not the place to describe and draw in detail all these
constellations, with their more or less strange figures. The
important point for us here is to form a general idea.
The sky remains divided into provinces, each of which continues to
bear the name of the primitive constellation. But it is important
to understand that the positions of the stars themselves, as we see
them, are not absolute, and that the different configurations which
they may show us are only a matter of perspective. We already know
that the sky is not a concave sphere on which brilliant nails could
be attached; that it is not a species of vault; that an immense
infinite void envelops the earth on all sides, in all directions. We
know also that the stars, the suns of space, are scattered at all
distances in the vast immensity. When, therefore, we remark in the
sky several stars near each other, that does not imply that these
stars form the same constellation, that they are on the same plane,
and at an equal distance from the earth. By no means; the arrangement
which they assume to our eyes is but an appearance caused by the
position of the earth relatively to them. This is a mere matter of
perspective. If we could leave our world, and transport ourselves
to a point in space sufficiently distant, we should see a variation
in the apparent arrangement of the stars so much the greater as
our station of observation were more distant from where we are at
present. A moment’s reflection is sufficient to convince us of this
fact, and save us from insisting further on this point.
Once these illusions are appreciated at their true value, we can
begin the description of the figures with which the ancient mythology
has constellated the sphere. A knowledge of the constellations is
necessary for the observation of the heavens and for the researches
which a love of the sciences and curiosity may suggest; without it
we find ourselves in an unknown country, of which the geography has
not been made, and where it would be impossible to know our exact
position. Let us make, then, this celestial geography; let us see how
to find our way, in order to read readily in the great book of the
heavens.
There is a constellation which everybody knows; for greater
simplicity we will begin with it. It will serve us well as a point of
departure from which to go to the others, and as a point of reference
to find its companions. This constellation is the _Great Bear_, which
has also been named the _Chariot of David_.
It may well boast of being celebrated. If, notwithstanding its
universal notoriety, some of our readers have not yet made its
acquaintance, the following is a description by which they may
recognize it.
[Illustration: Fig. 2]
Turn yourself toward the north—that is to say, opposite to the point
where the sun is found at noon. Whatever may be the season of the
year, the day of the month, or the hour of the night, you will always
see there a large constellation formed of seven fine stars, of which
four are in a quadrilateral, and three at an angle with one side; all
are arranged as we see in Fig. 2.
You have all seen it, have you not? It never sets. Night and day it
watches above the northern horizon, _turning slowly_ in twenty-four
hours round a star of which we shall speak directly. In the figure of
the Great Bear, the three stars of the extremity form the tail, and
the four in the quadrilateral lie in the body. In the Chariot, the
four stars of the quadrilateral form the wheels, and the other three
the pole, the horses, or the oxen. Above the second of these latter
stars, ζ, good sight distinguishes quite a little star named Alcor,
which is also called the Cavalier. It serves to test the power of the
sight. Each star is designated by a letter of the Greek alphabet: α
and β mark the first two stars of the quadrilateral, γ and δ the two
following, ε, ζ, η, the three of the pole. Arabic names have also
been given to these stars, which we will pass in silence, because
they are generally obsolete, with the exception, however, of that of
the second horse—Mizar. With reference to the Greek letters, many
persons think that it would be preferable to suppress them and to
replace them by numbers. But this would be impossible in the practice
of astronomy; and, moreover, inevitable confusion would result, on
account of the numbers which the stars bear in the catalogues.
The Latins gave to plowing oxen the name of _triones_; instead
of speaking of a chariot and three oxen, they came to call them
the seven oxen (_septemtriones_). From this is derived the word
septentrion, and there are now doubtless but few persons who, in
writing this word, know that they are speaking of seven oxen. It is
the same, however, with many other words. Who remembers, for example,
in using the word _tragedy_, that he speaks of a song of a goat:
_tragôs-ode_?
Let us go back to Fig. 2. If we draw a straight line through the two
stars marked α and β which form the right side of the square, and
produce it beyond α to a distance equal to five times that from β
to α, or to a distance equaling that from α to the end of the tail,
η, we find a star a little less brilliant than at the extremity of
a figure similar to the Great Bear, but smaller and pointing in
the opposite direction. This is the _Little Bear_, or the _Little
Chariot_, also formed of seven stars. The star to which our line
leads us—that which is at the tip of the tail of the Little Bear, or
at the end of the pole of the Little Chariot—is the _polar star_.
[Illustration: Fig. 3]
The polar star enjoys a certain fame, like all persons who are
distinguished from the common, because, among all the bodies which
scintillate in the starry night, it alone remains motionless in the
heavens. At any moment of the year, by day or by night, when you
observe the sky, you will always find it. All the other stars, on the
contrary, turn in twenty-four hours round it, taken as the centre of
this immense vortex. The pole star remains motionless at the pole of
the world, from whence it serves as a fixed point to navigators on
the trackless ocean, as well as to travelers in the unexplored desert.
