eprivation 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.

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 Phoebus 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 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