Date: November 19, 2011
Title: Under a Story Sky
Podcaster: David Ault
Links: www.davidault.co.uk
www.darkerprojects.com
Description: Today’s podcast is slightly different from normal, though in a sense it brings us back to the origins of astronomy. David Ault tells the story behind one of his favourite constellations in the night sky.
Bio: David has been across North America reviewing science centres and now goes across the country telling stories to primary school children. Earlier on this year he directed The Big Bang East Midlands, celebrating STEM projects in that region, before rehearsing a nationally-touring theatre show. Life continues apace!
Sponsor: This episode of “365 Days of Astronomy” has been sponsored by — NO ONE. We still need sponsors for many days in 2011, so please consider sponsoring a day or two. Just click on the “Donate” button on the lower left side of this webpage, or contact us at signup@365daysofastronomy.org.
Transcript:
Under a Story Sky
Today’s podcast is slightly different from normal, though in a sense it brings us back to the origins of astronomy. Recently I’ve become a storyteller, and I wanted to tell you the story behind my second-favourite constellation in the night sky.
It’s not often you discover you’re the son of a God, let alone the Sun God, Pheobus Apollo. For Phaethon, this news was something of great pride, and he wanted to tell everyone that it was his father that daily drove the Sun’s dazzling chariot across the heavens. Unfortunately, most people simply weren’t interested, or even openly mocked him for his parentage. His mother told him the answer – he should go to his father and demand a sign, a token, something that would prove his claims.
One day then, he came to the golden palace of Phoebus, where his father sat dressed in purple on an marble throne. Around him stood his ministers and henchmen, the Hours, the Days, the Months and noblest of all, the Seasons: Spring was wreathed in fresh blossoms, Summer crowned with leaves, Autumn in dazzling colours of orange and red and Winter shivering in white. Phaethon’s breath was taken away by these sights, and it was only the booming of Apollo’s voice that brought his mind back to the task at hand. “Phaethon! My son, welcome to the halls of heaven!” he said, taking off his crown forged of the Sun’s rays. “What brings you here?”
Phaethon approached cautiously, but with every step gained confidence, especially on seeing his father’s beaming face. He explained that no-one believed that he was the son of a god, and asked for a sign to be given to the whole world, that everyone might know the truth. Apollo was more than happy to provide such a pledge, and told his son that he could have anything he wanted, especially as he journeyed such a way to get it. Phaethon paused for a moment to think, but he knew exactly what he wanted: “Let me drive the Sun across the sky today please!”
A cloud passed over the face of Apollo – this wasn’t what he had intended, so he shook his head with dread. “My son, the chariot of the Sun is not something a mortal can drive – even the other gods would not dare ask me for the reins. Only I can master the horses, withstand the heat and keep the Sun on its precise course. Name anything else and it shall be yours. Whatever you please, I swear by the River Styx that it will be done.”
Phaethon however was not that easily swayed. He knew what he wanted, and he begged, pleaded and cajoled until his father, with many protestations, gave in. He had made an oath, and nothing could change that. If his child wanted to drive the Sun’s chariot, that must be so.
It was soon time to be off, as Aurora, goddess of the dawn, had already drawn back the rosy curtains of the East. Apollo led his son out to the golden chariot that was studded with sparkling jewels, each so rich that Phaethon couldn’t help but think himself the luckiest man alive. The stars were disappearing, the dawn growing and the signal thus given for the horses to be brought out from their stables. The Hours fitted their harnesses to the chariot and Apollo gave his son a balm to withstand the heat, all the while warning Phaethon of the dangerous job ahead. “Make sure you follow the path through all the animals – watch out for the horns of the bull, the roaring mouth of the lion, the claws of the scorpion and the crab. Go from east to west, but don’t go to close to the Earth or it will be burnt, nor too far away or it will freeze… of course if you don’t want to go that’s even better…” Phaethon however had already taken the reins and the horses bounded off.
All started well, as Phaethon’s confidence took him through the morning mists, but soon the swiftness of the horses made him lose his nerve. They, too, could feel something was wrong, as the chariot was lighter and the reins were looser the usual; and so, they ran. Here and there they ran, away from the set path and speed and Phaethon was powerless to stop them. He tried to call them, but he didn’t know their names. He pulled on the ropes, but the horses took no notice – Phaethon wished harder than anything else now that he would be saved from this – in fact, that he never would have had this gift in the first place.
The horses reared upwards and turned the clouds to smoke, then plunged downwards towards the ocean. In the heat the grass withered, the crops were scorched, trees burnt and the ground became cracked and dusty. The rivers dried up, lakes began to boil and the fish were left to sizzle in the searing heat. The mountains were no longer snow-capped, the tundra no longer frozen; even Atlas, holding up the Earth, had difficulty protecting his shoulders. As cities were burned up one by one, the poor, helpless Phaethon could only watch and wail in horror at what was befalling him. He prayed to his father for rescue, but his voice was drowned out by the cries of the ordinary people calling for rescue from destruction.
Zeus heard those cries, and starting from his noonday nap he picked up a thunderbolt and hurled it at the chariot. Down fell Phaethon into the River Eridanus, his body smouldering as the water engulfed him. The horses shook off their shackles and returned to their stalls, turning midday to night, save for the fires that were still raging through the burning forests. His father mourned, his mother and sisters came to the river and wept so bitterly that they were transformed into poplars to drip tears of amber into the river. It was, however, his best friend Cygnus who brings us back to the stars – he dived into the river to retrieve the body, but it was nowhere to be found. Again and again he dived, until Zeus in his pity turned Cygnus into a swan so that he could keep trying to find Phaethon’s body. Cygnus was lifted up and placed in the stars so that he could continue to swim through the Milky Way, where he still searches today.
End of podcast:
365 Days of Astronomy
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