THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RED.ByHAVELOCK ELLIS.

Kinetoscope Film of Explosion.

So much for the visibility of sound under ordinary conditions. In the laboratory, by means of an optical contrivance due to the German physicist Toepler, we can secure a means of illumination so sensitive that the warm air rising from a person’s hand appears like dense black smoke. Moreover, since we are working on a small scale, we can use the electric spark as the source of light, and dispense with the photographic shutter. This is a great advantage, for the time of the exposure is, under these conditions, only about one fifty-thousandth of a second, during which time the sound wave will move scarcely a quarter of an inch. During the past year I have made a very complete series of photographs of sound waves, which illustrate in a most beautiful manner the fundamental principles of wave motion. It is not practicable to give here a full description of the apparatus used, but a brief outline maymake the method intelligible. The sound photographed in each case is the crack of an electric spark, which is illuminated and photographed by the light of a second spark, occurring a brief instant later. In front of a large lens (a telescope objective, for example) two brass balls are mounted, between which the ‘sound spark,’ as I shall call it, passes. The instant the spark jumps across the gap, a spherical wave of condensed air starts out, which, when it reaches our ear, gives the sensation of a snap. The object is to photograph this wave before it gets beyond the limits of the lens. The camera is mounted in front of the lens and focussed on the brass balls, which appear in line in the picture, so that the sound spark is always hidden by the front one. The spark, on jumping between the balls, charges a Leyden jar, which instantly discharges itself between two wires placed behind the lens, producing the illuminating spark. This second spark can be made to lag behind the first just long enough to catch the sound wave when it is but a few inches in diameter, notwithstanding the fact that the spherical wave is expanding at the rate of eleven hundred feet a second. The photographs show in every case the circle of the lens filled up with the light of the illuminatingspark, the brass balls (in line) and the rods that support them, and the sound wave, which appears in the simplest case as a circle of light and shade surrounding the balls. By placing an obstacle in the way of the wave we get the reflected wave or echo, and we shall see that the form of this echo may be very complicated.

Fig. 1. Sound Wave Reflected from a Plane Surface.

It will be well at the outset to remind the reader of the close analogy between sound and light. A burning candle gives out spherical light waves, just as the snapping sparks give out sound waves. The form of the reflected light wave will be identical with that of a sound wave reflected under similar conditions. As we can not see the light waves themselves, we can only determine their form by calculation, and it is interesting to see that the forms photographed are identical in every case with the calculated ones. The object in view was to secure acoustical illustrations of as many of the phenomena connected with light as possible. We will begin with the very simplest case of all: the reflection of a spherical sound wave from a flat surface, corresponding to the reflection of light from a plane mirror. It can be shown by geometry that the reflected wave or echo will be a portion of a sphere, the center of which lies as far below the reflecting surface as the point at which the sound originates is above it. In the case of light, this point constitutes the image in the mirror. Referring to the photograph, we see the reflected wave in three successive positions, the interval between the sound spark and the illuminating spark having been progressively increased. The brass balls are shown at A, and beneath them the flat plate B, which acts as a reflector. In the first picture the sound wave C appears as a circle of light and shade, and has just intersected the plate. The echo appears at D. In the next two pictures the original wave has passed out of the field, and there remains only the echo.

It may, perhaps, be not out of place to remind the reader of the relation between rays of light and the wave surface. What we term light rays have no real existence, the ray being merely the path traversed by a small portion of consecutive wave surfaces. Since the wave surface always moves in a direction perpendicular to itself, the rays are always normal to it. For instance, in the above case of a spherical wave diverging from a point, the rays radiate in all directionsfrom the point; the same is true in the case of the echo, the rays radiating from the image point below the reflecting surface. In all subsequent cases the reader can, if interested in tracing the analogy between sound and light, draw lines perpendicular to the reflected wave surfaces representing the system of reflected waves.

We will now consider a second case of reflection. We know that if a lamp is placed in the focus of a concave mirror, the rays, instead of diverging in all directions, issue from the mirror in a narrow beam. The headlight of a locomotive and the naval searchlight are examples of the practical use made of this property. If the curvature of the mirror is parabolical, the rays leaving it are parallel; consequently mirrors of this form are employed rather than spherical ones. But what has the mirror done to the wave surface which is obviously spherical when it leaves the lamp, and what is its form after reflection? The wave surface, I have said, is always perpendicular to the rays; consequently in cases where we have parallel rays we should expect the wave to be flat or plane.

Fig. 2. Spherical Sound Wave.

Examine the second photograph, which shows a spherical, sound wave starting at the focus of a parabolic mirror. The echo appears as astraight line, instead of a circle as in the previous case, which shows us that the wave surface is flat.

If now our mirror is a portion of a sphere instead of a paraboloid, our reflected wave is not flat, and the reflected rays are not all parallel, the departure from parallelism increasing as we consider rays reflected from points farther and farther away from the center of the mirror. A photograph illustrating the reflection of sound under these conditions is next shown, the echo wave being shaped like a flat-bottomed saucer. As the saucer moves upward the curved sides converge to a focus at the edge of the flat bottom, disappearing for the moment (as is shown in the fourth picture of the series), and then reappearing on the under side after passing through the focus, the saucer turning inside out.

If, instead of having a hemisphere, as in the last case, we have a complete spherical mirror, shutting the wave up inside a hollow ball, we get exceedingly curious forms; for the wave can not get out, and is bounced back and forth, becoming more and more complicated at each reflection. This is illustrated in our next photograph, the mirror beinga broad strip of metal bent into acircle.DIntricate as these wave surfaces are, they have all been verified by geometrical constructions, as I shall presently show.

DCylindrical mirrors have been used instead of spherical, for obvious reasons. A sectional view of the reflected wave is the same in this case as when produced by a spherical surface.

Another very interesting case of reflection is that occurring inside an elliptical mirror. When light diverges from one of the two foci of such a mirror, all the rays are brought accurately to the other focus. If rays of light come to a focus from all directions, it is evident that the wave surface must be a sphere, which, instead of expanding, is collapsing. This is very beautifully shown in the photographs. The sound wave starts in one focus and the reflected wave, of spherical form also, shrinks to a point at the other focus. (SeeFig. 5.)

Fig. 3. A Wave Reflected from a Portion of a Sphere.

Fig. 4. A Wave from a Cylindrical Mirror.

