To those who rightly appreciate its meaning the Milky Way is the most magnificent of all astronomical phenomena. However opinions may vary as to the configuration of the star-streams composing this object, no doubt now exists among astronomers that the Milky Way consists really of suns, some doubtless falling short of our own sun in brilliancy, but many probably surpassing it. Around these suns, we may fairly conceive, there revolve systems of dependent orbs, each supporting its myriads of living creatures. We have afforded to us a noble theme for contemplation in the consideration of the endless diversities of structure, and of arrangement, which must prevail throughout this immensity of systems.

The Galaxy traverses the constellation Cassiopeia. Thence it throws off a branch toward Alpha Persei (Mirfak), prolonged faintly toward the Pleiades. The main stream, here faint, passes on through Auriga, between the feet of Gemini and the Bull’s horns, over Orion’s club to the neck of Monoceros. Thence, growing gradually brighter, the stream passes over the head of Canis Major, in a uniform stream, until it enters the prow of Argo, where it subdivides. One stream continues to Gamma Argus, the other diffuses itself broadly, forming a fan-like expanse of interlacing branches, which terminate abruptly on a line through Lambda and Gamma Argus. Here there is a gap beyond which the Milky Way commences in a similar fan-shaped grouping, converging on the brilliant (and in other respects remarkable) star Eta Argus. Thence, it enters the Cross by a narrow neck, and then directly expands into a broad, bright mass, extending almost to Alpha Centauri. Within this mass is a singular cavity known as the Coal-Sack. At Alpha Centauri the Milky Way again subdivides, a branch running off at an angle of 20°, and losing itself in a narrow streamlet. The main stream increases in breadth, until, “making an abrupt elbow,” it subdivides into one continuous but irregular stream, and a complicated system of interlacing streams covering the region around the tail and following claw of Scorpio. A wide interval separates this part of the Galaxy from the great branch on the northern side, terminating close on Beta Ophiuchi.

The main stream, after exhibiting several very remarkable condensations, passes through Aquila, Sagitta, and Vulpecula to Cygnus. In Cygnus there is a “confused and patchy” region marked by a broad vacancy, not unlike the Coal-Sack. From this region there is thrown off the offset to Beta Ophiuchi, already mentioned; the main stream is continued to Cassiopeia.

Fig. 16.—The Midnight Sky, with Milky Way

There only remains to be noticed “a considerable offset or protuberant appendage,” thrown from the head of Cepheus directly toward the pole. Galileo was the first to prove, though earlier astronomers had entertained the notion, that the Milky Way was composed of a vast number of stars crowded closely together. But no attempt was made to offer a theory of its structure until, in 1754 Thomas Wright, in his Theory of the Universe, propounded views closely according with those entertained later by Sir W. Herschel. Wright, having examined a portion of the Galaxy with a reflecting telescope, only one foot in focal length, came to the conclusion that our sun is in the midst of a vast stratum of stars; that it is when we look along the direction in which this stratum extends that we see the zone of light constituting the Milky Way; and that as the line of sight is inclined at a greater and greater angle to the mean plane of the stratum, the apparent density of the star-grouping gradually diminishes.

But it is to Sir W. Herschel, and the supplementary labors of Sir J. Herschel, that we owe the more definite views now commonly entertained respecting the Via Lactea. The elder Herschel, whose nobly speculative views of nature were accompanied by practical common-sense, and a wonderful power of patient observation, applied to the heavens his celebrated method of gauging. He assumed as a first principle, to be modified by the results of observation, that there is a tolerable uniformity in the distribution of stars through space. Directing his twenty-foot reflector successively toward different parts of the heavens, he counted the number of stars which were visible at any single view. The field of view of this reflector was fifteen minutes in diameter, so that the portion of the sky included in any one view was less than one-fourth of that covered by the moon. He found the number of stars visible in different parts of the heavens in a field of view of this size to be very variable. Sometimes there were but two or three stars in the field;[20] indeed, on one occasion he counted only three stars in four fields. In other parts of the heavens the whole field was crowded with stars. In the richer parts of the Galaxy as many as four hundred or five hundred stars would be visible at once, and on one occasion he saw as many as five hundred and eighty-eight. He calculated that in one-quarter of an hour 116,000 stars traversed the field of his telescope, when the richest part of the Galaxy was under observation. Now, on the assumption above named, the number of stars visible when the telescope was pointed in any given direction was a criterion of the depth of the bed of stars in that direction. Thus, by combining a large number of observations, a conception—rough, indeed, but instructive—might be formed of the figure of that stratum of stars within which our sun is situated.

Sir J. Herschel, during his residence at the Cape of Good Hope, carried out an extensive series of observations of the southern heavens. Applying his father’s methods of gauging with a telescope of equal power, he obtained a result agreeing, in a most remarkable manner, with those obtained by Sir William Herschel. It appeared, however, that the Southern Hemisphere is somewhat richer in stars than the Northern—a result which has been accepted as indicating that our system is probably somewhat nearer the southern than the northern part of the galactic nebula. Moreover, Sir J. Herschel was led to believe that the sidereal system forms a cloven flat ring rather than a disk.

I think no one who has attentively examined the glories of Orion, the richly jeweled Taurus, the singular festoon of stars in Perseus, and the closely set stars of Cassiopeia, but must have felt that the association of splendor along this streak of the heavens is not wholly accidental. The stars here seem to form a system, and a system which one can hardly conceive to be wholly unconnected with the neighboring stream of the Milky Way. But in the southern portion the arrangement is yet more remarkable and significant. From Scorpio, over the feet of the Centaur, over the keel of Argo, to Canis Major, there is a clustering of brilliant stars, which it seems wholly impossible not to connect with the background of nebulous light. It is noteworthy, also, that this stream of stars merges into the stream commencing with the group of Orion, already noticed. Nor is this all. It is impossible not to be struck by the marked absence of bright stars in the region of the heavens between Algol, Crux, and Corvus. One has the impression that the stars have been attracted toward the region of the stream indicated, so as to leave this space comparatively bare.