FULL MOON TO OLD MOON

The Moon: A Popular Treatise by Garrett Putman Serviss is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here. FULL MOON TO OLD MOON

FULL MOON TO OLD MOON

After dinner, in the brilliantly lighted drawing-room, we once more spread out the photographs on a table.

“This time,” I said, taking up No. 14, “we are going to watch the advance of night over the moon. Before, it was the march of sunrise that we followed. Both begin at the same place, the western edge or limb of the moon. Comparing this photograph, which was taken when the moon was about fifteen and two-third days old, with No. 13, taken when the moon’s age was more than a day less, you perceive, at a glance, wherein the chief difference lies. In No. 13 sunrise is just reaching the eastern limb; in No. 14 sunset has begun at the western limb. Having watched day sweep across the lunar world, we shall now see night following on its track. West of the Mare Crisium and the Mare Fœcunditatis, which I expect you to recognize on sight by this time, darkness has already fallen, and the edge of the moon in that direction 132is invisible. The long, cold night of a fortnight’s duration has begun its reign there. The setting sun illuminates the western wall of the ring mountain Langrenus, which you will remember was one of the first notable formations of the kind that we saw emerging in the lunar morning. But then it was its eastern wall that was most conspicuous in the increasing sunlight. For the selenographer the difference of aspect presented by the various objects of the lunar world when seen first under morning and then under evening illumination is extremely interesting and important. Many details not readily seen, or not visible at all, in the one case become conspicuous in the other. But it is only close along the line where night is advancing that notable changes are to be seen. Over the general surface of the moon there is not yet any perceptible change, because the sunshine still falls nearly vertical upon it. Tycho’s rays are as conspicuous as ever. Aristarchus, away over on the eastern side, is, if possible, brighter than before, and the three small dark ovals, Endymion a little west of the north (or lower) point, Plato at the edge of the Mare Imbrium, and Grimaldi near the bright eastern limb, are all conspicuous.”

No. 14. August 26, 1904; Moon’s Age 15.65 Days.

“But look!” exclaimed my friend, putting her finger upon the photograph. “Here is something that you have not mentioned at all. I believe 133that I have made a discovery, although you probably will not accept it as a scientific one. I see here a dark woman in the moon.”

“I confess,” I replied, “that I am not acquainted with her, and do not even see her. Please point her out to me.”

“She appears in profile, like the brilliant Moon Maiden, but is not so much of a beauty. In fact I begin to suspect that she is the ‘Old Woman in the Moon,’ that I have often heard of.”

“Positively I do not see her.”

“Then I will try to recall some of the names that you have been telling me in order to indicate where you should. She faces west and occupies most of the eastern half of the disk. Her head is under Tycho, toward the northeast, I suppose you would say. The bright double ray that you pointed out in one of the preceding pictures lies across the top of her head and over her ear. Her face seems to be formed by a part of the Mare Nubium—you observe how well I have learned your selenographical terms—and her hooked nose is composed of a kind of bay, projecting into the bright part below Tycho. Her front hair is banged, and the Mare Humorum constitutes her chignon. She has a short neck, and a humped back, consisting of the Oceanus Procellarum. Copernicus resembles a starry badge that she wears on her breast, and Aristarchus glitters 134on the inner side of the elbow of her long arm. The Mare Imbrium seems to be a sort of round, bulky object that she carries on her knee, and she appears to be gazing with intentness in the direction of the Mare Tranquillitatis.”

“Ah, yes,” I said, laughing, “I see her plainly enough now. I really cannot say that your discovery is likely to be recorded in astronomical annals, but nevertheless I congratulate you upon having made it, if only for the reason that henceforth you can never forget the names and locations of the lunar ‘seas’ and other objects that you have been compelled to remember in pointing out your ‘dark woman.’ In truth, her features are almost as well marked as those of the Moon Maiden, but you will hardly be able to find her again, except in a photograph, or with the aid of a telescope, because you must recollect that this picture shows the moon reversed top for bottom as compared with her appearance to the naked eye, or with an opera glass. But please look again at the objects along the western edge, for we are about to turn our attention to photograph No. 15 in which this will be no longer visible. You must say ‘good-by,’ or rather ‘good night,’ to the Mare Crisium and the Mare Fœcunditatis; for you will see them no more, until another lunar day has dawned.”

We next picked up photograph No. 15.

No. 15. August 28, 1904; Moon’s Age 17.41 Days.

“Here the age of the moon has increased to nearly seventeen and a half days. The sunset line has advanced to the borders of the Mare Nectaris and the Mare Tranquillitatis. Toward the south a vast region which was very brilliant in the morning and midday light with the reflections from mountain slopes and the rays of Tycho, has passed under the curtain of night. The great crater rings on the eastern border of the Mare Nectaris, and thence upward to the South Pole, are beginning to reappear, but with the shadows of their walls thrown in a direction opposite to that which they assumed before. By a little close inspection you will recognize Theophilus and its neighbors which were so conspicuous for many days while the sunrise was advancing, but which have been almost concealed in the universal glare of the perpendicular sunshine since the Full Moon phase was approached. On the Mare Tranquillitatis and the Mare Serenitatis it is late afternoon, and your favorite ‘Marsh of a Dream’ has become a true dreamland.”

“This oncoming of night,” said my friend, “seems to me more imposing, and more suggestive of mystery than was the advance of day.”