In the next series the wave starts outside of the field of the lens, and enters a hemispherical mirror. We know that a concave mirror has the power of bringing light to a focus at a point situated half-way between the surface of the mirror and its center of curvature. If the light comes from a very distant point, and the mirror is parabolic in form, the rays are broughtaccuratelyto a focus; which means that the reflected wave is a converging sphere,—a condition the opposite of that in which spherical waves start in the focus of such a mirror. If, however, the mirror is spherical, only a portion of the light comes to a focus. On examining the pictures we see that the reflected wave has a form resembling a volcanic cone with a bowl-shaped crater.See the third and fourth pictures of the series. The bowl of the crater shrinks to a point half-way between the surface of the mirror and its center of curvature, and represents that portion of the light which comes to a focus, while the sides of the cone run in under the collapsing bowl, and eventually cross. (No. 6 of the series.) From now on the portion which has come to a focus diverges, uniting with the sides of the cone, the whole passing out of the mirror in the form of a horseshoe.

Fig. 5. A Wave from an Elliptical Mirror.

Fig. 6. A Wave Starting Outside the Field of the Lens.

Fig. 7. A Case of Refraction.

We will now consider a case of refraction, and show the slower velocity of the sound wave in carbonic acid. A narrow glass tank, covered with an exceedingly thin film of collodion, was filled with the heavy gas and placed under the brass balls. When the sound wave strikes the collodion surface, it breaks up into two components, one reflected back into the air, the other transmitted down through the carbonic acid. An examination of the series shows that the reflected wave in air has moved farther from the collodion film than the transmitted wave, which, as a matter of fact, has been flattened out intoa hyperboloid. Exactly the same thing happens when light strikes a block of glass. We have rays reflected from the surface, and rays transmitted through the block, the waves which give rise to the latter moving slower than the ones in air.

A complete discussion of all of the cases that have been studied in this way would probably prove wearisome to the general reader. Prisms and lenses of collodion filled with carbonic acid and hydrogen gas have been made, and their action on the wave surface photographed. Diffraction, or the bending of the waves around obstacles, and the very complicated effects when the waves are reflected from corrugated surfaces, are also well shown. I shall, however, omit further mention of them and speak of but one other case, possibly the most beautiful of all.

Fig. 8. A Musical Tone.

In all the cases that we have considered, it must be remembered that we have been dealing with a single wave—a pulse, as it is called. Musical tones are caused by trains of waves, the pitch of the note corresponding to the distance between the waves, or to the rate at which the separate pulses beat upon the drum of the ear. For studying the changes produced by reflection, wave trains would have been useless, owing to the confusion which would have resulted from the superposition of the different waves. Moreover, it is doubtful whether an ordinary musical tone could be photographed in this way; for the distance between the waves, even in the shrillest tones, is four or five inches, and the abrupt change in density, necessary for the perception of the wave, is not present. It is possible, however, to create a wave train or musical tone which can be photographed. The reader may perhaps have noticed that on a very still night, when walking beside a picket fence or in front of a high flight of steps, the sounds of his footsteps are echoed from the palings as metallic squeaks. Each picket, as the single wave caused by the footfall sweeps along the fence, reflects a little wave; consequently a train of waves falls on the ear, the distance between the waves corresponding to the distance between the pickets. The closer together the pickets, the shriller the squeak. In point of fact, the distance between the waves in such a train is twice the distance between the palings, since they are not struck simultaneously by the footstep wave, but in succession.

This phenomenon, of the creation of a musical tone by the reflectionof a noise, was reproduced by reflecting the crack of the spark from a little flight of steps. In the first picture the wave is seen half way between its origin and the reflecting surface. In the second it has struck the top stair, which is giving off its echo, the first wave of our artificially constructed musical tone. In the third we find the original wave at the sixth step, with a well-developed train of five waves rising from the flight. The following three pictures show the further development of the wave train. The height of each step was about a quarter of an inch; consequently the distance between the waves was half an inch. This would correspond to a note about three octaves above the highest ever used in music.

Fig 9. The Reflection Inside the Hollow Sphere.

While experimenting with the complete circular mirror, which, it will be remembered, gave the most complicated forms, it occurred to me that a very vivid idea of how these curious wave surfaces are produced could be obtained by preparing a complete series in proper order on a kinetoscope film, and then projecting them in succession on the screen. The experimental difficulties were, however, too great to make it seem worth while to attempt to obtain a series of pictures of the actual waves, it being very difficult to accurately regulate the time interval between the two sparks. The easier method of making a large number of geometrical constructions, and then photographing them in successionon the film, was accordingly adopted. Three complete sets of drawings, to the number of about one hundred each, were prepared for three separate cases of reflection;—viz.: the entrance of a plane wave into a hemispherical mirror, the passage of a spherical wave out from the focus of a hemispherical mirror, and the multiple reflection of a spherical wave inside of a complete spherical mirror. Special methods were devised for simplifying the constructions, and much less labor was required in the preparation of the diagrams than one would suppose. The results fully justified the labor, the evolutions of the waves being shown in a most striking manner. These films I exhibited before the Royal Society in February last, and a more complete description of the manner of preparing them may be found in the Proceedings of the Society.

A portion of one of these series is reproduced, about one in four or five of the separate diagrams being given. The series runs from left to right in horizontal rows. When projected on the screen, the spherical wave is seen gradually to expand from the focus point, like a swelling soap bubble; it strikes the surface, and the bowl-shaped echo bounces off and follows the unreflected portion across the field; these two portions are then reflected in turn, and the curiously looped wave flies back and forth across the mirror, changing continuously all the time, and becoming more complicated at each reflection. These diagrams should be compared with the photographs shown in the fourth series.

One must not suppose that these beautiful forms exist only in the laboratory. Every time we speak, spherical waves bounce off the floor, ceiling and walls of the room, while in any ordinary bowl or basin the curious crater-shaped echoes are formed. Glance once more at the wave surfaces produced within a hollow sphere, and try to imagine the complexity of the aerial vibrations caused by a fly buzzing around in an empty water-caraffe! The photographs enable us to realize what is going on around us all the time—this our perceptions are fortunately too dull to perceive. Life would be a nightmare if we were obliged to see the myriads of flying sound waves bounding and rebounding about us in every direction, and combining into grotesque and ever-changing forms. It is just as well, on the whole, that the light of the electric spark and the delicate optical device of Toepler are necessary to bring them into view.

Amongall colors, the most poignantly emotional tone undoubtedly belongs to red. The ancient observation concerning the resemblance of scarlet to the notes of a trumpet has often been repeated, though it was probably unknown to the young Japanese lady who, on hearing a boy sing in a fine contralto voice, exclaimed: “That boy’s voice is red.” On the one hand, red is the color that idiots most easily learn to recognize; on the other hand, Kirchhoff, the chemist, called it the most aristocratic of colors; Pouchet, the zoölogist, was inclined to think that it was a color apart, not to be paralleled with any other chromatic sensation, and recalled that the retinal pigment is red; Laycock, the physician, confessed that he preferred the gorgeous red tints of an autumn sunset to either musical sounds or gustatory flavors. Artists more cautious than men of science in expressing such a preference—knowing that a color possesses its special virtue in relation to other colors, and that all are of infinite variety—yet easily reveal, one may often note, a predilection for red by introducing it into scenes where it is not naturally obvious, whether we turn to a great landscape painter like Constable or to a great figure painter like Rubens, who, with the development of his genius, displayed even greater daring in the introduction of red pigments into his work.