[Illustration: Fig. 4]
In looking at the pole star, motionless in the midst of the northern
region of the sky, we have the south behind us, the east to the
right, the west to the left. All the stars turn round the pole star
in a direction contrary to that of the hands of a watch; they should,
then, be recognized according to their mutual relations rather than
by reference to the cardinal points.
On the other side of the pole star, with reference to the Great
Bear, is found another constellation which we can also recognize
at once. If from the middle star, δ, we draw a line to the pole,
and produce this line by the same distance (see Fig. 3), we arrive
at _Cassiopeia_, formed of five principal stars arranged somewhat
like the strokes of the letter M. The little star χ, which completes
the square, gives the constellation the form of a _chair_. This
group assumes all possible positions in turning round the pole; it
is found sometimes above, sometimes below, sometimes to the right,
and sometimes to the left; but it is always easily recognized, for,
like the preceding group, it never sets, and is always opposite to
the Great Bear. The pole star is the axle round which both these
constellations turn.
[Illustration: Fig. 5 Fig. 6]
If, now, we draw from the stars α and δ of the Great Bear two lines
through the pole, and produce them beyond Cassiopeia, we come to the
Square of Pegasus (see Fig. 4), which shows a line of three stars
somewhat similar to the tail of the Great Bear. These three stars
belong to _Andromeda_, and lead to another constellation, _Perseus_.
The last star of the Square of Pegasus is, as we see, the first
(α) of Andromeda; the three others are named γ, α, and β. To the
north of β of Andromeda is found, near a little star, ν, an oblong
nebula, which can be distinguished with the naked eye. In Perseus,
α, the brightest—on the prolongation of the three principal stars of
Andromeda—appears between two others less brilliant, which form with
it a concave arc very easy to distinguish. This arc serves us for a
new alignment. Producing it in the direction of δ, we find a very
brilliant star of the first magnitude; this is _Capella_ (the Goat).
Forming a right angle with this prolongation toward the south we come
to the _Pleiades_ (Fig. 5). Not far from that is a variable star,
_Algol_, or the _Head of Medusa_, which varies from the second to the
fourth magnitude[8] in 2 days, 20 hours, 48 minutes, 51 seconds. We
may add, that in this region the star γ of Andromeda is one of the
most beautiful double stars (it is even triple).
[Illustration: Fig. 7 Fig. 8]
If, now, we produce beyond the Square of Pegasus (Fig. 6) the curved
line of Andromeda, we reach the Milky Way, and we meet in these parts
Cygnus, like a cross; the Lyre, where Vega shines (Fig. 7); the
Eagle, and Altair (not Atair, as it is sometimes written) with two
companions (Fig. 8).
Such are the principal constellations visible in the circumpolar
regions on one side; we shall make a fuller acquaintance with them
directly. While we are tracing the lines of reference let us still
have a little patience and finish our summary review of this part of
the sky.
[Illustration: Fig. 9]
Look now at the side opposite to that of which we have just spoken.
Let us return to the Great Bear. Producing the tail along its curve,
we find at some distance from that a star of the first magnitude,
_Arcturus_ (Fig. 9), or α of Boötes. A little circle of stars which
we see to the left of Boötes constitutes the _Northern Crown_ (Corona
Borealis). In the month of May, 1866, there was seen shining there
a fine star, the brightness of which lasted only fifteen days. The
constellation of Boötes is traced in the form of a pentagon. The
stars which compose it are of the third magnitude, with the exception
of Arcturus, which is of the first. This is one of the nearest to the
earth; at least, it is one of a small number whose distance has been
measured. It shines with a beautiful golden yellow color. The star
ε, which we see above it, is _double_—that is to say, the telescope
resolves it into two distinct stars, one yellow, the other blue.
[Illustration: Fig. 10.]
This technical description is far from the poetry of Nature; but it
is especially important here to be clear and precise. Let us suppose
ourselves, however, under the starry vault on a beautiful summer’s
night, splendid and silent, and let us consider that each of these
points which we seek to recognize is a world, or rather a system of
worlds. Look at this equilateral triangle (Fig 10); it permits us
to cast our eyes successively on three important suns: Vega of the
Lyre, Arcturus of Boötes, and the pole star, which watches above the
solitudes of our mysterious North Pole. Many martyrs of science have
died looking at it! In twelve thousand years our descendants will
see the Lyre at the pole, ruling the harmony of the heavens.