“Surely it is. Do we not experience similar sensations when night silently creeps over the earth? But it imparts a feeling of loneliness and desolation when we watch it swallowing up 136the barren mountains and plains of the lunar world that we do not experience in terrestrial life. There are no cheerful interiors on the moon to which one can retreat when darkness hides the landscapes. There is another thing about the lunar night to which I have made but scant reference thus far. I mean it’s more than Arctic chill. Imagine yourself standing there in the midst of the broad plain of the Mare Tranquillitatis. Toward the east you would see the sun close to the horizon, yet blazing bright and hot, without clouds or mists to temper its rays. The rocks or soil beneath your feet would perhaps be cold to the touch, because the surface of the moon radiates away the heat very quickly, but your face and hands would be almost scorched by the intense solar beams. Looking toward the west you would see the shining tips of mountains suddenly extinguished, one after another, and when the sharply defined edge of the advancing night passed over you it would be as if you had plunged into a cold bath. In a little while, if you remained motionless, you would be frozen. No clothing would suffice to keep you warm. Nothing that polar explorers have ever experienced can be likened to the cold of the lunar night. Only the apparatus of the laboratories for producing temperatures, capable, when combined with pressure, of liquifying and solidifying the air itself, can bring 137about upon the earth a lowering of temperature comparable with that which occurs during the lunar night.”

“But I do not exactly see why night should be so much colder on the moon than on the earth. She is not farther from the sun.”

“No, her average distance from the sun is the same as that of the earth. The reason why her nights are so cold is to be found in the absence of an atmosphere like ours. The air is the earth’s blanket, which serves a double purpose, tempering the heat by day with its vapors and winds, and keeping the earth warm at night by preventing the rapid radiation into space of the heat accumulated during the daylight hours. If there is any atmosphere at all upon the moon—and I shall tell you by and by what has been learned on that subject—it is so rare as compared with ours that it can exercise very little effect upon the temperature of the lunar surface.

“Now, look at the great range of the lunar Apennines. You will see that the eastern faces of these mountains are in the sunlight, and they cast no shadows, as they did in the lunar morning, over the Mare Imbrium. The same is true of the lunar Caucasus, and the lunar Alps. All of these mountains are very steep on the side facing the plains, and that is the side presented sunward in the lunar afternoon. By turning to 138photograph No. 16, we shall see this phenomenon more clearly displayed. This photograph, measured by the age of the moon when it was taken, is more than a day older than the other, but once again the effect of libration has, in part, counteracted for us the advance of the line of sunset. Still it has distinctly advanced. You will observe that it has now passed completely across the Mare Nectaris, and more than half across the Mare Tranquillitatis, while only the mountain tops along the western edge of the Mare Serenitatis remain to indicate its outlines in that direction. Theophilus, Cyrillus, and Catharina, on the eastern border of the Mare Nectaris, have again become very conspicuous, but this time in evening instead of morning light. See how sharply the western wall of Theophilus stands out against the darkness of night behind it, and how its central peak glows in the setting sun while all the vast hollow beneath it is black. The floors of Cyrillus and Catharina, being less profoundly sunken, are still illuminated. Below the Mare Serenitatis, the twin rings, Aristoteles and Eudoxus, are very conspicuous, and they show the same change of illumination as Theophilus, their western sides being strongly illuminated on their inner faces, while the eastern walls cast shadows into the interior. The mountainous character of the surface in the neighborhood of the North Pole of the 139moon seems to be more clearly brought out in evening than in morning light. In this picture the North Polar Region seems to be almost as much broken up with gigantic rings as is that surrounding the South Pole. In both cases, you observe, many of the rings are poised just on the edge of the lunar disk, and their libration alternately swings them in or out of view.”

No. 16. August 29, 1904; Moon’s Age 18.62 Days.

“Then the other side of the moon may not be very different from the side that is turned toward us.”

“In its general features I doubt if it is at all different. There was once a theory, which had considerable vogue, that the side of the moon turned away from the earth presented a great contrast with its earthward side. A German mathematician, Hansen, drew conclusions, which are no longer accepted, as to the form of the moon. He thought that the moon was elongated in the direction of the earth, somewhat like an egg, her center of figure being about thirty miles nearer to us than her center of gravity. This, if true, would make the part of the lunar surface that we see lie at a great elevation as compared with the other part, and the center of gravity being toward the other side would cause the atmosphere and water to gravitate in that direction.”

“What a pity that so interesting a theory should have been abandoned!”

140“If interest were the only test of the value of a scientific theory knowledge would not advance very fast. Notice how this very photograph before us vindicates the true scientific attitude toward nature. It records all the facts within its range, and leaves the theories to us. The features of your ‘dark woman’ are, in their way, as clearly marked in the photograph as is the range of the lunar Apennines. It is for us to recognize the essential difference between the interpretations which we choose to put upon these two phenomena. Giving play to fancy, we see the figure of an old woman in the one case, and employing our reason we find a chain of unmistakable mountains in the other.”

“But surely you do not mean to aver that science has no other business than that of recording facts.”

“By no means. It is also the business of science to find hypotheses and to build up theories that will explain its facts and connect them together systematically, according to some underlying law. But as I have just intimated it is the mark of true science that it never retains a theory merely because it is interesting. The truth is the only touchstone. Still, even the most conscientious scientific investigator may be misled by his imagination. His greatest virtue is that he never lets his fancies deceive him after he has 141recognized their false character. Point out your ‘dark woman’ to the child, or the savage, and it will be in vain afterward to explain that her profile is made up of plains and mountains. The child and the savage are not scientific but imaginative, and only after a long education will they abandon the apparent for the real.