In all parts of the world red is symbolical of joyous emotion. Often, either alone or in association with yellow, occasionally with green, it is the fortunate or sacred color. In lands so far apart as France and Madagascar scarlet garments were at one time the exclusive privilege of the royal family. A great many different colors are symbolical of mourning in various parts of the world; white, gray, yellow, brown, blue, violet, black can be so used, but, so far as I am aware, red never. Everywhere we find, again, that red pigments and dyes, and especially red ochre, are apparently the first to be used at the beginning of civilization, and that they usually continue to be preferred even after other colors are introduced. There is indeed one quarter of the globe where the allied color of yellow, which often elsewhere is the favorite after red, may be said to come first. In a region of which the Malay peninsula is the center and which includes a large part of China, Burmah and the lower coast of India, yellow is the sacred and preferred color, but this is the only large district which presents us with any exception to the general rule, among either higher or lower races, and since yellow falls into thesame group as red, and belongs to a neighboring part of the spectrum, even this phenomenon can scarcely be said to clash seriously with the generaluniformity.E

EA further partial exception is furnished by the tendency to prefer green which may be found in certain countries, now or formerly Mahommedan, such as North Africa and to a large extent Spain, which have an arid and more or less desert climate.

If we turn to Australia, whither the anthropologist often turns in order to explore some of the most primitive and undisturbed data of early human culture still available for study, we find the preference for red very well marked. In times of rejoicing the tribes at Port Mackay, Curr remarked, paint themselves red; in times of mourning, white. In describing the paintings and rock carvings of the Australians, Mathews states that red, white, black and occasionally yellow pigments were used, precisely the four pigments which Karl von den Steinen found in use in Central Brazil. Prof. Baldwin Spencer and Mr. Gillen, in their valuable work on the natives of Central Australia, have pointed out the significance and importance of red ochre. One of the most striking and characteristic features, they say, of Central Australians’ implements and weapons is the coating of red ochre with which the native covers everything except his spear and spear-thrower. The hair is greased and red-ochred, and red ochre is the most striking feature in decoration generally. For ages past the Australian native has been accustomed to rub this substance regularly over his most sacred objects, and then over ordinary objects.

There is, however, no need to go so far afield in order to illustrate the primitive use of red ochre. Our own European ancestors followed exactly the same methods, and the German woman of early ages used red and yellow ochre to adorn her face and body, while the finds of the ice age at Schussenquelle, described by Fraas, included a brilliant red paste (oxide of iron with reindeer fat) evidently intended for purposes of adornment. Moreover, the early artists of classic times had precisely the same predilections in color as the aboriginal Australian artists. Red, white, black and yellow are the dominant colors in theIliad, and Pliny mentions that the most ancient pictures were painted in various reds, while at a later date red and yellow predominated. He also mentions that yellow was the favorite color of women for garments, and was specially used at marriages, while red being a sacred color and apt to provoke joy, was used at popular festivals, in the form of minium and cinnabar, to smear the statues of Jupiter.

This well-nigh universal recognition of the peculiarly intense emotional tone of red is reflected in language. The color words of civilized and uncivilized peoples have been investigated with interesting and on the whole remarkably harmonious results. It is only necessary here to refer to them briefly in so far as they are related to our present subject.It seems that in every country the words for the colors at the red end of the spectrum are of earlier appearance, more definite and more numerous, than for those at the violet end. On the Niger it appears that there are only three color words, red, white and black, and everything that is not white or black is called red. The careful investigation of the natives of Torres Straits and New Guinea by Dr. W. H. R. Rivers, of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition, has shown that at Murray Island, Mabuiag and Kiwai there were definite names for red, less definite for yellow, still less so for green, while any definite name for blue could not be found. In this way as we pass from the colors of long wave-length towards those of short wave-length we find the color nomenclature becoming regularly less definite. In Kiwai and Murray Island the same word was applied to blue and black, and at Mabuiag there was a word (for sea-color) which could be applied either to blue or green, while Australian natives from Fitzroy River seemed limited to words for red, white and black. In a neighboring region of Northern Queensland Dr. Walter Roth has reached almost identical results, the tribes having distinct names for red and yellow, as applied to ochre, while blue is confounded in nomenclature with black. In Brazil, again, while all tribes use separate words for red, yellow, white and black, only one had a word for blue and green. Even so æsthetic a people as the Japanese have no general words for either blue or green, and apply the same color word to a green tree and the unclouded sky.

Here again we may trace similar phenomena in Europe; the same greater primitiveness, precision and copiousness of the color vocabulary at the long wave end of the spectrum are found among Europeans as well as among the lowest savages. The vagueness of the Greek color vocabulary, especially at the violet end of the spectrum, has led to much controversy. Latin was especially rich in synonyms for red and yellow, very poor in synonyms for green and blue. The Latin tongue had even to borrow a word for blue from Teutonic speech;caeruleusoriginally meant dark. Even in the second century A. D. Aulus Gellius, who knew seven synonyms for red and yellow, scarcely mentions green and blue. Magnus has pointed out that a preference for the colors at the violet end of the spectrum coincided with the spread of Christianity, to which we owe it, he believes, that yellow ceased to be popular and was treated withopprobrium.FModern English bears witness that our ancestors, like the Homeric poets, resembled the Australian aborigines in identifying the color of the short wave end of the spectrum with entire absence of color, for ‘blue’ and ‘black’ appear to be etymologically the same word.

FIn this connection I may mention that the preference for green, which, as I have shown elsewhere (“The Color Sense in Literature,”Contemporary Review, May, 1896), developed in English literature with the rise of Puritanism in the seventeenth century.

At this point we come across an interesting and once warmly debated question. It was maintained some twenty years ago by writers who had been impressed by the defectiveness of the color vocabulary at the short wave-length end of the spectrum, that primitive man generally, and early Hellenic man in particular, were insensitive to the colors at that end of the spectrum, and unable to distinguish them. On investigation of individuals belonging to savage races it appeared, however, that no marked inferiority in color discrimination could be demonstrated. Hence it became clear that the vague and defective vocabulary for blue and green must be due to some other cause than vague and defective perception, and that sensation and nomenclature were not sufficiently parallel to enable us to argue from one to the other.

