THE PARADE OF THE ZENITH CONSTELLATIONS
LEO, THE LION
[Figure 45]
ABOUT 9 o'clock on the 8th of April, a large, bright sickle passes near
the zenith. This sickle lies just south of the Big Dipper and is a
clearly defined figure among the other designs which decorate the sky
during the early spring.
[Figure 46]
Truly, this is a strange symbol to see emblazoned in the heavens; has it
too a story? Indeed, yes; this cluster of stars is the Sickle of Leo and
lies on the head of the fierce Nemean lion which came from the moon and
which was later killed by Hercules and transferred to the starry sky.
The lion's head rests in the curve of the figure; his shaggy neck on the
short straight line and his heart beneath the bright star on the end.
[Figure 47]
Not far away lies the rest of this brave creature with another bright
star on the tuft of his tail. Drawn together, the sickle and the
triangle now suggest a very dignified lion, although in the old star
atlases he is pictured as a very ferocious lion transfixed in a moment
of action.
Note well this curious sickle-shaped figure beneath the bowl of the Big
Dipper. We will take this figure just at present, as a leader,
while calling attention to the oddly assorted but interestingly
assembled groups of stars which follow Leo in a widely curved path near
the dome of the heavens, from the far northeast to the far northwest.
[Figure 48]
These groups appear one by one like a line of floats pulled up over the
horizon; then drawn in a glittering procession toward the west. Each
evening they appear farther along in their journey westward,--a pageant
far distant in the darkness yet visible by the gleaming of its lights.
Closely following Leo, the Leader, is a representation in faint golden
starlight of Queen Berenice's Hair; next the lovely orange-yellow star,
Arcturus, on the dim kite-shaped figure of Boötes, the Herdsman; then a
crown of star gems which belonged to Ariadne, daughter of an ancient
king of Crete; a huge giant called Hercules; the golden Lyre with which
Apollo raised the walls of Troy and Orpheus charmed the souls in Hades;
and last, but not least, a large and beautiful Cross.
The Lion disappears behind the western "bulge of the world" during the
early summer, although the last of the procession, the great Cross borne
on the back of Cygnus, the Swan, does not even reach the meridian--the
line midway between east and west--until September. Some of these groups
are also seen later than October, but at that time their splendor is
dimmed by the gorgeous winter constellations in the southeast.
According to the classic legend of the Greeks, Leo was the celebrated
Nemean Lion which Hercules killed as the first of the Twelve Labors
which were imposed upon him by his cousin Eurystheus, who was king of the
Perseidæ only through priority of birth. This lion was the largest and
fiercest lion in the world with a skin so invulnerable that no arrow had
ever succeeded in even denting it. The huge beast was also so
rapacious that it was fast annihilating all the inhabitants of Nemea,
which was the ancient name of the deep valley of Argolis. Hercules had
no trouble in tracking the lion through the valley, which was only two
or three miles long and half a mile broad, and easily found its den.
Rushing in, he barricaded the opening, grasped the lion by the throat
and after a terrific struggle, crushed the beast in his arms. Ever after
he wore the tough, impenetrable skin as a covering for his own defense.
The Nemean games, one of the national festivals of the Greeks, are
believed to have been founded by Hercules after his victory over the
Nemean lion. There is some evidence that there was a lion traced among
the stars before the time of Hercules, but, if so, the Greeks erased the
impression and substituted their own lion in its stead.
Leo, the Nemean lion in stars, is seen at his best during the early
evenings of March, April, May and June, although he makes his first
appearance on the 4th of March when, just as the sun sets in the west,
his tail rises above the eastern horizon. In April he is at his highest
point in his path across the sky, lying just to the south and below the
bowl of the Big Dipper.
[Figure 49]
On the end of the handle of the Sickle shines Regulus, also called Cor
Leonis which means "The Heart of the Lion." Regulus sends out 300 times
as much light as our sun, but is so far away that it takes 99 years for
its light to reach us. This star rises in the northeast at twilight on
the 15th of February and crosses the meridian at 8 o'clock on April
23rd.
One generally thinks of stars as being bright and gay, but Regulus has a
companion which is somber and so unusual in its appearance as compared
with other stars that it was described by Winlock, its discoverer, as if
"steeped in indigo." Later it was found that this oddly colored
star also has a companion which makes Regulus a triple star.
The second star above Regulus is also interesting. This star is a
beautiful double described in such refreshing terms as "golden-orange"
and "bronze-green." It may be seen in a medium sized telescope. Later we
will become acquainted with a wonderful red star which also has a green
companion. Such combinations are most amazing to gaze upon.
The second brightest star adorning Leo is Denebola, which flashes on the
end of his tail. Denebola is 10 times as bright as our sun and is 25
light years away. Since Regulus, on the heart of the Lion, is 99 light
years distant and Denebola, on the tail of the Lion, is only 25 light
years, science has certainly played havoc with the poor Nemean lion.
Proctor tells us that Coma Berenices (Berenice's Hair) was originally
the tuft of the tail of the lion when the constellation was pictured in
the maps as being more extended. This was quite an appropriate place for
the sparkles and gleams of these fine, tiny stars. It is likely that it
would have still been the tuft on the Lion's tail if a clever
Alexandrian astronomer had not found it necessary to use his wits
quickly and call it Berenice's Hair to please the vanity of an Egyptian
Queen.
The apparent center for the November meteors, or "shooting stars," which
appear about the 15th of the month, are within the curve of the Sickle
of Leo near the star Gamma.
[Figure 50]
The apparent paths of shooting stars when projected backward meet at a
point called the radiant point. It looks from the diagram as if these
meteors all came from one fixed place in the sky but the effect would
also be the same if we saw, for instance, seventeen trains racing along
seventeen tracks laid parallel across a desert from a point on the
distant horizon. They would all seem to start from this point and widen
out as they approached the observer, the effect in perspective, the
widening apart from a point, being the same in the case of the meteors
speeding along parallel lines in space. We see only those meteors, of
course, which become caught and ignited in the atmosphere surrounding
the earth and which streak down the sky all aflame; the rest pass on
their way, invisible. Of this more will be said later under the heading
of "Comets and Meteors."
The "Leonids," as these November meteors are called, are only seen in
the early morning hours on the 15th of November, while the "Andromids,"
which have their radiant point in Andromeda, are only seen in the early
part of the evening on the 24th of November.
The famous Leonid meteors of 1833 dropped down so fast and thick that it
seemed that all the stars in the heavens were falling down on the earth.