“I will ask you now to take up photograph No. 17. The age of the moon here is twenty days. Comparing it with the last photograph we see that Theophilus has disappeared, although Cyrillus and Catharina, being a little farther east, are yet visible. Half of the Mare Serenitatis is buried in night, and only a little of the eastern edge of the Mare Tranquillitatis remains visible. Aristoteles and Eudoxus are now very close to the terminator, and the shadows of their eastern walls are spreading farther over their floors. Aristarchus is very brilliant, as it is still early afternoon on that part of the moon, and the sunshine is intense. Observe that Kepler, the crater ring directly east of Copernicus, has become more conspicuous than we have seen it in any preceding photograph. This is especially true of the system of bright rays surrounding it, and it is due to the change of illumination. In the southern part of the moon, west of Tycho, you will now recognize many gigantic formations which we first saw when the sun was rising over 142them. Some of them are even more prominent in the sunset light. Among these is our old acquaintance Maurolycus, whose western wall is so brilliant that it resembles a tiny crescent moon. The double row of broad, dish-shaped walled plains along the central meridian has also become visible once more. In fact the amount of delicate detail and the sharpness of the definition in these photographs are very remarkable. Observe the curious mottling of the ‘seas.’ It is in some of the differences of tint, which correspond in telescopic views of the moon more or less closely with the varying shades in the photographs, that some selenographers have thought they could detect evidences of the presence of vegetation on the moon. We shall talk about that more in detail another time. It is sufficient just now to notice that the beds of the mares are by no means uniform either in tint or in level. All of them are more or less ‘rolling,’ like many of our prairies, and often winding chains of hills and huge cracklike ravines are visible in them. In this photograph the amount of detail shown in the Mare Imbrium is particularly striking. Notice how some of the crinkled rays from Copernicus extend almost to the center of the ‘sea,’ and how in front of the precipitous base of the Apennine range the lighter-colored ground, with three prominent ring plains in it, presents the appearance 143of shallows. Lying off the shore south of Plato and the Alps a number of isolated mountain peaks are seen, mere white specks on the gray background. The undulating character of the ‘bottom’ of the ‘Bay of Rainbows’ is also distinctly indicated. By the way, I should perhaps mention the names of the three rings lying off the front of the Apennines, for although they are among the most interesting on the moon they have hitherto escaped our special attention. The largest of the three is Archimedes, the second in size is Aristillus, and the smallest is Autolycus. You will hear of them again when we come to the large photograph of the Mare Imbrium and the Mare Serenitatis.

No. 17. October 10, 1903; Moon’s Age 20.06 Days.

“Let me now prepare you for an almost dramatic change in the appearance of some of the most conspicuous lunar features which will take place when we pass from this photograph to No. 18. Direct your attention particularly to the chain of the Apennines. In No. 17 it lies very brilliant in the sunlight, with its western slopes distinctly visible, rising gradually from the shores of the Mare Serenitatis and the Mare Vaporum, while the ‘sea’ along its eastern front is bright with day. In No. 18 the Apennines have become simply a chain of illuminated mountain tips with comparative darkness all around them. Their western slopes are practically invisible, the 144Mare Imbrium on the east has turned dark, as if twilight had fallen over it—although as I have told you there is no twilight on the moon—and at its northern end the great range, with only its summits illuminated, projects like a row of electric lights far into the black night that has covered the plains beneath.

“Yet, although the Mare Imbrium has turned so dark as to be barely visible over its western half, the sun has by no means set upon it, and the darkness is perhaps greater than it should, theoretically, be under the circumstances. This phenomenon of the rapid darkening of the great lunar levels as the sun declines is one of the arguments that have been found to favor the hypothesis of the existence of vegetation. If, for the sake of discussion, we admit the possibility of vegetation growing on the lunar plains, it will be interesting once more to compare photographs Nos. 17 and 18.”

“Don’t say that it is merely for the sake of a discussion,” interrupted my friend. “I shall be far more deeply interested if you will simply say that it may be true.”

No. 18. September 29, 1904; Moon’s Age 20.50 Days.

“Very well, let us put it that way, then. As I was remarking, if we again compare the two photographs, keeping the vegetation hypothesis in view, we may ascribe at least a part of the rapid darkening of the plain of the Mare Imbrium 145to a change in the color of the—what shall I say, grass?—covering it.”

“Good! good!” exclaimed my friend, clapping her hands. “Just listen to him! After gravely rebuking me so many times for my unscientific faith in the lunar inhabitants of a long past age, now you are talking of ‘grass’ on the moon.”

“You are hardly fair,” I protested. “It is you who have just led me to make an admission which many astronomers would laugh at, and you ought to support me with all the brilliance of your imagination when I try to picture a state of things so consistent with your predilections about the moon.”

“Oh, I do support you with all my heart!” she replied. “Pray go on, and tell me about the lunar grass.”

“Not just at present,” I said. “We are going to take that subject up again, and I may then succeed in convincing you that there is far more evidence for believing that vegetation exists on the moon in the present day than for believing that intellectual beings inhabited it at some unknown former period. I should warn you, too, that I have been using the contrasts of light and darkness between these two successive photographs simply as an illustration of what occurs in visual telescopic views; but that, for some reason, the lunar plains nearly always appear darker 146in photographs when contrasted with the mountainous regions than they do when viewed with the eye. Owing, also, to a variety of influences two successive photographs of the moon may differ in tone when the eye would detect no corresponding difference. All this, however, does not invalidate what I have said about the lunar ‘seas,’ or plains, darkening near sunset more rapidly than we should expect them to do, as a simple result of the low angle at which the sunlight strikes them.

“You will notice that the waning of day between photographs Nos. 17 and 18 has produced a remarkable change in the appearance of Tycho. Since the Full Moon phase Tycho has resembled a button rather than a volcanic crater, but now it has once more assumed the form of a very beautiful ring with its central peak clearly shown, its western wall, bright and its eastern wall casting a broad, black shadow. Most of the rays have now disappeared, only two or three, running over the eastern hemisphere, remaining visible. The immense walled plains near Tycho have again become prominent, Maginus toward the southwest, Clavius toward the south, and Longomontanus toward the southeast being the most conspicuous. Clavius is always a wonderful object for the telescope, but it is rather more interesting in the lunar morning than in the evening. 147Away over near the eastern limb, where the sun is still high, Grimaldi shows its dark oval, with a couple of mountain peaks on its western rampart shining brilliantly. The small, dark spot below it, toward the east, is in the walled plain, Riccioli. The bright spot with starlike rays, a long way south of Grimaldi, and east of the Mare Humorum, is Byrgius, a walled plain near which exists a small system of bright streaks resembling those surrounding Copernicus and Kepler, but much less extensive.”