That, in the main, is a conclusion which still holds good. In all parts of the world it has been found that color discrimination, even amongst the lowest savages, is far more accurate than color nomenclature. Thus of an African Bantu tribe, the Mang’anja, Miss Werner states that they can discriminate all varieties of blue in beads, but call them all black. The sky is black; so is any green, brown or grey article, though a very bright grey counts as white. Violet or purple is black. Yellow is either red or white. A word supposed sometimes to mean green really means raw, unripe or even wet. Thus the Mang’anja only have three colors—black, white and red. In quite a different region, the Zulus, more advanced in color nomenclature, have not only black, white and red, but a word which may mean either green or blue, and another which means yellow, buff or grey, or some shade of brown. At the same time it now appears that the earlier scientific writers on this subject were not entirely wrong in stating that among savages there is some actual failure of perception at the short wave end of the spectrum, although they were wrong in arguing that it was necessarily involved in the defects of color vocabulary, and in imagining that it could be as extensive as that hypothesis demanded. It now appears that the conclusions reached by Hugo Magnus of Breslau, as expressed in 1883 in his study ‘Ueber Ethnologische Untersuchungen des Farbensinnes,’ fairly answer to the facts. In large measure relying on the examination of 300 Chukchis made by Almquist during the Nordenskiold Expedition, Magnus concluded that although the color vision of the uncivilized has the same range from red to violet as that of the civilized and all the colors can usually be separately distinguished, there is sometimes a certain dullness, a diminished energy of sensation, as regards green and blue, the shorter and more refrangible waves of the spectrum, while the colors at the other end are perceived with much greater vividness. Stephenson, more recently, among over one thousand Chinese, examined at various places, found only one case of color blindness, but a frequent tendency to confuse green and blue and also blue and purple, whileDr. Adele Fielde, of Swatow, China, among 1,200 Chinese of both sexes examined by Thomson’s wool test, found that more than half mixed up green and blue, and many even seemed to be quite blind to violet. Ernest Krause also has argued that primitive man was most sensitive to the red end of the spectrum, hence setting about to obtain red pigments and acquiring definite names for them, an explanation which is accepted by Karl von den Steinen to account for the phenomena among the Central Brazilians. The recent investigations of Rivers at Torres Straits have confirmed the conclusions of Magnus. He found that, corresponding to the defect of color terminology, though to a much less degree, there appeared to be an actual defect of vision for colors of short wave-length; in testing with colored wools no mistake was ever made with reds, but blues and greens were constantly confused, as were blue and violet.

It may even be argued that the same defect exists to a minor degree not only among the peoples of Eastern Asia whose æsthetic sense is highly developed, but among civilized Europeans when any kind of color blindness is altogether excluded. This was noted long since by Holmgren, who remarked that some persons, though able to distinguish between blue and green wools when placed together, were liable to call the blue wool green, and the green blue, when they saw them separately. Magnus also showed that such an inability is apt to appear at a very early stage in some persons when the illumination is diminished, although the perception of red and yellow remains perfectly distinct. He further showed that blue and green at certain distances are often much more difficult to recognize than red. Most people probably are conscious of difficulty in distinguishing blue and green pigments with diminished light and find that blue easily passes into black. Violet also appears for many people to be merely a variety of blue; the word itself, we may note, is recent in our language, and plays a very small part in our poetic literature, and in fact the color itself, if we rigidly exclude purple, is extremely rare in nature. It is a noteworthy fact in this connection that in normal persons the color sense may be easily educated; this is not merely a fact of daily observation, but has been exactly demonstrated by Féré, who by means of his chromoptoscopic boxes, containing very dilute colored solutions, found that with practice it was possible to recognize solutions which had previously seemed uncolored. It is also noteworthy that in the achromatopsia of the hysterical, as Charcot showed and as Parimand has since confirmed, the order in which the colors usually disappear is violet, green, blue, red; sometimes the paradoxical fact is found that red will give a luminous sensation in a contracted visual field when even white gives no luminous sensation. This persistence of red vision in the hysterical is only one instance of a predilection for red which has often beennoted as very marked among the hysterical. Red also exerted a great fascination over the victims of the mediæval hysterical epidemics of tarantism in Italy, while the victims of the German mediæval epidemic of St. Vitus’s dance imagined that they were immersed in a stream of blood which compelled them to leap up.

It may be noted that red and perhaps yellow have been stated to be the only colors visible in dreams; this is possibly due to the blood-vessels. Such an explanation is probable with regard to the various subjective visual sensations which constitute an aura in epilepsy, among which, as Gowers notes, red and reddish yellow are most frequently found. Féré has further noted that in various emotional states somewhat resembling epilepsy, and even in mystic exaltation, red may be subjectively seen. Simroth has gone so far as to argue that not only is red fundamental in human color psychology, but that in living organisms generally, even as a pigment, red is the most primitive of colors, that since the algæ at the greatest sea-depths are red it is possible that protoplasm at first only responded to rays of long wave-length, and that with increased metabolism colors became differentiated, following the order in the spectrum.

If it is really the case that in the evolution of the race familiarity with the red end of the spectrum has been earlier and more perfectly acquired than with the violet end, and that red and yellow made a more profound impression on primitive man than green and blue, we should expect to find this evolution reflected in the development of the individual, and that the child would earlier acquire a sensitiveness for red and orange and yellow than for green and blue and violet. This seems actually to be the case. The study of the color sense in children is, indeed, even more difficult than in savages; and many investigators have probably succumbed to the fallacies involved in this study. Doubtless we may thus account for some discrepancies in the attempts to ascertain the facts of color perception and color preference in children, while doubtless also there are individual differences which discount the value of experiments made on only a single child. A few careful and elaborate investigations, however, especially that of Garbini on 600 North Italian children of various ages, have thrown much light on the matter. There is fairly general agreement that red is the first color that attracts young children and which they recognize. That is the result recorded by Uffelmann in Germany, while Preyer found yellow and red at the head; Binet in France concluded that red comes first; Wolfe in America reached the same result, and Luckey noted that his own children seemed to enjoy red, orange and yellow very much earlier than they could perceive blue, which seemed to come last. Baldwin, indeed, found in the case of his own child that blue seemed more attractive than red; his methods have, however, been criticised, and his experiments failed toinclude yellow. Mrs. Moore found that her baby, between the sixteenth and forty-fifth weeks, nearly always preferred a yellow ball to a red ball; this was doubtless not a matter of color, but of brightness, for there is no reason to suppose chromatic perception at so early an age. Red, orange and yellow, it may be added, are perceived by a slightly lower illumination than green, blue and violet, the last being the most difficult of all to perceive, so that it is not surprising that the colors at the violet end should be inconspicuous to young infants. Garbini, whose experiments are worth noting in more detail, found that the order of perception is red, green, yellow, orange, blue and violet, and as he experimented with a large number of children and used methods which so competent a judge as Binet regards as approaching perfection, his results may be considered a fair approach to the truth. He found that for the first few days after birth the infant shuns the light; then, about the fourteenth day, he ceases to be photophobic and begins to enjoy the light, as is shown by his being quieted when brought into a bright light and crying when taken from it; this may sometimes begin even about the fifth day. Between the fifth week and the eighteenth month children show signs of distinguishing white, black and grey objects. It is not until after the eighteenth month that their chromatic perception begins, any preference for red and yellow objects at an earlier age being due merely to their greater luminosity. Garbini considers that it is the center of the retina, or the portion most sensitive to red and yellow, which is most exercised in young infants. Between the second and third years children, both boys and girls, were found to be most successful in the recognition of red, then of green, but they very often confused orange with red, and mixed up yellow, blue, violet and green; he thinks they tend to confuse a color with the preceding color in spectral order. Under the age of three children may be said to be color-blind, and they are liable to confuse rosy tints with green. Between the ages of three and five they are able to distinguish red in any gradation, green nearly always, with an occasional confusion with red, while yellow is sometimes confused with orange, orange sometimes replaced by rose, blue often not recognized in its gradations, and violet often selected in place of blue. At this age, also (as in hysterical anæsthesia of the retina), blue seems dark or black. In the fifth and sixth years red, green and yellow are always correctly chosen; orange gradations are not always recognized, and blue and violet come last, being sometimes confused. In the sixth year children are perfecting their knowledge of orange, blue and violet and completing their knowledge of color designations. Garbini has reached the important result that color perceptions and verbal expression of the perceptions follow exactly parallel paths, so that in studying verbal expression we are really studying perception, with the important distinction that the expressioncomes much later than theperception.GThese investigations of Garbini are very significant, and there can be little doubt that the evolution of the child’s color sense repeats that of the race.