This unique spectacle occurred again in 1866, and records show that, for
a thousand years back, at intervals of every 33 years, we have been
visited by such a "star shower." The first disappointment came in 1899,
just as the general public, probably for the first time, was looking
forward to it with a great deal of pleasurable anticipation. Will we
again be disappointed in 1932? Although the earth passes across the
pathway of these meteors every year, it is believed that along a certain
section of the pathway the meteors are strung in thick profusion. It is
through such a portion, literally studded with the fragments, that the
earth rolls every 33 years, although it is not known for a certainty
why, after all these years, we failed to see a display in 1899.
A small "dark" constellation called Cancer, the Crab, lies just in front
of Leo, the Lion. Although this constellation has been pointed out since
very ancient times, and holds an important position in the zodiac, it
does not contain a single conspicuous star and could scarcely be located
in the sky, were it not for a faintly shining spot of light about the
size of the Pleiades. This spot of light is a coarse cluster of 7th
and 8th magnitude stars, resolvable by an opera-glass and easily located
by a little star on either side. In the mythology of Greece, this
constellation represents the gigantic sea-crab which Juno sent to bite
the toes of Hercules when he was struggling in the marshes with the
hundred-headed hydra. Naturally, Hercules stamped his foot down on the
petty annoyance, which so offended Juno that she set the creature among
the stars.
It is the "misty spot," however, that has always attracted the eyes of
men. The Chaldeans thought that the dim light came from a hole in the
floor of heaven, and that it could be no other than the "gate of men"
through which souls descended into human bodies. It has also been
regarded as the Manger in which Christ was born and the stars on either
side were called Aselli, or Little Asses.
[Figure 51]
The "Manger" is now known to hold 363 telescopic stars, and is
historically interesting because it afforded one of the earliest
telescopic proofs that there were hosts of stars in the heavens besides
those visible to the unaided eye. Galileo, who first resolved its light
into stars, was able to count forty small stars in this spot, and his
telescope was no better than the field-glass of today, if we may indeed
make such a comparison.
In ancient times, Præsepe, the Manger, was an infallible weather sign,
for if there was the slightest moisture in the air, its faint light was
invisible. If the moisture was not sufficient to also obscure the two
stars on either side, only light showers of rain might be expected, but
if the two stars were also hidden, there would be a very bad storm. If
the two stars and the Manger were all three seen clearly, one could
depend on the weather not to spoil any plans for that particular
evening.
"When shine the Bears, and 'twixt the asses seen,
though faint, their Manger, ocean proves serene."
--_Idylliums of Theocritus_ (FAWKE'S _Trans._)
In the days of Aratus, 270 B. C., this advice as to how to judge the
weather by means of the tiny cloud on the back of Cancer, the Crab, was
taken so seriously that he gave it in quite extensive detail in his poem
_Phenomena_:
"Watch, too, the Manger. Like a faint mist in the far North it plays the
guide between Cancer. Around it are borne two faintly gleaming stars,
not very far apart, nor very near but distant to the view a cubit's
length, one on the North, while the other looks toward the South. They
are called the Asses and between them is the Manger. On a sudden when
all the sky is clear, the Manger wholly disappears, while all the stars
that go on either side seem drawn to one another: not slight then is the
storm, with which the fields are deluged. If the Manger darken and both
stars remain unaltered, they herald rain. But if the Ass to the North of
the Manger shine feebly through a faint mist, while the Southern Ass is
gleaming bright, expect a wind from the South: but if in turn the
Southern Ass is cloudy and the Northern bright, watch for the North
Wind."
--_English trans._, by G. R. MAIR.
In English folklore, Præsepe is called the Beehive, although this name
was likely given it after telescopes were invented and it was seen that
the dim light was resolved into a multitude of little flecks, like a
hive of golden bees.
Præsepe passes the meridian about 9 P. M. on March 15th or 2 o'clock A.
M. on the morning of January 1st. It is best seen on a clear night when
the moon is absent from the sky, and a glass of any kind will make it
more interesting.
Both the Crab and the Hydra, who also has a constellation in the sky,
are quaint ways of commemorating the adventures of Hercules, but his
fierce Nemean lion is the most important just at this instant, so on
with the line of floats!
BERENICE'S HAIR
[Figure 52]
The name of Coma Berenices,--Berenice's Hair,--was derived from an
Egyptian fable which dates back as far as the 3rd century B. C. Before
this time, the constellation was the tuft on the tail of Leo, the Lion.
Thus we find Præsepe, an interesting cluster of stars, just in front of
Leo, and Coma Berenices, an equally interesting cluster, just behind
him. These two clusters are among the very few clusters that may be
located with the unaided eye.
Coma Berenices is most clearly visible on a dark night almost overhead
in the early evenings of May. With an effect like 90 minute stars
scattered on velvet, these stars are quite unlike anything else in the
heavens that is visible without optical aid.
Astronomers have found that many of the stars in this constellation are
of a delicate lilac color. These lilac stars are often the companions of
other stars, forming such lovely color combinations as orange and lilac,
white and lilac and blue and lilac, although these double stars are not
easy to locate in this thick sprinkling of stars without the help of a
telescope with an equatorial mounting and graduated circles. One wonders
what it would be like to have a lilac sun as a source of light, and what
would be the psychological reaction on generations of beings brought up
under pale lights, mauve mists and shadowy purples. There seems to be a
slight difference in even the general characteristics of our earthly
folks when those who live in a land of perpetual sunshine are compared
with those who live in a city smothered in murky fogs.
The telescope has also discovered in Coma Berenices the rare sight of
over 100 nebulæ drawn together in a close group. We say a "close
group," but these nebulæ only look crowded to us because they lie
at such an unthinkable distance from our solar system.
[Figure 53]
An ancient story, current 246 B. C., relates that this constellation was
named after the beautiful hair of Berenice, Queen of Euergetes, one of
the Ptolemies of Egypt. The husband of this Queen had gone to Assyria on
a dangerous campaign and, grieving over his delay in returning, the
Queen vowed to cut off her long locks of hair and consecrate it to the
gods in the temple of Venus, if he might only come back to Egypt safe
and victorious.
Not long after this great sacrifice had been determined upon, Euergetes
returned and the Queen cut off her tresses and hung them in the temple
of the goddess. But that same night the hair was stolen! Conon, the
royal astronomer of Alexandria, however, in his goodness of heart and
thinking to protect the guardians of the temple from their majesties'
displeasure, stepped forward and declared that Venus had so appreciated
such love as possessed by this faithful Queen that she had caught up the
strands of beautiful hair and laid them in the heavens.
[Figure 54]
All looked toward the spot at which the astronomer pointed, and, sure
enough, there lay near Leo a group of fine stars which shone like the
mist on a woman's hair! Thus the guardians were saved, the husband
appeased and the astounded Queen Berenice flattered and satisfied.
The Lion, Leo, however, was now obliged to change the position of his
tail and instead of having it extended and brightened with this
sprinkling of delicate stars, he was forced to draw it back and
curl it behind the light of Denebola, where it has since remained.
