Astronomy for Amateurs

Among all the celestial phenomena at which it may be our lot to assist during our contemplation of the universe, one of the most magnificent and imposing is undoubtedly that which we are now going to consider. The hirsute comets, and shooting stars with their graceful flight, captivate us with a mysterious and sometimes fantastic attraction. We gladly allow our thoughts, mute questioners of the mysteries of the firmament, to rest upon the brilliant, golden trail they leave behind them. These unknown travelers bring a message from eternity; they tell us the tale of their distant journeys. Children of space, their ethereal beauty speaks of the immensity of the universe. The eclipses, on the other hand, are phenomena that touch us more nearly, and take place in our vicinity. In treating of them, we remain between the Earth and the Moon, in our little province, and witness the picturesque effects of the combined movements of our satellite around us. Have you ever seen a total eclipse of the Sun? [Pg 260] The sky is absolutely clear: no fraction of cloud shadows the solar rays. The azure vault of the firmament crowns the Earth with a dome of dazzling light. The fires of the orb of day shed their beneficent influence generally upon the world. Yet, see! The radiance diminishes. The luminous disk of the Sun is gradually corroded. Another disk, as black as ink, creeps in front of it, and little by little invades it entirely. The atmosphere takes on a wan, sepulchral hue; astonished nature is hushed in profound silence; an immense veil of sadness spreads over the world. Night comes on suddenly, and the stars shine out in the Heavens. It seems as though by some mysterious cataclysm the Sun had disappeared forever. But this tribulation is soon over. The divine orb is not extinct. A flaming jet emerges from the shadow, announcing his return, and when he reappears we see that he has lost nothing in splendor or beauty. He is still the radiant Apollo, King of Day, watching over the life of the planetary worlds. This sudden night, darkening the Heavens in the midst of a fine day, can not fail to produce a vivid impression upon the spectators of the superb phenomenon. The eclipse lasts only for a few moments, but long enough to make a deep impression upon our minds, and indeed to inspire anxious spirits with terror and [Pg 261]agitation—even at this epoch, when we know that there is nothing supernatural or formidable about it. In former days, Humanity would have trembled, in uneasy consternation. Was it a judgment from Heaven? Must it not be the work of some invisible hand throwing the somber veil of night over the celestial torch? Had not the Earth strayed off her appointed path, and were we not all to be deprived eternally of the light of our good Sun? Was some monstrous dragon perhaps preparing to devour the orb of day? The fable of the dragon devouring the Sun or Moon during the eclipses is universal in Asia as in Africa, and still finds acceptance under more than one latitude. But our readers already know that we may identify the terrible celestial dragon with our gentle friend the Moon, who would not be greatly flattered by the comparison. We saw in the preceding lesson that the Moon revolves round us, describing an almost circular orbit that she travels over in about a month. In consequence of this motion, the nocturnal orb is sometimes between the Sun and the Earth, sometimes behind us, sometimes at a right angle in relation to the Sun and the Earth. Now, the eclipses of the Sun occur invariably at the time of New Moon, when our satellite passes between the Sun and ourselves, and the eclipses of the Moon, at the[Pg 262] moment of Full Moon, when the latter is opposite to the Sun, and behind us. This fact soon enabled the astronomers of antiquity to discover the causes to which eclipses are due. The Moon, passing at the beginning of its revolution between the Sun and the Earth, may conceal a greater or lesser portion of the orb of day. In this case there is an eclipse of the Sun. On the other hand, when it is on the other side of the Earth in relation to the Sun, at the moment of Full Moon, our planet may intercept the solar rays, and prevent them from reaching our satellite. The Moon is plunged into the shadow of the Earth, and is then eclipsed. Such is the very simple explanation of the phenomenon. But why is there not an eclipse of the Sun at each New Moon, and an eclipse of the Moon at each Full Moon? If the Moon revolved round us in the same plane as the Earth round the Sun, it would eclipse the Sun at each New Moon, and would be itself eclipsed in our shadow at each Full Moon. But the plane of the lunar orbit dips a little upon the plane of the terrestrial orbit, and the eclipses can only be produced when the New Moon or the Full Moon occur at the line of intersection of these two planes, i.e., when the Sun, the Moon, and the Earth are upon the same straight line. In the majority of cases, instead of interposing itself directly in[Pg 263] front of the sovereign of our system, our satellite passes a little above or a little below him, just as its passage behind us is nearly always effected a little above or below the cone of shadow that accompanies our planet, opposite the Sun. When the Moon intervenes directly in front of the Sun, she arrests the light of the radiant orb, and conceals a greater or less portion of the solar disk. The eclipse is partial if the Moon covers only a portion of the Sun; total if she covers it entirely; annular, if the solar disk is visible all round the lunar disk, as appears when the Moon, in her elliptical orbit, is beyond medium distance, toward the