“Do you recall my expression of impatience this morning when you were giving me the names of a long string of crater rings?” said my friend, smiling. “Well, I am now going to make a confession. Perhaps it is slightly of a penitential nature. I find now that these names, although they certainly are far from picturesque in most cases, begin to interest me, because, I suppose, I understand better the character and meaning of the things that they represent. The ceaseless Latin terminations no longer annoy me, for I do not think of them, but of the things themselves.”

“It is always so,” I replied, “whenever one takes up a new study. I know that you have dipped a little into botany, and I am sure that the Latin names which abound in that science must have repelled you at first. But after a time, when you had begun to recognize the beautiful 148flowers and the remarkable plants for which they stood, you found that even these names assumed a new character and became interesting and memorable. You will find it the same if you continue to study the moon. The most stupid designations will derive interest from their applications.”

“Yes, that is no doubt true. Still, I wish that Riccioli had possessed a little more imagination.”

“Be thankful, then, that he did not name the lunar ‘seas’ and ‘bays.’ You must now bid good night to your ‘dark woman.’ You observe that the Mare Nubium is beginning to fall under the shadow, and that her features are growing indistinct. If you will turn the photograph upside down you will find that the Moon Maiden has retired. She belongs exclusively to the western hemisphere, and it is only the eastern hemisphere of the moon that now remains visible to us, for we are close to the phase of Last Quarter. This is an aspect of the moon with which you may not be very familiar. To see the moon at Last Quarter, and particularly after she has passed that phase, we must rise near midnight and devote the early morning hours to observation. During these later phases, however, one may see the moon in the heavens during the daytime all through the forenoon and a part of the afternoon. She is a very beautiful object then, although few persons, I fear, ever take the trouble to look at her. The 149lighter parts of her surface assume a silvery tint in the daylight, and the dark plains seem suffused with a delicate blue from the surrounding sky. Exquisite views of the moon may then be obtained with a telescope. The glare of reflected light from the mountains and crater rings, which dazzles the eye at night, is so reduced that the telescopic image becomes beautiful, soft, and pleasing. The same principle has been very successfully applied in recent years to the study of the planet Venus. Her atmosphere is so abundant, in contrast to what we find on the moon, that she is as blinding in a telescope as a ball of snow glittering in full sunshine; but when seen in the daytime, her features, indistinct at the best, may be more clearly discerned.”

“Oh, you interest me deeply! If Venus is supplied with such an abundance of air, I suppose she is inhabited?”

“It is not exactly orthodox among those calling themselves astronomers to talk of inhabitants on the planets, but I do not mind telling you privately that I think that Venus is most likely a world filled with all kinds of animate existences. Our present business, however, is with the moon, and I must recall your attention to the photographs. We shall next take up No. 19. Here the crescent shape becomes again evident, but reversed in position as compared with the crescent 150of the new and waxing moon. Only two of the ‘seas’ now remain completely in view—the Mare Humorum and the Oceanus Procellarum.”

“That term I think you have translated as the ‘Ocean of Tempests.’ Pray, do you know any reason why it should have been thus named?”

No. 19. August 16, 1903; Moon’s Age 23.81 Days.

“There is not the slightest reason that I know of. You must ascribe it to the vivid imagination of that old astronomer whom you so greatly admire. I regret, sometimes, that he cannot be here to explain to you the thoughts that occupied his mind. They must surely have been very captivating, even though not very scientific. Remark that there are many of the features of the eastern part of the moon which we can now discern more clearly than in any of the preceding pictures. Beginning at the top we see the vast inclosure of Longomontanus with the top of its encircling walls illuminated, while the interior is all in deep shadow. Its western rampart projects into the night and seems detached from the main body of the moon. Along the terminator below Longomontanus, what appears to be another immense walled plain presents a similar aspect. This, however, consists of several smaller formations grouped near together, only their loftiest points being illuminated. The steep borders of the Mare Humorum are finely shown. Notice how the floor of that little ‘sea,’ which is about the 151size of England, as Mr. Elger has remarked, is mottled with whitish spots, and how distinct the ring of Gassendi appears at the northern end of the mare. You can even see the comparatively small crater that crowns the northern wall of the ring. Southeast of the Mare Humorum are visible the great flat plains of Schiller and Schickard. Notice also how all the surface of the moon in that direction is freckled with crater pits, which resemble the impressions made by raindrops in soft sand. But the smallest of these pits is larger than the greatest volcanic crater on the earth.

“The Oceanus Procellarum is beautifully illuminated in this picture. In several places, particularly north of the Mare Humorum, parts of submerged rings are visible. These are great curiosities, and we shall see more of them elsewhere. Some selenographers believe that they are the remains of an earlier world in the moon, which was buried by a tremendous upheaval and outrush of molten material from the interior. You will remember, perhaps, that I spoke of a catastrophe of that kind when pointing out the half-buried ring of Fracastorius at the southern end of the Mare Nectaris.”

“Did that catastrophe occur after the formation of the huge lunar volcanoes?”

“It is difficult to say just when it occurred, but the appearances generally favor the view 152that it was subsequent to the great volcanic age. It is the opinion of Mr. Elger, whom I have once or twice mentioned as an English observer who has devoted special attention to the study of the moon’s surface, that the mares, as we now see them, do not represent the original beds of the lunar oceans. These beds, which, according to this view, were at first deeper, have been covered up, at least over a great part of their areas, by the outrush of molten lava. If they were ever filled with water it was very likely prior to that occurrence. But you must remember that all this is speculation, very interesting, it is true, but based upon insufficient data to enable us to be sure of our conclusions. I shall show you later that some recent students of lunar phenomena have formed the opinion that there is a strong argument to be drawn from geological analogies in favor of the view that the lunar mares, practically in the state in which we see them, have been true sea beds.