GGarbini, “Evoluzione del senso cromatico nella infanzia,”Archivio per l’Antropologia, 1894. I.

In dealing with the color perceptions of savages and children we are, of course, to some extent dealing more or less unconsciously with their color preferences. There is some interest from our present point of view in considering the conscious color preferences of young and adult civilized persons. Red, as we have seen, is the color that fascinates our attention earliest, that we see and recognize most vividly; it remains the color that attracts our attention most readily and that gives us the greatest emotional shock. It by no means necessarily follows that it is the most pleasurable color. As a matter of fact, such evidence as is available shows that very often it is not. There seems reason to think that after the first early perception of red, and early pleasure in it, yellow or orange is frequently the favorite color, the preference often lasting during several years of childhood; Preyer’s child liked and discriminated yellow best, and Miss Shinn was inclined to think that it was the favorite color of her niece, who in the twenty-eighth month showed a special fondness for daffodils and for a yellow dress. Barnes found that in children the love of yellow diminishes with age. Binet’s child was specially preoccupied with orange. Aars in an elaborate and frequently varied investigation into the color preferences of eight children (four of each sex), between four and seven years of age, found that with the boys the order of preference was blue and yellow (both equal), then red, lastly green; while with the girls the order was green, blue, red and yellow; in combinations of two colors it was found that combinations of blue come first, then of yellow, then green, lastly red. It was found (as J. Cohn has found among adults and cultivated people) that the deepest and most saturated color was most pleasing; and also that the love of novelty and of variety was an important factor. It will be observed that at this age green was the girls’ favorite color and that least liked by the boys, whose favorite color, in combination, was blue; the number of individuals was, however, small. This was in Germany. In America, among 1,000 children, probably somewhat older on the average (though I have not details of the inquiry), Mr. Earl Barnes found, like Dr. Aars, that more boys than girls selected blue, while the girls preferred red more frequently than the boys; Barnes considers that with growing years there is a growing tendency to select red; as is well known, girls are more precocious than boys. Among 100 students at Columbia University, the order of preference was found to be blue (34 per cent), red (22.7 per cent), and then at a more considerable distance violet, yellow, green. It is noteworthythat among 100 women students at Wellesley College the order of preference was not very different, being blue (38 per cent), red (18 per cent), yellow, green, violet; in a later investigation the order remained the same, there being only some increase in the preference for red; it was considered that association accounted for the preference for blue, while more conscious as well as more emotional elements entered into the preference for red.

By far the most extensive investigation of color preference was that carried on at Chicago by Professor Jastrow on 4,500 persons, mostly adults, of both sexes and variousnationalities.HBlue was found to be the favorite color, less than half as many persons preferring red; of every thirty men ten voted for blue and three for red, while of every thirty women five voted for red and four for blue. The men also liked violet and on the whole confined their choice to but few colors, the women also liked pink, green (very seldom chosen by men) and yellow, and showed a tendency to choose light and dainty shades. There was on the whole a decided preference for dark shades; the least favorite colors were yellow and orange. It is evident that, as we should expect, within the elementary field of popular æsthetics, women show a more trained feeling for color than men.

HJ. Jastrow, “The Popular Æsthetics of Color,”Popular Science Monthly, 1897.

It is not quite easy to coördinate the various phenomena of color predilection. Careful and extended observations are still required. It seems to me, however, that the facts, as at present ascertained, do suggest a certain order and harmony in the phenomena. It is difficult not to believe that there really is, both among many uncivilized peoples and also many children at an early age, even to a slight extent among civilized adults, a relative inability, by no means usually absolute, to recognize and distinguish the tones of color at the more refrangible end of the spectrum. The earliest writers on the subject were wrong when they supposed that color nomenclature at all accurately corresponded to color perception, and it is well recognized that there are no peoples who are wholly unable to distinguish between green and blue and black. But as Garbini has clearly shown, there really is a parallelism between color nomenclature and color recognition, and Garbini’s wide investigation has confirmed the experiments of Preyer on a single child by showing that there is a certain hesitancy and uncertainty in recognizing the colors at the more refrangible end of the spectrum, long after children are familiar with the less refrangible end. In the same way the important investigations of Rivers have confirmed the earlier observations of Magnus and Almquist in showing that savages in many cases exhibit a certain difficulty in recognizing and distinguishing blue and green, such as they never experience with red and yellow. The vaguenessof color nomenclature as regards blue and green thus indicates, though grossly exaggerating, a real psychological fact, and in this way we have an explanation of the curious fact that in widely separated parts of the world (at Torres Straits, among the Esthonians at Rome, etc.) as civilization progressed it was found necessary to borrow a word for blue from other languages.

