This entry is part 7 of 7 in the series RAINBOW

The Violet Crown

City of light, with thy violet crown, beloved of the poets, thou art the bulwark of Greece.

–Pindar, Fragment 76

The drawing-rooms of one of the most magnificent private residences in Austin are ablaze of lights. Carriages line the streets in front, and from gate to doorway is spread a velvet carpet, on which the delicate feet of the guests may tread. The occasion is the entrée into society of one of the fairest buds in the City of the Violet Crown.

–O. Henry, Tictocq: The Great French Detective, In Austin

Athens, Greece, and Austin, Texas, are a third of the world away from each other, and, culturally, they might seem a full planet apart, but they share a common nickname: City of the Violet Crown.

Unlike something like “Queen City,” which adorns dozens of incorporations across the globe, City of the Violet Crown is specific enough to wonder what’s going on with these disparate towns.

As you might expect, Austin’s usage postdates the Athens moniker, but both have a literary connection and, seemingly, an environmental one, as well.

Many scholars believe Pindar, one of the nine canonical lyric poets of Ancient Greece, used “violet crown” to describe sunsets in Athens. Because the Attic Peninsula is dry but filled with dust, the setting Sun can often cast purplish hues in addition to the usual reds and oranges. By some accounts, the surrounding mountains can be covered in a pall of violet haze, perhaps leading to the metaphorical image of violet crowns.

Settled in 1835, Austin began to flourish at the end of the 19th century. After the state established the University of Texas in 1883, residents began to think of Austin as an enlightened spot in the Americas, likening it to the scholasticism of Ancient Greece. To some residents, Austin became the “Athens of the South.”

Though this collegial connection came from within, some people noticed another bond between the two A cities. Though hardly as dry as Athens, the citizens of Austin often gazed upon violet light shows at sunset. In Texas, some sources claim the particulates responsible for the hue are cedar pollen.

A prominent resident of Austin in the 1880s and 90s was William Sydney Porter. In 1894, he penned a short story called Tictocq: The Great French Detective, In Austin, in which he utilized the nascent term “City of the Violet Crown.” Later, while serving a five-year prison sentence for embezzlement, Porter took to prosaic proliferation under a slew of pen names, one of which was O. Henry. Some academics lean on Henry’s inherent satirical bent to suggest he might have known the connection to Pindar and poked slight fun at Austin for hometown suggestions of comparisons to Athens.

The Wikipedia entry for City of the Violet Crown notes a possible connection between the phenomenon and another, called the Belt of Venus.

Also known as the antitwilight arch, the Belt of Venus is a glowing strip that occurs at sunrise and sunset on the anti-solar side. The band spreads out about 10 to 20 degrees above the horizon, above a dark wedge created by Earth’s shadow. The belt transpires when the Sun is slightly below the horizon, but still close enough to send some light over the planet. This light bounces off the atmosphere, creating a sliver just above the sky-matter junction. Just like regular rises and sets, the Belt of Venus is devoid of blue light because of how it scatters through our atmosphere, leaving mainly red, orange, or peach tones.

Though the Belt of Venus is largely composed of colors on the red side of the visible spectrum, the dark wedge of Earth’s shadow features colors on the opposite side of the spectrum.

In many photographs of this interplay, blue and purple hues can easily emerge. Perhaps in areas with particular particulates, the violet colors can pop, leading to the appearance of a crown.