“Let us continue our inspection of photograph No. 19, which is one of the most interesting of the series. Look at the crater ring Kepler, in the midst of the Oceanus Procellarum. We have not before seen it in the aspect which it now presents. Hitherto it has appeared only as a bright point surrounded by a light patch covered with radiating streaks. But now, with the 153late afternoon sunlight striking across it, its walls are illuminated in such a manner that its very perfect ring shows very clearly, about half of the interior lying in shadow, which serves to give it a striking relief. If we suppose a time when the Oceanus Procellarum was a real ocean, and when Kepler was an active volcano rising above its waters, its situation, far from all shores, would have been not unlike that of the great volcano of Kilauea in the Hawaiian Islands. In that case we might assume that the streaks around it represent ancient lava flows, which spread far about over the bed of the ocean. The same explanation would apply to the streaks and rays around Copernicus, and half a dozen other similar ring mountains.

“You will also observe that the afternoon slant of the solar rays has considerably changed the appearance of Aristarchus. Now for the first time the crateriform shape of that most remarkable mountain has become evident on account of the shadow in the interior. This shadow has almost reached the central peak which is the brightest part of the entire formation. You may be interested in the fact that the brilliance of the central peak of Aristarchus is so great that it stands in an order by itself, in what may be called the photometry of the moon’s surface. Ten orders of relative brightness have been adopted 154to represent the various reflective powers of different parts and spots of the moon. I copy them from Mr. Elger’s list. They are as follows:

“0° = Black (example, the shadows of mountains).

“1° = Gray black (example, darkest places in the walled plains of Grimaldi and Riccioli).

“2° = Dark gray (example, the floor of Endymion).

“3° = Medium gray (example, interior of Theophilus).

“4° = Yellowish gray (example, interior of Manilius).

“5° = Pure light gray (example, surface around Kepler).

“6° = Light whitish gray (example, walls of Macrobius).

“7° = Grayish white (example, Kepler).

“8° = Pure white (example, walls of Copernicus).

“9° = Glittering white (example, Proclus).

“10° = Dazzling white (sole example, the central peak of Aristarchus).”

“Really, I am greatly surprised by what you tell me,” said my friend. “I would never have imagined that there were so many different neutral tints on the moon.”

“You would be still more surprised,” I replied, “if I could present to you a similar table 155of the different tints of color that have been discovered there. But I am not aware that any scale of lunar colors has been prepared. There are, however, various shades of brown, yellow, and green. Most of them are found in the mares and walled inclosures. Some of them appear to be variable, and some are only to be detected under particular illuminations.”

“Are not such colors an indication of something living there?”

“It may be so—an indication, for instance, of the existence of ‘lunar grass,’ the mention of which so amused you a little while ago.”

“Oh, it was not the ‘grass’ that amused me, but your unexpected way of introducing it. I want to be convinced that there is grass there, and a great many other things besides grass. But I am not yet satisfied concerning that unique peak in Aristarchus. ‘Dazzling white’ you say is its description in the scale of tints. That excites my curiosity immensely. I think you have told me already that it cannot be snow, but you have spoken of the possibility of crystals and of metal. Do you know, I like the idea of ascribing the phenomenon to metal. It recalls something that I read in childhood about the first discoverer of a silver mine in Mexico. As I remember the story, an Aztec hunter, chasing his game across a mountain, seized upon a bush to aid him, and the 156roots giving way disclosed a glittering mass of silver. Why not let me imagine that the peak of Aristarchus is composed of pure silver?”

“There is no harm in imagining that if you wish to do so. But then your imagination, or rather your knowledge, should go a little farther and recall the fact that silver does not remain dazzling bright when exposed.”

“Ah, but you say there is no air, no water, no rains, no moisture on the moon. Under such circumstances might not a metal remain bright?”

“It is possible, but I hardly think that it would. It is likely that other corroding influences exist. A better explanation, I think, is afforded by supposing that the reflecting surface is simply composed of a rocky mineral, resembling in its power of reflection a mass of quartz crystals or imbedded planes of mica. There is no absolute impossibility involved in thinking that it may be simply white rock.”

“Why not say marble—a gigantic Carrara mountain on the moon?”

“I fear that that would involve a geological history for the lunar world for which we have not sufficient warrant in observed facts. I prefer to assume a volcanic origin for the phenomenon. Since you are so interested in the mystery of Aristarchus I may add that a part of the floor and the inner side of the ring are also extremely 157bright, but not quite so bright as the central peak. That alone stands at the top of the scale. Putting the peak at 10°, Mr. Elger finds that the other brilliant parts of Aristarchus possess only 9½° of brightness. Yet the whole interior is so glistening that when the sunlight falls vertically it almost resembles the inside of a crystal cup, and details are hidden in the glare.

“Now please look at the ‘Bay of Rainbows’ in the photograph before us. Cape Laplace at its western end lies close to the terminator and appears as a minute speck of light. The great bow-shaped shore is clearly defined, the level surface within being very dark and the highlands around it comparatively bright. The crater mountain Bianchini you will recognize near the center of the bow. Several other similar crateriform mountains are visible toward the north and east. In this light the surface of the moon eastward from the North Pole appears as rough and broken with craters and crater plains as we saw in the earlier pictures that it is toward the west.

“Before directing our attention to photograph No. 20, let us return for a moment to Aristarchus. When speaking of that formation a few minutes ago I interrupted myself in order to give you the scale of tints on the moon, which demonstrated the unique brilliance of the peak inclosed by the ring. I intended to point out to you then 158the fact that in photograph No. 19 we see, for the first time, not only the ring of Aristarchus but its curious neighbor Herodotus. A light streak, which we observed in an earlier picture, seems to connect the two. It is better, however, to notice this now because in turning from No. 19 to No. 20 you will perceive once more a change in the appearance of Aristarchus and its neighborhood. In No. 20 Aristarchus is distinctly more conspicuous. The night has advanced during almost exactly twenty-four hours, having in the meantime swept across the entire length of the ‘Bay of Rainbows,’ which we now no longer see. If we had been using a telescope during that interval we should have beheld a very interesting spectacle, for sunset on the ‘Bay of Rainbows’ is quite as remarkable, although in a very different way, as sunset on the Bay of Naples. The astronomer, seated amid the lonely gloom of his observatory dome, and watching the change of light and illumination on the surface of the moon, has many an hour of solitary enjoyment of aspects of nature that are quite impossible on the earth, and that frequently lure him into poetic meditations which find no place in his notebook.”