There is almost complete harmony among a number of observers, now very considerable, in many countries, showing that the colors children first take notice of and recognize are red and yellow, most observers putting red first. There is no true predilection for these colors at this early age because the other colors do not yet seem to have been perceived. At first, doubtless, all colors appear to the infant as light or dark, white or black. That this is so is indicated by the experience of Dr. George Harley, who at one period of his life, in order to cure an injury to the retina caused by overwork at the microscope, resolutely spent nine months in absolutely total and uninterrupted darkness. When he emerged he found that, like an infant, he was unable to appreciate distance by the eye, while he had also lost the power of recognizing colors; for the first month all light colors appeared to him perfectly white and all dark colors perfectly black. He fails to state the order in which the colors reappeared to him. It is well recognized, however, that eyes long unexposed to light become color-blind for all colors except red. Preyer’s child in the fourth year was surprised that in the twilight her bright blue stockings looked grey, while for some time longer she always called dark green black. By the sixth year all colors are seen and known with fair correctness. Among young children at this age, so far as the evidence yet goes, red is rarely the preferred color, this being more often yellow, green or blue. There is doubtless room here for a great amount of individual difference, but on the whole it appears that children prefer those colors which they have most recently learnt to recognize, the colors which have all the charm of novelty and newly-won possession. It is probable, too, that (as Groos has also suggested) the stimulation of red is too painfully strong in this stage of the development of the color sense to be altogether pleasurable, in the same way that orchestral music is often only a disturbing noise to children.

One may note in this connection that hyperæsthesia to color is nearly always an undue sensibility to red and very rarely to any other color. The case has been recorded of a highly neurotic officer who, for more than thirty years, was intolerant of red-colored objects. The dazzling produced by scarlet uniforms, especially in bright sunshine, seriously interfered with the performance of his duties, and in private life red parasols, shawls, etc., produced similar effects; he was often overcome in the streets by giddiness, sometimes almost before he realizedthat he was looking at a red object. Many years ago Laycock referred to the case of a lady who could not bear to look at anything red, and Elliston also had a lady patient to whom red was very obnoxious, and who, when put into a room with red curtains, drank seven quarts of fluid a day. I am not aware that any such hyperæsthesia exists in the case of other colors. It is also noteworthy that the morbid affection in which color is seen when it does not exist is most usually a condition in which red is seen (erythropsia), yellow being the color most frequently seen after red (a condition called xanthopsia); the other colors are very rarely seen, and Hilbert, in his monograph on the pathology of the color sense, considers that this is due to the fact that red and yellow make the most intense effect on the sensorium, which thus becomes liable not only to direct but to reflected irritation, in the absence of any external color stimulus. There are other facts which show that of all colors red is that which acts as the most powerful stimulus on the organism. Münsterberg, in some interesting experiments which he made to illustrate the motor power of visual impressions as measured by their arresting action on the eye-muscles, found that red and yellow have considerably more motor power in stimulating the eye than the other colors. It may be added also that, as Quantz has found, we overestimate the magnitude of colors of the less refrangible part of the spectrum and underestimate the others.

After puberty blue seems still to maintain its position, but red has now come more to the front, while yellow has definitely receded; although so favorite a color in classic antiquity, it is rarely the preferred color among ourselves. J. Cohn in Germany found that among a dozen students it was never in any degree of saturation the preferred color, while at Cornell Major found that all the subjects investigated considered yellow and orange either unpleasant or among the least pleasant colors.

While blue seems to be the color most usually preferred by men, red is more commonly preferred by women, who also show a more marked predilection for its complementary green. Whether the feminine love of red shows a fine judgment we could better decide if we knew among what classes of the population red lovers and blue lovers respectively predominate; it may be noted, however, that the necessities of dress give the most ordinary woman an acquaintance with the elementary æsthetics of color which the average man has no occasion to acquire. In any case it might have been anticipated that, even though the typically ‘cold’ color should appeal most strongly to men, the most emotional of colors should appeal most strongly to women.

Inancient times the practice was adopted of imagining the figures of heroes and animals to be so outlined in the heavens as to include in each figure a large group of the brighter stars. In a few cases some vague resemblance may be traced between the configurations of the stars and the features of the object they are supposed to represent; in general, however, the arrangement seems quite arbitrary. One animal or man could be fitted in as well as another. There is no historic record or trace as to the time when the constellations were mapped out, or of the process by which the outlines were traced. The names of heroes, such as Perseus, Cepheus, Hercules, etc., intermingled with the names of goddesses, show that the constellations were probably mapped out during the heroic age. No maps are extant showing exactly how each figure was placed in the constellation; but in the catalogue of stars given by Ptolemy in his ‘Almagest,’ the positions of particular stars on the supposed body of the hero, goddess or animal are designated with such precision as he had at command, in some fairly precise position of the figure. For example, Aldebaran is said to have formed the eye of the Bull. Two other stars marked the right and left shoulders of Orion, and a small cluster marked the position of his head. A row of three stars in a horizontal line showed his belt, three stars in a vertical line below them his sword. In this way the position of the figure can be reproduced with a fair degree of certainty.

In the well-known constellationUrsa Major, the Great Bear, familiarly known as the Dipper, three stars form the tail of the animal, and four others a part of his body. This formation is not unnatural, yet the figure of a dipper fits the stars much better than that of a bear. In Cassiopeia, which is on the opposite side of the pole from the Dipper, the brighter stars may easily be imagined to form a chair in which a lady may be seated without further difficulty. As a general rule, however, the resemblances of the stars to the figure are so vague that the latter might be interchanged to any extent without detracting from their appropriateness.

In any case, it was impossible so to arrange the figures that they should cover the entire heavens; blank spaces were inevitably left inwhich stars might be found. In order to include every star in some constellation, the figures have been nearly ignored by modern astronomers, and the heavens have been divided up, by somewhat irregular lines, into patches, each of which contains the entire figure as recognized by ancient astronomers. But all are not agreed as to the exact outlines of these extended constellations, and, accordingly, a star is sometimes placed in one constellation by one astronomer and in another constellation by another astronomer.

The confusion thus arising is especially great in the southern hemisphere, where it has been intensified by the subdivision of one of the old constellations. The ancient constellationArgocovered so large a region of the heavens, and included so many conspicuous stars, that it was divided into four, representing various parts of a ship—the sail, the poop, the prow and the hull.

Dr. Gould, while director of the Cordoba Observatory, during the years 1870 to 1880, constructed the ‘Uranometria Argentina,’ in which all the stars visible to the naked eye more than 10 degrees south of the celestial equator were catalogued and mapped. He made a revision of the boundaries of each constellation in such a way as to introduce greater regularity. The rule generally followed was that the boundaries should, so far as possible, run in either an east and west or a north and south direction on the celestial sphere. They were so drawn that the smallest possible change should be made in the notation of the conspicuous stars; that is, the rule was that, if possible, each bright star should be in the same constellation as before. The question whether this new division shall replace the ancient one is one on which no consensus of view has yet been reached by astronomers. Simplicity is undoubtedly introduced by Gould’s arrangement; yet, in the course of time, owing to precession, the lines on the sphere which now run north and south or east and west will no longer do so, but will deviate almost to any extent. The only advantage then kept will be that the bounding lines will generally be arcs of great circles.