BOÖTES, THE HERDSMAN
[Figure 55]
The brilliant golden-yellow star, Arcturus, has always been a favorite
among star-gazers.
[Figure 56]
This star hangs like a great globe of tinted light from the end of a
curve drawn from the Big Dipper's handle and is one of the first stars
to appear during the summer evenings.
Two earthly honors have been given Arcturus which are well worth noting.
In the excess of their great admiration, the Egyptian people in ancient
times oriented huge temples to it at the cost of tremendous labor; it
was also given special mention in the Bible.
Up near the Arctic circle, this lovely star never sets, but travels in a
wide circular path above the horizon. Allen remarks on its use as
timepiece for the seal-netters during the night fishing in December and
January. The netters judge the time by the position of the star on the
four points of the compass, in much the same manner that the Big Dipper
is used for a clock as it swings around the pole. The heavens would
appear rather strange to us as viewed from the far north for Polaris
would rest almost at the zenith and the Big Dipper with its handle
weighted down by Arcturus, would seem to encircle the sky above the
earth on an unfamiliar pathway.
Boötes, the constellation in which Arcturus lies, is usually described
as forming a kite-shaped figure of stars, which though faint,
covers a great deal of sky. Boötes, as mentioned before, was a herdsman
who invented the plow, and as a reward for this ingenious method of
tilling the soil, was raised to a position below the stars of the Big
Dipper. But according to another story, Boötes represents Arcas, the
son of Callisto, whom Juno so cruelly turned into a bear. In modern days
this legend seems to have been given preference for, during the
seventeenth century, Helvetius invented the Hunting Dogs, the
constellation of Canes Venatici, and the huge figure of Boötes has
since been usually pictured on the star maps as holding two lively dogs
in leash. These Dogs are interposed between Boötes and Ursa Major.
Although the Hunting Dogs have no mythology, the two constellations are
thus united in a common picture and Boötes and his dogs are said to be
chasing the Bear.
"Boötes leading his hunting dogs over the zenith in the leash of
sidereal fire."
--_CARLYLE._
In Ovid's version of the legend, the hunter was placed in the sky just
as he was and not first metamorphosed into a bear and hung on the Pole
Star as Ursa Minor. Not recognizing his mother in the form of Ursa
Major, Boötes keeps on pursuing her in an eternal chase about the Pole.
He is thus often called "The Watcher of the Bear" or "The Bear Driver."
Those who choose to consider Callisto's son, Areas, as having been
metamorphosed into a bear and hung on the pole of the heavens may then
consider Boötes as representing the herdsman who invented the plow.
The two Hunting Dogs, "Asterion" and "Chara," now held enchained by
Boötes, form the constellation Canes Venatici, which lies just below
the handle of the Big Dipper and above Arcturus and Berenice's Hair. The
collar of the hunting dog Chara is marked by the star Cor Carolli, which
means "Charles' Heart" and was named in memory of Charles I by
Halley, the English astronomer, on the suggestion of the Court
Physician, Sir Charles Scarborough.
[Figure 57]
This star is an attractive double as viewed in a small telescope with
the delicate colorings of "flushed white and lilac." On the head of
Asterion lies the famous whirlpool nebula, although this may only be
seen in a large telescope. This nebula has its great arms of nebulous
material flung widely into space and looks as if it were whirling
rapidly about, but the motion, if any, is too slow for us really to see.
With a few exceptions most of the spiral nebulæ are so very distant
that they may only be seen through a very large telescope, but next to
the stars, they are the most abundant objects in all the sky and are of
great interest to astronomers.
Arcturus, the beautiful first magnitude star which glows so
conspicuously in the constellation of Boötes, is, however, the main
source of interest in these star groups. The star is popular for its
appearance alone, for it is large and richly golden, and always easily
located, but it is also of interest in a scientific way, for it has been
found to be an extremely huge and glorious sun. Our sun placed at the
same distance--145 millions of millions of miles--would shine as a faint
and almost invisible star, yet Arcturus is so much larger than our sun
that it drifts across our sky like a bowl of light.
Arcturus is not only one of the largest but it is also one of the
swiftest moving stars in the heavens. It moves so swiftly that it covers
100 miles in every second. This speed has caused it to be labeled a
"runaway star." Although this star shoots through space at such an
incredible rate of speed it has taken it _800 years_ to describe a space
(as seen by our eyes) equal to the apparent diameter of the moon. This
may give the reader some slight realization of the vast distance which
separates us from Arcturus. But astronomers write it this way--"It
has taken _only 800 years_ for Arcturus to describe a space equal to the
apparent diameter of the moon," for the stars are so very distant that
most of them do not seem to change their places in the heavens even in
the course of many thousands of years.
Amazing as the speed of Arcturus appeared to astronomers, they later
discovered a star of the 8th magnitude in the southern hemisphere with
even a greater proper motion. This star has moved the distance of the
diameter of the moon in _220 years_, which means that it moves over a
hundred times faster than the average star. But the late Professor
Barnard of the Yerkes Observatory had the distinction of discovering a
star with the largest proper motion known. The average star does not
exceed one minute of arc in a thousand years but Professor Barnard's
"runaway star" has the amazing proper motion of 10.3 seconds a year. In
that length of time it travels twice as far as the average star does in
a century!
Scientists accomplish many wonderful, and most remarkable, deeds. Even
the heroes who lived in the vivid minds of the ancient peoples dwindle
into insignificance beside these men with their calm patience and
brilliant seeking minds.
"These mathematic men have thoughts that march
From sphere to sphere and measure out the blue
Of infinite space like roods of garden ground."
--_Blackie._
Professor Michelson has now invented a new method of measuring the
angular diameter of the more distant stars. This is by means of an
instrument called the "interferometer" which is attached to the 100-inch
reflector of the Mount Wilson Observatory. Measurements of the angular
diameter of Arcturus with the interferometer combined with the knowledge
of its distance give us the astounding size of 19,000,000 miles for
the diameter of this huge sun.
Henderson, in 1840, was the first astronomer to make a successful
measurement of the distance to a star. The trigonometric method such as
surveyors use to find the distance to the far side of a river was
employed for this and with a baseline and angles he reached out and
touched the nearest stars.
The baseline of a triangle whose apex touched a star which lay millions
of millions of miles away would have to be very long indeed--and a very
delicate and difficult task to handle it. Where in the world could one
find such a baseline? Certainly not on the earth! A line extending from
one side to the other of our earth would not even be as large as a point
of light as seen from a star. Indeed when the moon was measured, and the
moon lies only 240,000 miles away, astronomers used a baseline which
extended from America all the way to France. The exceedingly clever idea
of taking the earth's orbit as a baseline then suggested itself, and
focussing upon a star at an interval of six months when the earth is at
the two ends of the diameter of its immense orbit around the sun.