apogee. On the other hand, when the Moon arrives immediately within the cone of shadow that the Earth projects behind it, it is her turn to be eclipsed. She no longer receives the rays of the Sun, and this deprivation is the more marked in that she owes all her brilliancy to the light of the orb of day. The Moon's obscurity is complete if she is entirely plunged into the cone of shadow. In this case, the eclipse is total. But if a portion of her disk emerges from the cone, that part remains illuminated while the light of the other dies out. In that case there is a partial eclipse, and the rounded form of the Earth's shadow can be seen projected upon our satellite, a celestial witness to the spherical nature of our globe. [Pg 264] Under certain conditions, then, the Moon can deprive us of the luminous rays of the Sun, by concealing the orb of day, and in other cases is herself effaced in crossing our shadow. Despite the fables, fears, and anxieties it has engendered, this phenomenon is perfectly natural: the Moon is only playing hide-and-seek with us—a very harmless amusement, as regards the safety of our planet. But as we said just now, these phenomena formerly had the power of terrifying ignorant mortals, either when the orb of light and life seemed on the verge of extinction, or when the beautiful Phœbus was covered with a veil of crape and woe, or took on a deep coppery hue. It would take a volume to describe all the notable events which have been influenced by eclipses, sometimes for good, more often with disastrous consequences. The recital of these tragic stories would not be devoid of interest; it would illustrate the possibilities of ignorance and superstition, and the power man gains from intellectual culture and scientific study. Herodotus records that the Scythians, having some grievance against Cyaxarus, King of the Medes, revenged themselves by serving up the limbs of one of his children, whom they had murdered, at a banquet as rare game. The scoundrels who committed this [Pg 265]atrocious crime took refuge at the Court of the King of Lydia, who was ill judged enough to protect them. War was accordingly declared between the Medes and Lydians, but a total eclipse of the Sun occurring just when the battle was imminent, had the happy effect of disarming the combatants, who prudently retired each to their own country. This eclipse, which seems to have occurred on May 28, 584 B.C., had been predicted by Thales. The French painter Rochegrosse has painted a striking picture of the scene (Fig. 75). In the year 413 B.C. the Athenian General Nicias prepared to return to Greece after an expedition to Sicily. But, terrified by an eclipse of the Moon, and fearing the malign influence of the phenomenon, he put off his departure, and lost the chance of retreat. This superstition cost him his life. The Greek army was destroyed, and this event marks the commencement of the decadence of Athens. In 331 B.C. an eclipse of the Moon disorganized the troops of Alexander, near Arbela, and the great Macedonian Captain had need of all his address to reassure his panic-stricken soldiers. Agathocles, King of Syracuse, blocked by the Carthaginians in the port of this city, had the good fortune to escape, but was disturbed on the second day of his flight by the arrival of a total eclipse of the Sun which alarmed his companions. "What are you afraid of?" said he, spreading his cloak in front of the Sun. "Are you alarmed at a shadow?" (This eclipse seems to be that of August 15, 309, rather than that of March 2, 310.) [Pg 266] Fig. 75.—Battle between the Medes and Lydians arrested by an Eclipse of the Sun. [Pg 267] On June 29, 1033, an epoch at which the approaching end of the world struck terror into all hearts, an annular eclipse of the Sun occurring about midday frustrated the designs of a band of conspirators who intended to strangle the Pope at the altar. This Pope was Benedict IX, a youth of less than twenty, whose conduct is said to have been anything but exemplary. The assassins, terrified at the darkening of the Sun, dared not touch the Pontiff, and he reigned till 1044.[15] On March 1, 1504, a lunar eclipse saved the life of Christopher Columbus. He was threatened with death by starvation in Jamaica, where the contumacious savages refused to give him provisions. Forewarned of the arrival of this eclipse by the astronomical almanacs, he threatened to deprive the Caribs of the light of the Moon—and kept his word. The eclipse had hardly begun when the terrified Indians flung themselves at his feet, and brought him all that he required. In all times and among all people we find traces of popular superstitions connected with eclipses. Here, the abnormal absence of the Moon's light is regarded as a sign of divine anger: the humble penitents betake[Pg 268] themselves to prayer to ward off the divine anger. There, the cruelty of the dread dragon is to be averted: he must be chased away by cries and threats, and the sky is bombarded with shots to deliver the victim from his monstrous oppressor. In France the announcement of a solar eclipse for August 21, 1560, so greatly disturbed our ancestors' peace of mind as to make them idiotic. Preparations were made for assisting at an alarming phenomenon that threatened Humanity with deadly consequences! The unhappy eclipse had been preceded by a multitude of ill omens! Some expected a great revolution in the provinces and in Rome, others predicted a new universal deluge, or, on the other hand, the conflagration of the world; the most optimistic thought the air would be contaminated. To preserve themselves from so many dangers, and in accordance with the physicians' orders, numbers of