The Moon: A Popular Treatise

by Garrett Putman Serviss

“Not quite, for I have not yet told you why the moon is not eclipsed every time she approaches the earth’s shadow, and why she does not eclipse the sun once every month at the time of New Moon.”

“Well, tell me then, and I promise to be as interested as possible; only please don’t talk any more mathematics than is absolutely necessary.”

“Very well, I’ll spare your attention as much as possible. To begin with the eclipses of the moon: The reason why they are not of regular monthly occurrence is simply because the orbit of the moon is a little inclined, about 5¼°, to the orbit of the earth. Even then there would be an eclipse once every month if the orbit of the moon were fixed in space, and if the point where that orbit crosses the plane of the earth’s orbit were always directly opposite to the sun. But instead of being fixed in position the orbit of the moon has a curious motion of revolution of its own. This causes the two opposite points, where it crosses the plane of the earth’s orbit, and which are called the moon’s ‘nodes,’ to move continually onward in a direction opposite to that in which the moon revolves, but much more slowly. A period of about nineteen years is required for the moon’s nodes to complete a revolution. The consequence is that the nodes are not always in line with the earth and the sun, and except when they are nearly in line no eclipse can occur. To enter into a complete explanation of this would require more ‘mathematics’ than you would like, but what I have said may at least serve to give you an idea of the reason why eclipses are comparatively of rare occurrence.”

“I think I understand the reason sufficiently. But what a complicated affair you astronomers make of what, it seems to me, should really be a very simple thing.”

“It is like a sewing machine,” I replied, “which seems very simple when you see it running smoothly, and do not trouble yourself about all the various parts of its mechanism. But if you undertake to explain to yourself, or to make clear to another person, exactly how the machine works, you find that your attention is rather severely taxed, and that the apparent simplicity is based upon no little complexity of construction and interaction of parts. You will have understood from what I have said, that the reason why the moon does not eclipse the sun once every month is based upon the same fact, namely, the inclination of the moon’s orbit to the plane of the orbit of the earth; and that when she does eclipse the sun her nodes must be somewhere near a line drawn from the earth to the sun. There is one broad difference between an eclipse of the moon and an eclipse of the sun which I have not yet mentioned. This arises from the fact that the moon being so much smaller than the earth, her shadow, when she hides the sun, does not cover the entire earth, as the earth’s shadow covers the whole moon, but comes almost to a point before reaching the earth. The average length of the moon’s shadow is only 232,150 miles, 6,690 miles less than the average distance between the moon and the earth. But since, in consequence of the eccentricity of her orbit, the moon’s distance is continually varying, the length of her shadow also varies to the extent of about 4,000 miles each way. Thus it may be as short as 228,300 miles, or as long as 236,050 miles. When the greatest length of the moon’s shadow coincides with her least distance from the earth (221,600 miles), her shadow extends more than 18,000 miles beyond the earth. Under such circumstances its diameter at the surface of the earth is about 167 miles. That is the greatest diameter that the shadow of the moon can have at its intersection with the earth. Ordinarily, when it reaches the earth at all, its diameter is less than 100 miles, and often very much less. If the earth and the moon were motionless during an eclipse, her shadow would form a round, dark spot on the earth, and all observers within the circumference of that spot would behold the sun totally eclipsed. But, in consequence both of the motion of the moon in her orbit, and the rotation of the earth on its axis, the shadow spot moves swiftly in an easterly direction over the earth’s surface, forming what is called the path of the eclipse. The astronomer calculates beforehand across what parts of the earth the path will lie, and selects his points of observation accordingly.

“When the length of the shadow is too small to reach the earth, the moon appears projected against the sun as a round black disk, hiding the center of the solar orb, but leaving a brilliant ring all around. Such phenomena are called annular eclipses. There are about three annular eclipses for every two total ones. When the moon, as often occurs, does not traverse the center of the sun’s disk, as seen from any part of the earth, a partial eclipse is the result. This means that only a portion of the sun is hidden by the moon. Even a total eclipse appears as a partial one to observers who are not placed within the limits of the shadow path.”

“But it seems to me,” said my friend, “you have hedged round your eclipses with so many difficulties, what with the tip of the moon’s orbit, and what with the shortness of her shadow, that they must be very few in number. Yet I often hear of an eclipse, although I have never seen one before to-night.”

“They are not so rare as you might suppose,” I replied. “It is not necessary, in order that an eclipse, either partial, or total, or annular, may occur, that the moon’s nodes be in a direct line with the centers of the sun and the earth. The moon may be a few degrees out of line, and yet either pass into the earth’s shadow or be seen crossing the sun from one point or another on the earth. There are about 70 eclipses in every eighteen years, 41 of the sun and 29 of the moon, but the number varies a little. Generally there can be no more than two eclipses of the moon in any one year, but it is possible for three to occur. The greatest number of solar eclipses in a year is five, but this is very rare, the usual number being two. In fact, there must be at least two solar eclipses in a year, but there are many years which have no eclipses of the moon at all. And now, I think I have said all that is necessary about eclipses, and we arrive very opportunely at the end of the discourse, for behold the moon is passing out of the shadow, and her light begins once more to glow in the park.”

This was indeed the case. Going to the door, we saw the earth’s shadow slowly withdrawing from the face of the moon, while the landscape was brightening under her returning rays. For a few minutes we watched, in silence, the brilliant spectacle. Then my companion turned to me.

“Would you know my whole thought?” she asked. “I fear that I cannot recall many of the scientific facts you have just been telling me, but for them I can go back, at need, to the books. Yet one thing I feel that I have certainly gained. It is a sense of friendly, companionable interest in the moon. Henceforth she will be more to me than she ever was before. I shall always be conscious, when looking at her face, that she is the offspring of the earth, and that there exists between these two bodies an intimacy that I had never imagined possible. For me your tides and your eclipses seem an inarticulate language, a caressing exchange of communications between these two celestial beings of one blood. To my mind they are, in a certain sense, personalities, and, as a creature of the earth, I feel now my relationship to the moon.”