[Figure 58]
The angle between the baseline and the line of sight to the star may be
noted in the summertime, for instance, and then again in the winter. The
shift of the star on the heavens caused by the observer changing his
place from one side of the sun to the other gives the parallax angle of
the star, which is the angle between the two sight lines of the observer
where they meet at the star. If the star is distant more than 500
billion miles this shift cannot be measured with any confidence for at
900 or 1000 billion miles, the star ceases to show any displacement.
When a star is near enough to be measured by this trigonometric method
it seems to describe a minute ellipse "like a reflection of the ellipse
of the earth's orbit." If it lies so far in space that it does not
seem to change its position even when viewed from stations on either
side of the earth's orbit, its distance may never be measured by using
the diameter of the earth's orbit as a baseline.
Even the near stars are so very distant that their displacement is
almost imperceptible. The parallax (or the apparent angular shifting
caused by the changed position of the observer) of Alpha Centauri, our
nearest star, would have, says Professor Moulton, the same difference in
direction as a point of light 11 miles from the observer viewed with one
eye and then the other, with the difficulties of observation extended
over several months.
But to return to Arcturus. This beautiful golden star is called the
"harbinger of spring" because it rises on the first of March just as the
flowers of this season are awakening along the brooks and hillsides.
Watch for it about 8 P. M. just a little north of east. At this point it
is at its very best for the thickened atmosphere near the horizon fires
the orange-yellow to a molten rose, while the flickering and the dancing
causes burning waves of crimson, sparks of opal and glints of gold. It
reaches the meridian June 8th about 9 P. M. but its eager, splintering
light is now calmed to a steady glow and the star hangs like a golden
lamp above the world. From July to December, this splendid star floats
lower and lower through the western part of the heavens until it touches
the horizon in the northwest and disappears.
THE NORTHERN CROWN
[Figure 59]
The Northern Crown really looks like a crown. Its outline is easily
traced, although its stars are delicate with the exception of one
which is much larger and brighter than the others. It closely follows
Arcturus and is best seen during the early evenings of July when it is
floating high in the dome of the heavens, a most fascinating star
figure.
Long ago, in some of the old countries, people saw in this "Crown" the
likeness to a broken plate held out by a beggar to receive alms; the
Pawnee Indians imagined it a camp circle of warriors sitting in council
around their camp fire and that the bright star was a servant preparing
a feast over the fire; the Australian natives called it the "boomerang,"
but in Greek mythology this is the crown which Bacchus gave the
beautiful Ariadne after she had been deserted by Theseus, King of
Athens, on the island of Naxos which lay far out to sea.
According to a later legend, from which the Crown obtained its name, a
yearly tribute of seven youths and maidens was exacted from the
Athenians by the tyrant Minos, King of the Island of Crete. These
Athenian captives were then rowed over from Greece to Crete and confined
in a labyrinth as a feast for a ferocious Minotaur. This labyrinth had
been constructed by Dædalus, a most ingenious artist and artificer, who
had so perfected the intricate maze of passageways that neither the
Minotaur, nor any of his victims, could possibly escape.
Theseus, son of Ægeus, the king of Athens, grieved deeply at the fate
of so many innocent sufferers, and thinking that he might be able to
overcome the monster, bravely offered himself as one of the seven
youths. When Ariadne, daughter of the wicked King Minos, saw the
handsome Prince arrive among those to be sacrificed, she was filled with
love and pity and risked her own life by secretly furnishing him with a
strong sword and a long thread. Theseus then attacked the Minotaur and
slew him, afterwards extricating himself from the difficult windings of
the labyrinth by means of the thread. He and Ariadne then slipped down
to his vessel which had remained anchored in the harbor and set
sail for Athens.
On his homeward journey the goddess Minerva appeared to Theseus and told
him that he must leave Ariadne at Naxos, an island celebrated for its
vineyards, for the Fates had decreed that she should not go with him to
Athens. Such barbarous conduct on the part of Theseus must have been
past all understanding to poor Ariadne. Ræ has painted a very beautiful
picture of her as she sits by the rocks on the sea-shore sadly gazing
out to sea, for she was a very sweet girl and not at all like her wicked
father. But Theseus suffered also for his seemingly heartless desertion,
for he had promised his father, Ægeus, that if he succeeded in subduing
the Minotaur he would exchange his black sail for a white one. With one
thing and another happening, Theseus forgot to change his sail, and the
poor old man watching the black wing loom in the distance, supposed his
son to be lost, and threw himself into the sea. This sea was henceforth
called the Ægean Sea in memory of the tragic fate of Ægeus. In the
meantime Bacchus, the God of the Vineyards, came along decked in ivy and
vine leaves, and discovered the forsaken Ariadne asleep on a rock, worn
out with sorrow and weeping.
[Figure 60]
The god was so captivated by the beauty of the Cretan maid that he did
everything in his power to make her forget her unhappiness, even
marrying her and promising at her death to give her a place among the
gods. He then suspended her wedding crown in the sky, where it still
hangs, although its jewels have grown so large that they resemble stars.
These stars are now called the "Northern Crown" though they are really
"A brilliant sign of the lost Ariadne."
--_Aratus._
Spenser pointing them out in his _Faerie Queene_ says
"Look! how the crowne which Ariadne wore
Upon her ivory forehead--
--is unto the starres an ornament,
Which round her move in order excellent."
Ariadne's Crown rests about 20 degrees east of Arcturus and may be
easily seen in the east just after sunset during the early spring, about
the 8th of April, but it is at its best during the early evenings of
July when it is almost overhead.
Alphecca, "the bright one," also called "The Pearl," marks the radiant
point of a shower of meteors called the Coronids. This shower occurs
while the constellation is traveling between the east and the zenith,
being visible from April 12th to June 20th.
The Crown remains in view from April until late October, then disappears
between the west and northwest. It lies concealed throughout the winter,
then rises in the direct northeast in the early spring, its jewels
sparkling as if they had been encased in a winter's casket of snow.
This beautiful little constellation is designated on the maps as Corona
Borealis. The "Northern Crown" and "Ariadne's Crown" are only popular
names.
HERCULES, THE GIANT
[Figure 61]
An astronomical work of Eudoxus, dated about 370 B. C., but based upon
observations made probably by the Chaldeans fifteen centuries before,
was versified in a poem of 732 verses called "Phenomena" by Aratus, the
court poet of Macedonia, who wrote about a century after Eudoxus' time.