The stars which are near the pole, and which have for that reason
received the name of circumpolar stars, are distributed in the
groups which have just been indicated. I earnestly invite my readers
to profit by fine evenings, and try to find for themselves these
constellations in the sky.
We have here the principal stars and constellations of the Northern
Hemisphere, the North Pole being at the centre of the circle. We come
now in the order of our description to the twelve constellations of
the zodiacal belt, which makes the circuit of the sky, inclined at
23° to the Equator, and of which the ecliptic, the apparent path of
the sun, forms the centre line.
The name of zodiac, given to the zone of stars which the sun
traverses during the course of the year, comes from ζώδια,
_animals_, an etymology which is due to the species of figures
traced on this belt of stars. Animals, in fact, predominate in these
figures. The entire circumference of the sky has been divided into
twelve parts, which have been named the twelve signs of the zodiac;
our ancestors called them the “houses of the sun,” or “the monthly
abodes of Apollo,” because the day star visits them each month, and
returns every spring to the beginning of the zodiacal city. Two
memorable Latin verses of the poet Ausonius present to us these
twelve signs in the order in which the sun travels through them, and
this still appears the easiest method of learning them by heart.
Sunt _Aries_, _Taurus_, _Gemini_, _Cancer_, _Leo_, _Virgo_,
_Libraque_, _Scorpius_, _Arciteneus_, _Caper_, _Amphora_, _Pisces_;
or, in English, the Ram ♈︎, the Bull ♉︎, the Twins ♊︎, the Crab
♋︎, the Lion ♌︎, the Virgin ♍︎, the Balance ♎︎, the Scorpion ♏︎,
the Archer ♐︎, Capricornus ♑︎, Aquarius ♒︎, and the Fishes ♓︎. The
signs placed beside these names are a vestige of the primitive
hieroglyphics which described them: ♈︎ represents the horns of the
Ram, ♉︎ the head of the Bull; ♒︎ is a stream of water, etc.
If we now know our northern sky, if its most important stars are
sufficiently noted down in our mind, with the reciprocal relations
which they preserve among themselves, we have no more confusion to
fear, and it will be easy to recognize the zodiacal constellations.
This zone may be of use to us as a line of division between the north
and the south. Here is a description of it:
The Ram, which, moving in front of the herd, and regulating, so to
say, the march, opens the series. This constellation has in itself
nothing remarkable; the brightness of its stars indicates the
base of one of the horns of the leader of the sheep; it is but of
the second magnitude. After the _Ram_ comes the Bull. Admire on a
fine winter’s night the charming Pleiades which scintillate in the
ether; not far from them shines a fine red star—this is the _eye_
of the Bull—Aldebaran, a star of the first magnitude and one of
the finest of our sky. We now arrive at the Twins, whose heads are
marked by two fine stars of the second magnitude, situated a little
above a star of the first magnitude—_Procyon_, or the Little Dog;
_Cancer_, or the Crab, a constellation very little conspicuous (its
most visible stars are but of the fourth magnitude, and occupy the
body of the animal); the _Lion_, a fine constellation, marked by a
star of the first magnitude, _Regulus_, by one of the second, β,
and by several others of the second and third magnitudes arranged
in a trapezium; the _Virgin_, indicated by a very brilliant star
of the first magnitude; _Spica_, situated in the neighborhood
of a star, also of the first magnitude, Arcturus, which is found
on the prolongation of the tail of the Great Bear; the _Balance_
(Libra), indicated by two stars of the second magnitude, which
would exactly resemble the Twins if they were nearer to each
other; the _Scorpion_, a remarkable constellation; a star of the
first magnitude, of a fine red color, marks the _Heart_ (Antares),
in the middle of two stars of the third magnitude, above which
are three bright stars arranged in a diadem; _Sagittarius_, the
Archer, of which the arrow, indicated by three stars of the
second and third magnitudes, is pointed toward the tail of the
Scorpion; _Capricornus_, a constellation not conspicuous, which
is recognized by two stars of the third magnitude very near each
other, and representing the base of the horns of the hieroglyphic
animal; _Aquarius_, indicated by three stars of the third magnitude
arranged in a triangle, of which the most northern occupies a
point on the equator; _Pisces_, the _Fishes_, composed of stars,
barely conspicuous, of the third to fourth magnitudes, situated to
the south of a large and magnificent quadrilateral—the Square of
Pegasus—of which we have already spoken.
We have now enumerated the zodiacal constellations in the order of
the direct motion (from west to east) of the sun, moon, and planets
which traverse them. They marked at the epoch of their formation,
the monthly passage of the sun into each of them. The distribution
of the stars in figurative groups was the first truly hieroglyphical
writing; it was engraved on the firmament in indelible characters.