“I am very glad to hear you say that. It enhances my opinion of the astronomers, and convinces me that after all they are not so severely scientific as they describe themselves.”

No. 20. August 17, 1903; Moon’s Age 24.84 Days.

159“If they were,” I replied, “or if all of them were, it would be a bad augury for the future of their science. Do not think that in occasionally seeking to restrain your imagination I wish to express condemnation of what, after all, is the noblest of human faculties. But again we are forgetting our principal business, which is with the facts. Aristarchus, as I have said, has undergone another distinct change of appearance from that which it showed before. The central peak is now covered by the shadow of the eastern wall, but still the reflection from the western wall alone is sufficient to make it the brightest spot on the moon. Herodotus, on the other hand, has become indistinct and the Harbinger Mountains are practically invisible, but we can detect the existence of the enormous chasm or cañon, which I told you once issues from the interior of Herodotus and goes winding nearly a hundred miles over the floor of the Oceanus Procellarum.

“Notice, also, how clearly visible three or four relatively small craters east of the ‘Bay of Rainbows’ have become, and how conspicuous are several large walled plains on the northern ‘horn.’ The dark level south of these formations and between them and the small craters has also a name which I have not before mentioned. It is the Sinus Roris, ‘Gulf of Dew.’ It connects the Mare Frigoris with the Oceanus Procellarum. It is 160another legacy from your friend the imaginative astronomer.”

“Then once more he receives my thanks for having done his best to make the moon an ideal world. It is always painful to have one’s ideals destroyed.”

“I hope that I have not been destroying any of yours.”

“No, but at least you have caused a change in my impressions about the character of the moon. Henceforth there will be an element of terror as well as of unexpected grandeur mingled with my thoughts of the ‘Queen of Night.’”

“That element will not be diminished by what I am about to point out. Look far over near the eastern border of the Oceanus Procellarum, directly east of Aristarchus. There you will distinguish the outlines of two or three vast submerged ring plains, which we may regard as relics of that earlier lunar world, which preceded the outgush of lava that Mr. Elger thinks covered the sea bottoms. Observe also the singular light streak that runs from Kepler, now barely visible at the edge of night, to a dark little crater, beyond which lies a bright point off the coast of the ‘ocean.’ South of this there are other submerged ring plains, one of which, named Letronne, has a high western wall, which forms in the picture a sort of promontory projecting from 161the southern border of the Oceanus Procellarum, almost directly north of Gassendi. The latter is very clearly shown at the lower end of the Mare Humorum, the western side of which is in shadow, while its whole surface has turned very dark. On the southern horn of the crescent the ring plains, Schickard and Schiller, are still prominent, and the northern and eastern edges of the Mare Humorum appear more ragged with mountains and crater rings than before.”

“And have all these mountains and craters names?”

“Not all of them, but many more, perhaps, than you suppose. On the whole visible surface of the moon about 500 objects, not including the ‘seas,’ have received names. It may surprise you to learn that the position of the most important of these objects has been ascertained with an accuracy which is still lacking in our determination of positions on the earth. In other words our charts of the moon are more exact than those of our own planet.”

“That does indeed surprise me. I should have thought that, living on the earth, we could make very correct maps of it, while, as for the moon, two or three hundred thousand miles away, it seems to me not so easy to do that.”

“It is mainly because we are on the earth that we find such great difficulty in making accurate 162maps of it. We cannot look at the earth as a whole, but we have to crawl over its surface, making measurements as we go, and afterwards translating those measurements into lines and angles on paper. Thus we are still uncertain about the precise distance between many important points on our globe, while for points on the moon no corresponding uncertainty exists. The moon hangs before us in the sky, with no clouds except those in our own atmosphere to obscure it, and it is only necessary carefully to observe the position of particular points, and with the proper instruments to measure their distance and directions from one another. But even this is not a thing that can be accomplished without much pains and much knowledge. The astronomer, no matter what field he chooses, is necessarily a hard worker, and his motto, above everything else, is accuracy. No one is more tempted than he by the sublimity and the extraordinary character of the objects of his study, to give rein to the imagination, and yet imagination is the thing of all others from whose vagaries he must most carefully guard himself. So you must not blame him too severely if he has not dotted the shores of the moon with cities, and populated its plains with industrious farmers.”

“If you will permit me to wander a little aside from our photographic studies for a few 163minutes,” said my friend, “I should like to ask you about two or three things concerning the moon which have long puzzled me. From my earliest days, living the greater part of the time in the country, I have heard that the moon exercises a decided influence over the weather, and over the growth of vegetation. I have neighbors who would never think of planting certain things except ‘in the New of the moon’! Some will not cut timber except ‘in the Old of the Moon,’ as they say that the sap is drawn up by the moon’s influence when she is growing. Is there really any truth in all this?”

“Not the least. At any rate there is no scientific evidence whatever for such statements, and no probability that they are based on facts. They are the result of faulty observation, misled by coincidences. It is imaginable that the light of the moon might have some influence upon vegetable growth if it were an original kind of light coming from the moon herself. But moonlight is only reflected sunlight, and when we examine it with the spectroscope we do not find that the rays of light in visiting the moon and returning thence to the earth have had either anything added to or anything taken away from them, except intensity. The total amount of light reflected from the moon upon the earth is estimated to be about 1/618000 of the total amount that 164comes to us from the sun. Curiously enough the moon appears to reflect proportionally more heat than light, the amount of lunar heat received by the earth being reckoned at 1/185000 of the amount coming from the sun. The popular idea that the moon affects the movement of sap in plants is equally illusory.”