Aratus mentions this constellation of Hercules as being of
immemorial antiquity and describes it as a figure of a man in sorrow
with his hands upraised and stretched "one this way and one that, a
fathom's length." In the early days of the world's history it was called
"The Kneeler" although even this was not supposed to be its original
name. Aratus says--
"Right there in its orbit wheels a Phantom form, like to a man that
strives at a task. That sign no man knows how to read clearly, nor on
what task he is bent, but simply calls him On His Knees."
--_Trans. by_ G. R. MAIR.
"On His Knees" was given the name of the hero Hercules when the Greeks
placed their heroes and divinities among the stars, but his pictures in
the modern maps do not seem to accord with the description of his
posture in this ancient poem. His foot now rests upon Draco, the Sky
Dragon, which probably is here imagined as old Laden, the sleepless
dragon which once coiled around the tree of golden apples.
Hercules, the great grandson of Perseus, was the greatest of all the
heroes. He possessed every high quality of mind and character and was
endowed with such great physical strength that his life was filled with
constant adventure. Armed with a huge club, he performed the most
remarkable deeds, the most wonderful of these being his "Twelve Labors."
Some of these labors or adventures were so thrilling that the Greeks
named constellations in honor of them as well as of the hero, and they
have ever since been proverbs among men. There are many allusions to
these throughout literature--
"Thogh I had hadde--al the strengthe of Ercules."
--_CHAUCER._
Leo, who leads the zenith constellations across the sky, was the same
ferocious lion which Hercules encountered and killed in the valley
of Nemea; he also killed the Crab now in Cancer, and the hundred-headed
Hydra whose constellation is seen in the south from March to June. Some
writers see in Sagitta, the Arrow; Aquila and Cygnus, the Birds; Draco,
the Dragon and other constellations, memorials of the adventures of
Hercules.
This huge giant gave promise of a career while very young. When no more
than eight months old, two monstrous snakes appeared and pushed their
hissing heads between the bars of his cradle. Springing to his feet, he
seized the reptiles by their necks, strangled them and threw them dead
at the feet of his terror-stricken parents.
"The mighty infant showed them to his sire,
And smil'd to see the wreathing snakes expire;"
--_Idylliums of Theocritus_ (FAWKE'S _Trans._)
When Hercules grew to manhood his cousin, who ruled the Perseidæ,
commanded him to perform ten difficult tasks, which were later increased
to twelve. Hercules was at first unwilling to obey but the oracle at
Delphi informed him that he would become an immortal hero if he
performed the tasks, and afterwards be given a just reward. For a while
Hercules was so despondent that he eventually became mad, but finally
throwing off his depression, he accomplished all he set out to do with
such cleverness and foresight and with exhibitions of such amazing
strength, that not only did the gods carry him up to Mount Olympus after
his death but gave him as a wife the lovely cupbearer, Hebe. His
gigantic figure is now among the stars and many of the creatures in his
adventures have been placed far above the earth in honored positions in
the heavens. Let us now go back for a moment and review some of these
awe-inspiring accomplishments of Hercules.
The lion and the hydra have already been mentioned. The watersnake
was particularly difficult to kill for it possessed the distressing
faculty of being able to immediately grow two living heads in the place
of each one destroyed, thus increasing not only the snake but the number
of poisonous fangs. This seemingly insurmountable difficulty was finally
overcome when Hercules thought of searing each stump with a hot iron as
soon as it was severed, thus killing the root from which the head was
born. As seen on his constellation in the sky, this watersnake is more
conspicuous for length than for his number of heads, for his faint
starry outline covers one-fourth of the southern heavens and takes four
months in passing any one place. It was during the struggle with this
creature that Juno induced the crab to crawl out of the swamp and seize
the mighty giant's toes, afterward placing the crab on the Dark Sign,
Cancer, which lies just west of Leo.
The eleventh Labor of Hercules was the obtaining of the three golden
apples from the Garden of the Hesperides. The location of these gardens,
according to most versions of the story, was to the west of Mount Atlas
where this most rare and delightful tree was guarded by a dragon and the
four nieces of Atlas. Atlas, who knew best where to find the apples,
offered to obtain them for Hercules if he would hold up the heavens
while he was gone. Nothing daunted Hercules, so,
"The wearied Atlas he relieved,
His arm the starry realms upheaved,
And propped the Gods above."
--_Euripides._
In the meantime Atlas went to the garden and got the apples from his
nieces. But according to another myth, Hercules went himself and stole
the apples, after slaying the dragon that guarded them. It is to be
noted that in the constellations Hercules has been placed in a decidedly
uncomfortable position so that he might rest his foot upon the Sky
Dragon, Draco--so perhaps Draco, after all, was the monster that
was wound around that wondrous apple tree.
There is also a possibility that the sixth Labor of Hercules has been
memorialized in the sky although the weight of evidence is against it.
In his sixth Labor, Hercules destroyed the cruel carnivorous birds with
the arrows he had dipped in the blood of the poisonous hydra. These
birds, which had brazen wings, beaks and claws, hovered over the
stagnant waters of Lake Stymphalus, in Arcadia, and ravaged all the
surrounding country. This praiseworthy deed may have been represented in
the sky by the "bird" constellations, Cygnus, Lyra and Aquila, which
hover near the stream of the Milky Way, and in the little arrow Sagitta,
which lies not far away, but it is more than likely, according to the
majority of the myths, that these constellations were named in honor of
other things rather than to commemorate the deeds of Hercules.
Among other exploits which illustrate the unrivaled prowess of this
hero, are his battles with giants, monsters and centaurs; catching
Diana's brazen-footed stag by driving it deep into a snowdrift in the
distant northland; obtaining the girdle of Hippolyta, Queen of the
Amazons, in the land of women; capturing boars, bulls, mares and even
bringing from the infernal regions the three-headed dog Cerberus.
The greatest demonstration of his strength, aside from the time that he
upheld the heavens for Atlas, is reported by the historian Pliny.
According to the myth which Pliny relates, Hercules had rent asunder the
rocks which had previously divided the Mediterranean from the ocean;
although another legend takes the opposite view and asserts that he had
narrowed the strait in order to exclude the sea-monsters which had
hitherto forced their way in from the ocean. This gateway, known as the
"Pillars of Hercules," consists of two promontories which bounded the
western horizon of the then known world. The promontory on the
northern side of the straits is now called the "Rock of Gibraltar."
Hercules one day donned a tunic that had been steeped in the blood of a
Centaur which he had slain with a poisoned arrow. To escape the terrible
torture, he erected a funeral pyre on Mount Etna, lay down on his lion's
skin and set the pyre on fire. Amid peals of thunder Jupiter descended
in his chariot and carried the hero to Mount Olympus where he was given
his promised reward.
"High o'er the hollow clouds the coursers fly,
And lodged the hero in the starry sky."