When the heavens began to be carefully studied, two or three centuries ago, new constellations were introduced by Hevelius and other astronomers to fill the vacant spaces left by the ancient ones of Ptolemy. To some of these, rather fantastic names were given; the Bull of Poniatowski, for example. Some of these new additions have been retained to the present time, but in other cases the space occupied by the proposed new constellation was filled up by extending the boundaries of the older ones.

At the present time the astronomical world, by common consent, recognizes eighty-nine constellations in the entire heavens. In this enumerationArgois not counted, but its four subdivisions are taken as separate constellations.

A glance at the heavens will make it evident that the problem of designating a star in such a way as to distinguish it from all its neighbors must be a difficult one. If such be the case with the comparatively small number of stars visible to the naked eye, how must it be with the vast number that can be seen only with the telescope? In the case of the great mass of telescopic stars we have no method of designation except by the position of the star and its magnitude; but with the brighter stars, and, indeed, with all that have been catalogued, other means of identification are available.

It is but natural to give a special name to a conspicuous star. That this was done in very early antiquity we know by the allusion to Arcturus in the Book of Job. At least two such names, Castor and Pollux, have come down to us from classical antiquity, but most of the special names given to the stars in modern times are corruptions of certain Arabic designations. As an example we may mention Aldebaran, a corruption of Al Dabaran—The Follower. There is, however, a tendency to replace these special names by a designation of the stars on a system devised by Bayer early in the seventeenth century.

This system of naming stars is quite analogous to our system of designating persons by a family name and a Christian name. The family name of a star is that of the constellation to which it belongs. The Christian name is a letter of the Greek or Roman alphabet, or a number. As a number of men in different families may have the same Christian name, so the Greek letter or number may be given to a star in any number of constellations without confusion.

The work of Bayer was published under the title of ‘Uranometria,’ of which the first edition appeared in 1601. This work consists mainly of maps of the stars. In marking the stars with letters on the map, the rule followed seems to have been to give the brighter stars the earlier letters in the alphabet. Were this system followed absolutely, the brighter stars should always be called α; the next in order β, etc. But this is not always the case. Thus in the constellationGemini, the brighter star is Pollux, which is marked β, while α is the second brightest. What system, if any, Bayer adopted in detail has been a subject of discussion, but does not appear to have been satisfactorily made out. Quite likely Bayer himself did not attempt accurate observations on the brightness of the stars, but followed the indications given by Ptolemy or the Arabian astronomers. As the number of stars to be named in several constellations exceeds the number of letters in the Greek alphabet, Bayer had recourse, after the Greek alphabet was exhausted, to letters of the Roman alphabet. In this case the letterAwas used as a capital, in order, doubtless, that it should not be confounded with the Greek α. In other cases smaller italics areused. In several catalogues since Bayer, new italic letters have been added by various astronomers. Sometimes these have met with general acceptance, and sometimes not.

Flamsteed was the first Astronomer Royal in England, and observed at Greenwich from 1666 to 1715. Among his principal works is a catalogue of stars in which the positions are given with greater accuracy than had been attained by his predecessors. He slightly altered the Bayer system by introducing numbers instead of Greek letters. This had the advantage that there was no limit to the number of stars which could be designated in each constellation. He assigned numbers to all the brighter stars in the order of their right ascension, irrespective of the letters used by Bayer. These numbers are extensively used to the present day, and will doubtless continue to be the principal designations of the stars to which they refer. It is very common in our modern catalogues to give both the Bayer letter and the Flamsteed number in the case of Bayer stars.

The catalogues by Flamsteed do not include quite all the stars visible to the naked eye, but various uranometries have been published which were intended to include all such stars. In such cases the designations now used frequently correspond to the numbers given in the uranometries of Bode, Argelander and Heis.

In recent times these uranometries have been supplemented by censuses of the stars, which are intended to include all the stars to the ninth or tenth magnitude. I shall speak of these in the next section; at present it will suffice to say that stars are very generally designated by their place in such a census.

There is still here and there some confusion both as to the boundaries of the constellations and as to the names of a few of the stars in them. I have already remarked that, in drawing the imaginary boundaries on a star map, as representing the celestial sphere, different astronomers have placed the lines differently. One of the regions in which this is especially true is in the neighborhood of the north pole, where some astronomers place stars in the constellation Cepheus which others place in Ursa Minor. Hence in the Bayer system the same star may have different names in different catalogues. Again, in extending the names or numbers, some astronomers use names which others do not regard as authoritative. The remapping of the southern constellation by Dr. Gould changed the boundaries of most of the southern constellations in a way already mentioned.

I have spoken of the subdivision of the great constellationArgusinto four separate ones. Bayer having assigned to the principal stars in this constellation the Greek letters α, β, γ, etc., the general practice among astronomers since the subdivision has been to continue the designation of the stars thus marked as belonging to the constellationArgo. Thus, for example, we haveArgus, which after the subdivision belonged to the constellationCarina. The variable star η Argus also belongs to the constellationCarina. But in the case of stars not marked by Bayer, the names were assigned according to the subdivided constellations,Vela,Carina, etc. Confusing though this proceeding may appear to be, it is not productive of serious trouble. The main point is that the same star should always have the same name in successive catalogues. Still, however, it has recently become quite common to ignore the constellationArgusaltogether and use only the names of its subdivisions. The reader must therefore be on his guard against any mistake arising in this way in the study of astronomical literature.

In star catalogues the position of a star in the heavens is sometimes given in connection with its name. In this case the confusion arising from the same star having different names may be avoided, since a star can always be identified by its right ascension and declination. The fact is that, so far as mere identification is concerned, nothing but the statement of a star’s position is really necessary. Unfortunately, the position constantly changes through the precession of the equinoxes, so that this designation of a star is a variable quantity. Hence the special names which we have described are the most convenient to use in the case of well-known stars. In other cases a star is designated by its number in some well-known catalogue. But even here different astronomers choose different catalogues, so that there are still different designations for the same star. The case is one in which action of uniformity of practice is unattainable.

A catalogue or list of stars is a work giving for each star listed its magnitude and its position on the celestial sphere, with such other particulars as may be necessary to attain the object of the catalogue. If the latter includes only the more conspicuous stars, it is common to add the name of each star that has one; if none is recognized, the constellation to which the star belongs is frequently given.