“But about the weather? I know people who believe that a change of the moon from one phase to another brings about a change of weather. Is that true?”

“Certainly it is not true. The moon is changing its apparent form all the time. There is no sudden alteration at any phase. The popular belief, however, has always been so firmly fixed that many investigations have been made to ascertain whether there is, in reality, any foundation for it. These investigations have shown that no measurable effect of the kind exists.”

“And the Full Moon does not drive away clouds, as some assert?”

“Surely she does not. I will now tell you something that the persons who plant and sow and cut timber according to the phases of the moon, and who believe that she exercises a kind of magic control over the clouds, probably have never heard of, although if they knew it they might use it as an argument in favor of lunar influences. It is this: The alternate approach 165and retreat of the moon with respect to the earth, as she travels round her elliptical orbit, produce measurable, although slight, disturbances of the magnetism of our planet. The distance of the moon varies to the extent of about 30,000 miles. Now, if it could be shown that these magnetic disturbances were reflected in the character of the weather, then the supposed influence of the moon would be established. But that has not been shown, and if it were shown it would still be found that the phases of the moon had no relation to the fact, for the moon may be at its greatest or its least distance from the earth, or at any intermediate distance during any possible phase.”

“You will, perhaps, think me very persistent in asking foolish questions, but there is one other on my mind that I should like to put, now that we have gone so far. It is this: I have read, since the great earthquakes at San Francisco and Valparaiso, and the great eruption of Vesuvius in the same year, 1906, that the moon has an influence over such things. Is this another unfounded popular superstition?”

“It is not a notion of popular origin at all,” I replied. “It originated rather from scientific considerations, and there may possibly be a germ of truth in it, although it yet remains to be demonstrated, and the evidence concerning it is confusingly 166contradictory. You will recall, I trust, what has been said about the sun and the moon producing tides in the oceans. We have also seen that before our globe had assumed its present condition, while it was yet more or less plastic throughout its whole mass, and before the birth of the moon, great tides were produced in the body of the earth. The tendency to the production of such bodily tides still exists, and now that the moon has become a near-by attendant of the earth, she acts more effectively in this regard than does the sun. If the earth were still plastic the moon would produce bodily tides in it. In other words the earth would be deformed by the attraction of the moon. The question has arisen whether or not the tendency to the production of such tides, now that the earth has become rigid, may not disturb its crust sufficiently to induce earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. Some students of the subject have thought that they could detect evidence that this is the case. It has frequently happened that such phenomena have occurred on a large scale, at or very close to, the periods of New and of Full Moon. Those are the times, as we saw when we were talking of the oceanic tides, when the sun and the moon pull together. If all great eruptions and earthquakes occurred at these conjunctions there would be little doubt of the correctness of the theory. But, unfortunately 167for the clearness of our conceptions, this is by no means the case. There have been many earthquakes and volcanic outbursts when the sun and the moon were not thus combining their tidal attractions. Thus the evidence is found to be contradictory or inconsistent, and the question remains unsettled. It is, however, a very interesting one, and the time will come, it is to be hoped, when it will be answered decisively one way or the other.”

After this digression we returned to the study of the photographs.

“Photograph No. 20, which we have just been examining,” I said, “represents the moon at the age of about twenty-four days and twenty hours. The next, and the last of the series showing the moon in progressive phases, is No. 21. Here the age of the moon is about twenty-six days and twenty hours. It is the fast waning sickle of the Old Moon which we behold. You perceive that it is relatively uninteresting when compared with No. 20, because very little except the eastern limb is illuminated. Nearly all the great circular and oval formations and craters, and all the ‘seas,’ have passed into the lunar night. Only the eastern verge of the Oceanus Procellarum remains in sight, dulling the brilliance of the inner curve of the sickle. The dark walled plain above the center is Riccioli, and just below it appears Hevel, a 168smaller, but yet large formation, with a low central mountain. It is hardly worth our while to attempt to identify the other features shown in the photograph. They include none that we have previously studied. Yet this picture has an interest all its own because it is an excellent representation of the moon at a time when she is so near to the sun. Do not forget that, as I warned you when we began with the crescent of the New Moon, in these photographs the moon appears reversed top for bottom. Seen in the sky in the early morning this sickle would have its rounded edge toward the left hand and directed more or less downward, according to the position of the sun. A great deal of confusion exists in the minds of well-educated people concerning the position of the sickle of the New and the Old Moon. You have, of course, heard of the classic instances in which artists have drawn the New Moon with the concave side toward the sun! It is only necessary to remember that a line drawn straight from the center of the convex side of the sickle, whether it be the New Moon or the Old Moon, always extends directly toward the place occupied by the sun.”

No. 21. August 19, 1903; Moon’s Age 26.89 Days.

“There is,” said my friend, “an interesting old superstition which I have often heard—I suppose it must of course be a superstition—concerning ‘wet moons’ and ‘dry moons.’ As I recall it 169they say that when the sickle of the New Moon appears nearly upright in the sky that is a sign of dry weather, because the moon is then like an overturned cup, but when the sickle has its ends turned upward that is a sign of wet weather, because then the cup can hold water. I suppose that these various positions of the moon actually occur, but I do not know how they are brought about.”

“The supposed influence of the position of the New Moon on the weather,” I replied, “is too gross a superstition to be worthy of any notice, but the different attitudes of the sickle are interesting. They arise from the changes in the position of the moon as seen from the earth with respect to the direction of the sun, and these changes depend in turn on the inclination of the moon’s path in the sky to the plane of the earth’s equator as well as to the plane of the ecliptic or the earth’s orbit. The ecliptic has an inclination of about 23½° to the plane of the equator, and the moon’s orbit is inclined a little over 5° to the ecliptic. The moon may, in consequence, appear more than 28° above or below the equator. But since, as I told you in the beginning, the orbit of the moon itself turns slowly about in space, the distance of the moon above or below the equator is not constant. It may be only a little more than 18°. In consequence of these changes of relative 170position the situation of the horns of the crescent moon varies. But you need never be in doubt as to what position they will occupy at any time if you will simply remember that a straight line drawn from the point of one horn to that of the other must always form a right angle with the direction of the sun.