As seen in the sky, Hercules kneels on Draco, the Dragon, with his head
lying downward near the head of the giant Ophiuchus. These two giants
cover a vast amount of sky space although neither one have very bright
stars. Although Hercules rests inactive, Ophiuchus, one notes, is busily
engaged, for his limbs are enfolded by the scaly body of a huge serpent
"his right hand, its writhing tail, he grasps,
Its swelling neck, his left hand securely clasps,
The reptile rears its crested head on high
Reaching the seven-starred Crown in northern sky."
In the meantime
"His feet stamp Scorpio down, enormous beast,
Crushing the monster's eye and plated breast."
--_Aratus._
And we gaze with admiration as Aratus describes this struggle which
seems by all odds to be against the giant.
Ophiuchus perpetuates the memory of Æsculapius, father of medicine. He
and his serpent, as seen in the sky, are exceedingly hard to trace but
men also sought to do him honor on earth by erecting temples in
which he was worshiped. The brightest star in the constellation of
Ophiuchus, the Serpent Bearer, is Ras Alhague, although this name has
gone entirely out of use and the star is generally designated as α
Ophiuchi.
[Figure 62]
This star lies on the head of Ophiuchus which is about three-quarters of
the way up from the horizon to the zenith, when on the meridian. It
rises a little north of east, appearing When the sun sets on the 14th of
May, and requiring 6 hours and 46 minutes to reach the line midway
between east and west. Ras Algethi (α Herculis), a beautiful orange
colored star on the head of Hercules, is usually noted in connection
with Ras Alhague, since they stand rather isolated only about 6 degrees
apart. (The distance between the "Pointers" on the outer side of the Big
Dipper is equal to 5 degrees.) When Ras Algethi and Ras Alhague are near
the meridian, a glance of the eye beyond will meet two stars of the 2nd
magnitude also not far apart. These are "The Dragon's Eyes," Alwaid and
Etanin. Recalling that Hercules has his foot on the Dragon's head, that
the head stars of the two giants' lie almost together, and the feet of
the lower giant, Ophiuchus, are crushing down Scorpio, the Scorpion (a
conspicuous anchor shaped constellation in the south), one has a fairly
good idea of this section of the sky from the Pole Star to the horizon,
when Ras Alhague and Ras Algethi are near the meridian. Since both
Hercules and Ophiuchus have very large but also very inconspicuous
constellations, it is well to keep them connected in some such manner.
In modern days the constellation of Hercules has gained in interest
through observations made by the telescope. Unfortunately the ancients
were not privileged to see its gayly colored double stars and its
marvelously beautiful star cluster.
[Figure 63]
Among the double stars, Young mentions an orange and blue, and a white
and emerald green; the Rev. T. W. Webb points out one almost
appetizingly attractive in its light apple green and cherry red while
Serviss notes some charming combinations--orange and green, pale green
and purple, light yellow and pale red--which may be seen with such
meager assistance as an opera-glass. Serviss, by the way, has written a
whole book on what may be seen in the sky with no greater aid than an
opera-glass.
The star cluster in Hercules lies on the west side of the constellation,
about one-third of the distance from the north end and not far from the
figure of the Northern Crown. To the unaided eye, this cluster looks no
more than a glimmering speck of light, but if a powerful telescope is
trained upon it, it is resolved into a great cluster of stars. These
stars, numbering into the thousands, are so packed together toward the
center that they have been described as resembling "ice crystals in a
snowball." From such a lovely blaze within the center another observer
adds that "sprays of stars reach out in all directions like tendrils of
a vine."
The stars counted on a photograph of the Hercules cluster which was
taken by the great 60-inch reflector on Mount Wilson, number over
50,000! This telescope resolves even the solid glow of light at the
center of the cluster into individual stars.
Sir Robert Ball in "Star-land" gives a good illustration of the
appearance of a globular cluster of stars as seen in a large telescope.
"I take a pepper-castor and on a sheet of white paper I begin to
shake out pepper until there is a little heap in the center and the
other grains of pepper are scattered loosely about. Imagine that every
one of those grains of pepper was to be transformed into a tiny electric
light, and then you would have some idea of what a cluster of stars
would look like when viewed through a telescope of sufficient power."
[Figure 64: A STAR CLUSTER IN HERCULES.
Photograph by Yerkes Observatory through 24-inch telescope. A photograph
of the same star-cluster by the Mount Wilson Observatory through a
60-inch reflecting telescope is shown on page 2.]
It was at one time thought that the cluster of Hercules might be a
comparatively close cluster of small-sized suns, but Professor Shapley
has lately discovered that the cluster is a very distant one; indeed it
lies at such an exceedingly remote position in the realms of space that
its parallax is slightly inferior to a 10,000th second of arc which
corresponds to a little more than 36,000 light years. Thus it takes
36,000 light years for its light to reach us, for this light has to
cross the unthinkable space of 220,000 billion miles!
LYRA, THE HARP
[Figure 65]
Of the string of constellations twinkling high overhead during the
spring and summer months, we have already mentioned Leo, the Lion;
Berenice's Hair; Boötes with his golden Arcturus; the Northern Crown
and the giant Hercules.
Next to Hercules, on the east, lies the constellation of Lyra,
represented in legend as the sweet toned harp which belonged to Orpheus,
son of the Muse Calliope. Orpheus inherited the love of music from his
mother, and after the Sun-god had presented him with this wonderful
harp, he played so delightfully that even trees, rocks and hills
gathered around him to listen.
Treasuring the memory of such remarkable talents, the Greeks placed the
instrument in the heavens at the edge of the Milky Way, where its
framework was adorned by a group of stars, one of which is exceptionally
bright, vividly blue and very beautiful. This blue star is called the
"Harp Star," or Vega, by astronomers.
[Figure 66: Precessional Orbit of the Pole.]
Vega rises in the far northeast in the early evenings during the first
of May but during July and August it passes almost overhead. When near
the rim of the northern horizon yellow and red fires dart out amidst the
blue, but when high above in the dome of the sky, its color is pure and
coldly blue, a decided contrast to the golden warmth of Arcturus, which
lies not far to the west of it.
In consequence of the precession of the equinoxes, in less than 12,000
years Vega will be the nearest bright star to the pole; indeed it
will be close enough to serve as our North Star. Then, instead of
wandering from the far northeast to the far northwest, it will seem to
stand in the north like a pale-blue pivot, while all the other stars
will circle round it. Vega will hold this position for 3000 years. The
constellation of Lyra and that of Hercules are of particular interest
because they mark that part of the universe to which our sun is
traveling at the rate of 12½ miles a second. Some day (in half a
million years or so), this gorgeous sun, a hundred times more brilliant
than our sun, may glow upon us as a near neighbor. In 12,000 years, when
our north pole points to Vega, the great Cross with its bright stars
Deneb and Albireo, will never set but will journey night after night in
a small circle close about the celestial pole, Orion will climb over the
zenith and the Milky Way in all its splendor will whirl about the north.