The position of a star on the celestial sphere is defined by its right ascension and declination. These correspond to the longitude and latitude of places on the earth, in the following way: Imagine a plane passing through the center of the earth and coinciding with its equator, to extend out so as to intersect the celestial sphere. The line of intersection will be a great circle of the celestial sphere, called the celestial equator. The axis of the earth, being also indefinitely extended in both the north and the south directions, will meet the celestial spheres in two opposite points, known as the north and south celestial poles. The equator will then be a great circle 90° from eachpole. Then as meridians are drawn from pole to pole on the earth, cutting the equator at different points, so imaginary meridians are conceived as drawn from pole to pole on the celestial sphere. Corresponding to parallels of latitude on the earth we have parallels of declination on the celestial sphere. These are parallel to the equator, and become smaller and smaller as we approach either pole. The correspondence of the terrestrial and celestial circles is this:

Tolatitudeon the earth’s surface correspondsdeclinationin the heavens.

Tolongitudeon the earth correspondsright ascensionin the heavens.

A little study of these facts will show that the zenith of any point on the earth’s surface is always in a declination equal to the latitude of the place. For example, for an observer in Philadelphia, in 40° latitude, the parallel of 40° north declination will always pass through his zenith, and a star of that declination will, in the course of its diurnal motion, also pass through his zenith.

So also to an observer on the equator the celestial sphere always spans the visible celestial hemisphere through the east and west points.

In the case of the right ascension, the relation between the terrestrial and celestial spheres is not constant, because of the diurnal motion, which keeps the terrestrial meridians in constant revolution relative to the celestial meridians. Allowing for this motion, however, the system is the same. As we have on the earth’s surface a prime meridian passing from pole to pole through the Greenwich Observatory, so in the heavens a prime meridian passes from one celestial pole to the other through the vernal equinox. Then to define the right ascension of any star we imagine a great circle passing from pole to pole through the star, as we imagine one to pass from pole to pole through a city on the earth of which we wish to designate the longitude. The actual angle which this meridian makes with the prime meridian is the right ascension of the star as it is the longitude of the place on the earth’s surface.

There is, however, a difference in the unit of angular measurement commonly used for right ascensions in the heavens and longitude on the earth. In astronomical practice, right ascension is very generally expressed by hours, twenty-four of which make a complete circle, corresponding to the apparent revolution of the celestial sphere in twenty-four hours. The reason of this is that astronomers determine right ascension by the time shown by a clock so regulated as to read 0 hrs., 0 min., 0 sec. when the vernal equinox crosses the meridian. The hour hand of this clock makes a revolution through twenty-four hours during the time that the earth makes one revolution on its axis, and thus returns to 0 hrs., 0 min., 0 sec. when the vernal equinox again crosses themeridian. A clock thus regulated is said to show sidereal time. Then the right ascension of any star is equal to the sidereal time at which it crosses the meridian of any point on the earth’s surface. Right ascension thus designated in time may be changed to degrees and minutes by multiplying by 15. Thus, one hour is equal to 15°; one minute of time is equal to 15′ of arc, and one second of time to 1″ of arc.

It may be remarked that in astronomical practice terrestrial longitudes are also expressed in time, the longitude of a place being designated by the number of hours it may be east or west of Greenwich. Thus, Washington is said to be 5h. 8m. 15s. west of Greenwich. This, however, is not important for our present purpose.

The first astronomer who attempted to make a catalogue of all the known stars is supposed to be Hipparchus, who flourished about 150B.C.There is an unverified tradition to the effect that he undertook this work in consequence of the appearance of a new star in the heavens, and a desire to leave on record, for the use of posterity, such information respecting the heavens in his time that any changes which might take place in them could be detected. This catalogue has not come down to us—at least not in its original form.

Ptolemy, the celebrated author of the ‘Almagest,’ flourishedA.D.150. His great work contains the earliest catalogue of stars which we have. There seems to be a certain probability that this catalogue either may be that of Hipparchus adopted by Ptolemy unchanged, or may be largely derived from Hipparchus. This, however, is little more than a surmise, due to the fact that Ptolemy does not seem to have been a great observer, but based his theories very largely on the observations of his predecessors. The actual number of stars which it contains is 1,030. The positions of these are given in longitude and latitude, and are also described by their places in the figure of the constellation to which each may belong. Not unfrequently the longitude or latitude is a degree or more in error, showing that the instruments with which the position was determined were of rather rough construction.

So far as the writer is aware, no attempt to make a new catalogue of the stars is found until the tenth century. Then arose the Persian astronomer, Abd-Al-Rahman Al-Sufi, commonly known as Al-Sufi, who was bornA.D.903 and lived until 986. Nothing is known of his life except that he was a man celebrated for his learning, especially in astronomy. His only work on the latter subject which has come down to us is a description of the fixed stars, which was translated from the Arabic by Schjellerup and published in 1874 by the St. Petersburg Academy of Science. This work is based mainly on the catalogue of Ptolemy, all the stars of which he claimed to have carefully examined. But he did not add any new stars to Ptolemy’s list, nor, it would seem, did he attempt to redetermine their positions. He simply used thelongitudes and latitudes of Ptolemy, the former being increased by 12° 42′ on account of the precession during the interval between his time and that to which Ptolemy’s catalogue was reduced. The translator says of his work that it gives a description of the starry heavens at the time of the author and is worthy of the highest confidence. The main body of the work consists of a detailed description of each constellation, mentioning the positions and appearances of the stars which it contains. Here we find the Arabic names of the stars, which were not, however, used as proper names, but seem rather to have been Arabic words representing some real or supposed peculiarity of the separate stars, or arbitrarily applied to them.

Four centuries later arose the celebrated Ulugh Beigh, grandson of Tamerlane, who reigned at Samarcand in the middle of the fifteenth century. Bailey says of him: “Ulugh Beigh was not only a warlike and powerful monarch, but also an eminent promoter of the sciences and of learned men. During his father’s lifetime he had attracted to his capital all the most celebrated astronomers from different parts of the world; he erected there an immense college and observatory, in which above a hundred persons were constantly occupied in the pursuits of science, and caused instruments to be constructed of a better form and greater dimensions than any that had hitherto been used for making astronomical observations.”

His fate was one which so enlightened a promoter of learning little deserved; he was assassinated by the order of his own son, who desired to succeed him on his throne; and in order to make his position the more secure, also put his only brother to death. A catalogue of the stars bears the name of this monarch; he is supposed to have made many or most of the observations on which it is founded. Posterity will be likely to suppose that a sovereign used the eyes of others more than his own in making the observations. However this may be, his catalogue seems to have been the first in which the positions of the stars given by Ptolemy were carefully revised. He found that there were twenty-seven of Ptolemy’s stars too far south to be visible at Samarcand, and that eight others, although diligently looked after, could not be discovered. It is curious that, like Al-Sufi, he does not seem to have added any new stars to Ptolemy’s list.

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