The Caldwell Objects

his maiden voyage of discovery in 1492 that
Columbus glimpsed four stars in the form of a
cross over the West Indies. Surprisingly, he
believed that these stars were the ones referred to
in Dante's allegory. Richard Hinckley Allen notes
that on Amerigo Vespucci's 1501 voyage,
Vespucci "called to mind the passages from
Dante, insisting that he himself was the first of
Europeans to see Four Stars." Alas, Vespucci did
not see these stars in the form of a cross but as
Mandorla, "an almond." But do not despair;
Vespucci's reference was not to the tasty treat but
to the vescica piscis, or "oblong glory," surrounding
the bodies of saints ascending to
heaven in Italian art. Of course, today many
people don't seem to care much about virtues
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or oblong glories (unless they're chastising
politicians or enjoying an X-Files episode in
which someone is ascending into an alien
spaceship). But we all like to listen to music. And
what better verse summarizes the spirit of
adventure than this one, from "The Southern
Cross" by Crosby, Stills, and Nash: "When you
see the Southern Cross for the first time you'll
understand now why you came this way."
Actually, most people who see the Southern
Cross for the first time don't understand why it's
so small. In fact, it doesn't even look like a cross
(the way we think of one today) but a kite. So
much for poetry and romance. I honestly believe
the romance of the Southern Cross lies not in its
handful of brilliant stars but in the
The Caldwell Objects 377