The principal figure formed by the stars of the constellation of Lyra
has been best described as an "equilateral triangle balanced on the
corner of a rhomboid." This figure is easily traced although all of
these stars, with the exception of the brilliant blue one, are of no
more than the 3rd or 4th magnitude.
To the average eye, the little star east of Vega, at the top of the
triangle, appears a trifle elongated, but a sharp eye divides the star
into two stars set very closely together. With a 3-inch telescope each
of these stars is found to be double. This fourfold star in Lyra is
sometimes referred to as a "double-double."
[Figure 67]
The third star, Lyræ, at the base of the "rhomboid" on the same side of
the figure as Vega, is a variable with three small stars near it,
forming a very pretty object with low power.
Also at the base of the rhomboid, between β and γ, one-third of the
way from β, a small telescope will disclose a nebula which has assumed
the shape of a ring, or at least it looks like a ring at this distance.
There are various types of nebulæ, some, like the "planetary" and
"spiral," having definite forms, others being as shapeless as a puff of
vapor. Sometimes a planetary nebula has a star at its center, and again
it appears hollow, like "a little smoke ring." It is then called a ring
nebula. The most famous of these is the one found in Lyra.
On the 19th and 20th of April swift meteors, known as the Lyrids,
radiate from the vicinity of this constellation, although the display is
of interest rather than of any particular beauty.
The legend of this celestial harp, which is often hung by map artists
around the neck of an eagle, is one of the most popular stories in
mythology, and its very appearance in the heavens brings to mind the
beautiful lovers, Orpheus and Eurydice. The harp was anciently
represented as having been invented by Mercury, who gave it to his
half-brother Apollo, the Sun-god, who later presented it to Orpheus, the
son of a Muse.
Mercury, as an infant, gave promise of being a most remarkable god, for
the very day that he was born, he climbed out of his cradle, wandered
out of the lofty cavern of Cyllene and picked up a little tortoise that
was crawling past the entrance. Gently pulling off the scoop-shaped
shell, he bored neat holes along its edges, stretched dried tendons
across its face, and wedged it firmly between two horns. His tiny hands
then strayed across the strings, and he danced delightedly as the most
delicious music issued from the shell.
"And this, whilst yet
Encradled, Hermes pierced and called it Lyre."
--_Aratus._
Mercury then went in and slept awhile, but when darkness came, he again
slipped out of his cavern and ran over to the hillside to see what
further adventure awaited him. Here he found the pasture of Apollo's
cows, and looking the animals over, separated fifty of the best from the
herd, wrapped their hoofs in branches and drove them backwards into a
large cave where he made a fire and sacrificed two of them to the twelve
Gods (himself included).
[Figure 68: THE RING NEBULA IN LYRA.
Photograph by Mount Wilson Observatory through the 100-inch Hooker
telescope.]
The next day while Apollo was driving his sun-chariot over the slopes in
the east, he noticed that a number of his favorite cows were missing.
Investigating the matter, he traced the theft to this baby, who stood up
in his cradle, looked the Sun-god in the face, and stoutly denied it; he
even inquired in a naïve manner what sort of animals cows were. Too
amazed for further words, Apollo picked him up, tucked him under his
arm, and went straightway up Mount Olympus to Jupiter. Here the infant
stood bravely in the midst of the assembly in the great Olympian Hall
and with a look of injured innocence upon his face inquired, "How could
I, still wrapped in swaddling clothes, drive away Apollo's herd? You
well know that I was only born yesterday and have never crossed my
mother's threshold." The gods, perfectly aware of his guilt, roared with
laughter and loudly applauded. Even Jupiter smiled at the infant's
cleverness and, presenting him with a winged silver cap and silver wings
for his feet, told him to lead Apollo to the cave where he had driven
the cattle. Seeing that further subterfuge was useless, Mercury laughed
gleefully and handed Apollo his harp as a peace offering.
Apollo soon played divinely on the little harp and was altogether so
pleased with the instrument that he gave Mercury entire charge of his
flocks and herds, as he preferred to become famous as the God of Music.
The Sun-god later gave the harp to Orpheus, and because a god had played
upon it, it responded to the touch of this beautiful youth in tones so
pure and joyous that even wild beasts were charmed, while birds swarmed
about him in the air and sea-monsters came up to hear him from the
bottom of the sea. The power of his music was so great that rushing
torrents slacked their rapid course to listen to him, and once,
while playing, he watched amazed as a whole forest marched up to a level
place on a hill where it made a shade for a large assemblage of wild
animals and the multitudes of birds who sat as if enchanted while he
played.
This gay and happy musician had a lovely bride named Eurydice, daughter
of the Sea-god Nereus, whom he fondly loved. One day while wandering in
the fields, Eurydice was fatally bitten by a viper which lay concealed
in the long grass. Orpheus filled the groves and valleys with his
piteous lamentations and finally, unable to live without her any longer,
he boldly walked into the cave that led to Pluto's realm, and braved the
horrors of the steep, dark path which led to the lower world. After a
difficult journey he arrived among the Shades, and wandered playing and
singing among the admiring throng. The ancients claim that the power of
his music arrested for a while the torments of the damned, that his
"golden tones" seemed so heavenly in these gloomy depths that the stone
of Sisyphus remained motionless, the Danaides stopped their wearisome
task of pouring water through a sieve, and the Furies withheld their
persecutions.
"E'en Tantalus ceased from trying to sip
The cup that flies from his arid lip."
--_Saxe._
Pluto was touched to unheard of softness and, as he granted Orpheus'
plea that Eurydice be returned to him, "iron tears" rolled down the
furrows of his cheeks. "But hold," said the crafty monarch, "there is
one condition. If you once glance behind you to see if Eurydice is
following, you must lose her again forever." Crashing chords of joyous
triumph, Orpheus hurried up the rough pathway that led to the top of the
world, but as he was about to pass the extreme limits of Hades and saw
beyond him the opening where the sunlight reached in gently through the
darkness, he grew afraid, and in order to convince himself that
his beloved wife was really behind him, he turned suddenly around--only
to see Eurydice, with her arms outstretched, floating slowly backwards
into the drear, dead land below. The grief of Orpheus at this second
loss was even more intense than before, and half-crazed with sorrow and
remorse, the poor lad stumbled to the banks of the river Strymon, where
he mourned for seven days with neither food nor drink. At last he
wandered up into the mountains where he fell into the hands of wild,
bacchanalian revelers and came to a violent end. At the intercession of
Apollo and the Muses, the harp of Orpheus was placed among the stars
while the youth himself was tenderly cared for and buried beneath the
shadow of Mount Olympus.