Diagram Showing Why the Winter Moon Runs High.

“There is another very interesting fact about the position of the moon in the sky which we should not neglect to notice. Did you ever observe the superior brilliancy of the light of the Full Moon in winter? It is one of the compensations that nature offers us. Since the Full Moon is necessarily situated opposite to the point occupied by the sun, and since the sun is far south of the equator in midwinter, it follows that at the same season the Full Moon appears high above the equator in the northern hemisphere. You 171will, perhaps, permit me to show you a diagram intended to explain this phenomenon.

You observe that the sun being south of the equator, in the direction indicated by the dotted line, the Full Moon is correspondingly situated north of the equator, and must necessarily appear high in the sky at midnight, when the sun is at its lowest declination. This is the reason why the winter Full Moons are so brilliant, making the snow-clad hills gleam with a splendor that sometimes dazzles the eyes of the beholders. In the Arctic regions the long winter night, when the sun does not rise for months, is periodically brightened by the presence of the Full Moon. Just the opposite condition of affairs exists in summer. Then the sun being north of the equator the Full Moon is south of it, and ‘runs low,’ appearing in high latitudes to skim along the southern horizon.”

“Thank you, and now I will ask you one more question,” said my friend. “I have often heard of the ‘Harvest Moon’ and the ‘Hunter’s Moon.’ Will you not kindly explain what is meant by these terms and when the ‘Harvest Moon’ can be seen? There is a poetic suggestiveness in the name that appeals to me.”

“I will try with pleasure,” I said, “but I fear that I shall have to trouble you with another diagram, or perhaps with two.”

172“Oh, I shall not mind that at all. I have grown used to diagrams as well as to the nomenclature of the moon.”

“Well, if my diagrams conduct your thoughts to things as interesting as many that lie concealed behind the prosaic names on the moon I shall be content. To begin, then, I must remind you that in her monthly journey around the earth the moon moves from west toward east in her orbit, and thus she gets a little over 12° farther east every twenty-four hours, as reckoned from the position of the sun. The earth turning on its axis in the same direction causes the moon to appear to rise in the east and set in the west once every twenty-four hours. But in consequence of the constant eastward motion of the moon she rises at a later hour every night. Here is a graphic representation of what I mean:

“The earth is turning on its axis in the direction represented by the arrows, and simultaneously the moon is moving in its orbit in the same direction, as is shown by the large arrow. Suppose that some night the moon is seen rising at a particular hour from the point A on the earth. Then, the following night, when the observer has again arrived at A, with the rotation of the earth, the moon will have advanced from M1 to M2, and will not be seen rising until the point occupied by the observer has arrived 173at B. This retardation of the hour of moonrise is variable on account of changes in the position of the moon, arising from the inclination of her orbit to the plane of the equator, and from the inequalities of her motion, to which I have before referred. On the average it amounts to fifty-one minutes daily. It varies also with the distance of the observer from the equator, the variation being greater in high latitudes. In the latitude of New York the retardation of moonrise may be as great as an hour and a quarter, or as little as twenty-three minutes.

Diagram Showing Why Moon Rises Later Every Night.

“Now it is upon this variation that the phenomenon of the ‘Harvest’ and the ‘Hunter’s Moon’ depends. If I had a celestial globe here I could show you that at the time of the Autumn Equinox, September 22d, when the sun crosses the 174equator moving southward, the apparent path of the moon in the sky intersects the eastern horizon at a comparatively small inclination. In other words the moon at that time instead of rising steeply from the horizon rises on a long slope almost parallel with the horizon. The consequence is that for several evenings in succession the Full Moon near the time of the Autumn Equinox may be seen rising just after sunset at almost the same hour. Look at this second diagram and you will see why this is so.

Diagram Illustrating the Harvest Moon.

“The little circles M show the moon at several successive positions in her orbit, just twenty-four hours apart. You perceive that in consequence of the slight inclination to the eastern horizon the sinking of the latter caused by the earth’s rotation will bring the moon into view night after night at almost the same hour. In fact, in high northern latitudes like those of Norway and Sweden the moon’s path at this time of 175the year may actually coincide with the horizon, so that for several evenings she will rise at exactly the same hour. The name ‘Harvest Moon’ explains itself, since it always occurs at the time of the autumn harvests and the vintage, and seems to supplement the fading daylight for the benefit of late laborers in the fields. The ‘Harvest Moon’ does not occur every year at precisely the same date. It is very rare that Full Moon happens to fall just on September 22d. It usually either precedes or follows that date. The ‘Harvest Moon’ is the Full Moon which occurs nearest to the Autumn Equinox, either before or after. The ‘Hunter’s Moon’ is the first Full Moon which follows the ‘Harvest Moon.’ Like the former it rises for several successive evenings near the same hour, but this phenomenon is less marked in the case of the ‘Hunter’s Moon,’ because it is farther from the Equinox.”

“Thank you, again,” said my friend. “I shall never henceforth look at the moon without thinking of circles, straight lines, and arrows as well as of ‘ring mountains’ and ‘seas.’”

“Then you are making good progress toward science,” I replied. “One last look, now, at the photograph of the Old Moon’s sickle, and then we had better postpone our examination of the large photographs, showing certain particularly interesting districts on the moon, until to-morrow 176morning. There is here another interesting point for artists to note. The convex side of the sickle of the Old Moon, or the New Moon, is always an arc of a circle, but the concave side is never circular although it is often thus represented. The concave side, neglecting its irregularities arising from the differences of level and of brilliancy of the lunar surface, is elliptical in outline, that is to say, it is a semicircle viewed obliquely.”

“Whatever its geometry may be,” replied my friend, “it is certainly very beautiful. Good night, and I shall demand to see those large photographs before the sun is very high to-morrow.”

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