[Figure 69]
Some mythologists, however, claim that Orpheus was changed into a swan
and placed in the heavens as the constellation of Cygnus so that he
might be near Lyra, the constellation of the Harp, although the Latin
poet Ovid claims that "Cygnus" took its name from "Cycnus," a friend of
Apollo's son Phæthon. It might seem strange, on the face of it, that a
celebrated singer like Orpheus should be changed into a bird as lacking
in song as the swan, but it should be remembered that the ancients
believed that a dying swan sang very sweetly. At least we are
quite certain that Lyra is the harp that Mercury invented, that the
Sun-god endowed with a golden tone, and that Orpheus played upon when he
held spellbound not only mankind, but beasts, rocks and trees.
This great Harp floats across the dome of the heavens on summer evenings
with the blue jewel Vega blazing on its frame. Longfellow in "The
Occultation of Orion" clearly visioned
"its celestial keys,
Its chords of air, its frets of fire."
It is easy to imagine that these twinkling chords still sigh and give
forth strains of music, for an Æolian Harp is a harp that sings when a
wind passes over its strings, and the music of such an instrument is of
a drowsy, lulling quality which blends beautifully into dreams.
THE GREAT NORTHERN CROSS
[Figure 70]
Just east of the Harp Star, in the center of the Milky Way, rests a
cross of stars, clear and bright, as if a cross had really been placed
there and then studded with five big stars.
During the month of May the Cross rises on its side (as viewed by an
observer in the northern hemisphere), but it rests north and south as it
reaches the zenith in midsummer. By December it has reached the slope in
the west, and now assuming an upright position, descends majestically to
the horizon. This descent is quite effective, especially at the moment
when the pale orange star, which rests at its base, lightly touches a
mountain range etched in the distance or the edge of a far-reaching
plain. This 3rd magnitude star, Albireo, is a favorite with
amateur astronomers, for it has a 5th magnitude companion star of the
richest and most vivid greenish-blue.
[Figure 71]
This lovely double star with its sharply contrasted colors may be seen
to good advantage in a small telescope and vies in beauty with the
famous three-colored star, Gamma Andromedæ.
Deneb, the brilliant white star at the head of the Cross, is a very
distant sun but is so large that it shines forth brightly among our
finest stars. It is estimated by astronomers as being at a much greater
distance than the Harp Star, Vega, and Vega is distant about 232
millions of millions of miles!
In contrast to the huge sun that Deneb must be to shine so brightly at
its great distance, there is a little star above the armpiece on the
eastern side of the Cross, which is the nearest star to the earth that
has yet been found, as seen from the northern hemisphere.
[Figure 72]
This faint star is really a very tiny sun for nine more similar suns
thrown into it and blazing as one big fire, would no more than equal our
sun in brilliancy.
In the vicinity of 61 Cygni, is a large, mysterious, black spot visible
on account of the glow of light from the densely packed stars of the
Milky Way. This spot was first described as being "like a hole" and was
curiously named "A Sack of Coals." Science later suggested that since we
have dark suns perhaps we also have dark nebulæ and that such an object
may be lying between us and those distant stars. The late E. E. Barnard
of Yerkes Observatory made extensive studies of the distribution of
nebular matter and he seems to have definitely proved the existence of
"dark nebulæ." The black spots and "rifts" in the Milky Way are now
generally accepted to be dark nebulous matter which cuts out the light
from the stellar regions behind them. Professor Barnard made many
wonderful photographs of such dark spots and compiled a famous Catalogue
of 182 Dark Markings in the sky. Dr. Hubble of the Mount Wilson
Observatory found that in its normal state a nebula is dark rather than
luminous. If a nebula shines it is because it is either illuminated by
the light from the stars near it or because it is electrically excited
in some way not clearly understood.
[Figure 73: A DARK NEBULA (S-SHAPED) IN OPHIUCHUS.
Photograph by Mount Wilson Observatory through the 100-inch
Hooker telescope.]
There is also a Cross on the Milky Way with a dark nebula beside it in a
conspicuous position in the southern hemisphere, although there the
cross is not quite as perfect as our cross in the north, for it is
formed of only four bright stars instead of five. Even our cross is not
quite perfect, for one star, the "diamond-studded nail" holding it
together, is just a little out of line. Julia E. Rogers in "Earth and
Sky" has said that her fingers fairly "itch to put it where it belongs."
Imagine! And since she has so aptly expressed it, we now all feel that
way.
This outlined figure of the great Northern Cross forms the basis of a
constellation called Cygnus, the Swan.
[Figure 74]
The bill of the Swan lies on Albireo, the double star at the foot of the
Cross, while its wings curve gracefully back from the armpiece.
According to the story of Phæthon and Cycnus, Phæthon, after his
hectic ride in the sun-chariot, fell a "charred fragment" into the river
Eridanus. Jupiter's thunderbolt had hit its mark:
"And Phæthon caught in mid-career,
And hurled from sun to utter sunlessness,
Like a flame-bearded comet, with ghastliest hiss,
Fell headlong in the amazed Eridanus."
--_Worsley._
Phæthon's three sisters, the Heliades, wept so bitterly on the banks of
the Eridanus that the compassionate gods changed them into poplar trees
and their tears into amber. Ovid pictures their terrible grief--
"All the night long their mournful watch they keep,
And all the day stand round the tomb and weep."
Cycnus, Phæthon's friend, also grieved deeply and watched over the
waters for many days. While watching thus his neck grew longer and
longer until at last it became perfectly atrocious. The gods again
looked down in pity, metamorphosed the youth into a swan and placed him
on the river of the Milky Way.
"For Cycnus loved unhappy Phæthon,
And sung his loss in poplar groves alone,
Beneath the sister shades to soothe his grief,
Heaven heard his song and hastened his relief.
And changed to snowy plumes his hoary hair,
And winged his flight to sing aloft in air."
--_Virgil._
If this swan is really Cycnus it seems strange that he was not depicted
as flying down the wavy line of Eridanus' stars instead of being placed
over the silvery stream of the Milky Way, for the river Eridanus,
into which Phæthon had fallen, was placed in the winter sky at the foot
of Orion. This was supposed to console Apollo for the loss of his son.
Perhaps the Swan is Orpheus, as some mythologists claim, carried up to
the constellations to be near his well-loved harp. However, no matter
which 'human' this long-necked bird is supposed to represent, we see its
gigantic, graceful outlines sketched with star-like lightness beyond the
stars of the Cross, and we see his snow-white wings extended and the
orange light of Albireo shining on his beak, as he flies softly, head
downward, along the misty river of stars.
[Figure 75: THE ZENITH CONSTELLATIONS AND THE SPECTATORS OF THE
PAGEANT.]