Indiana is firmly ensnared by “Eclipse Fever” and for the next few weeks, whether you want to or not, you’re caught smack dab in the middle of the path of totality. According to the National Park Service, the first recorded instance of a total eclipse in America can be traced back to July 11, 1097. As evidence, the NPS cites a petroglyph (a symbol carved into rock) in New Mexico’s Chaco National Park. The petroglyph presents a filled-in circle (representing the sun) with wavy lines emanating from its edges with a small, filled-in circle (representing the planet Venus) visible at its upper left. Scientists hypothesize that this would have been the view in that location at the time of the eclipse. The next instance, recorded in 1758 by an amateur astronomer whose name has been lost to history, happened in Rhode Island, making it the first detailed lunar eclipse recorded by a white man in the Americas.
On January 14-15, 1805, Lewis and Clark observed a partial lunar eclipse while at Fort Mandan, North Dakota during their Corps of Discovery Expedition of the newly acquired western portion of the U.S, following the Louisiana Purchase. The explorers eagerly recorded details of that eclipse in their journals including start and stop times. Meriwether Lewis wrote: “Observed an eclips (sic) of the Moon…The commencement of the eclips was obscured by clouds, which continued to interrupt me throughout the whole observation…” A year and a half later, on June 16, 1806, Lewis and Clark observed a solar eclipse while encamped in the Great Pacific Northwest in the path of the total solar eclipse which passed over Arizona, through the Midwest, southern New York State, northern Pennsylvania, and over Boston.
Far be it from me to assume that eclipse history is notable only from an American point of view. According to NASA “The oldest recorded eclipse in human history may have been on Nov. 30, 3340 BCE.” Humans struggling through the Stone Ages surely witnessed eclipses and I suspect that every such occurrence was met with sheer panic. The Vikings believed two wolves would devour the sun or the moon. For the Cherokees, it was a toad. Still other Native American tribes in northern California believed it was a bear that had swallowed the sun (or moon). Other ancient civilizations believed the Sun was being devoured by planetary monsters: in Siberia, it was a vampire, in Vietnam it was a giant frog, in Argentina it was a jaguar, for indigenous people, and in India and China, it was a dragon. In short, for our pre-Classical Era ancestors, an eclipse meant the world was coming to an end.
Modern research proves that eclipses were recorded in ancient Egypt 4,500 years ago and in China, the Mayan Empire, and Babylonia over 4,000 years old. Chinese legend states that imperial astronomers Hsi and Ho were executed because they failed to predict the total solar eclipse in China on October 22, 2134 BCE. Emperor Chung K’ang had the two Royal astronomers “decapitated for having failed to predict an eclipse of the sun which took place while the two delinquents were absent and given to debauchery instead of attending to their duties…for on the first day of the last moon of Autumn, the sun and moon in their conjunction not being in agreement in Fang, the blind one beat the drum, the mandarins mounted their horses, and the people ran up in haste. At that time, Hsi and Ho, like wooden statues, neither saw nor heard anything, and by their negligence in calculating and observing the movement of the stars, they violated the law of death promulgated by our earlier Princes.”
Our ancient Irish ancestors were also expert astronomers. Irish star-gazers were carving eclipse images on ancient stone megaliths over 5,000 years ago. The Irish were the ones who recorded that November 30th, 3340, BCE event, making it the world’s oldest known solar eclipse literally chiseled in stone. The megalith is situated at Loughcrew in County Meath. Loughcrew is home to twenty ancient tombs from the 4th millennium BC, the highest point in Meath. The Irish Neolithic priests/astronomers recorded eclipses as seen from that location on 3 stones located there. Leave it to the Celts, who created a “festival of light” to welcome an eclipse, proving that they were capable of predicting them.
A popular eclipse story has worldwide appeal with a splash of American interest: The story of the eclipse that saved Christopher Columbus’ life. In 1503, on what would become his final voyage to the new world, Columbus steered his sinking ships towards Santiago (modern-day Jamaica) with his crews. With most of his anchors lost and his vessels worm-eaten enough to be little more than floating sponges, he beached his ships. Columbus’ glory days were behind him and he now found himself and his crew of 90 men and boys stranded on this desolate Caribbean island. The Italian and his Spaniards were initially welcomed by the indigenous Taíno people but, as time went on, the crew clashed with the natives. Fearing both starvation and conflict, Columbus forbade his crew from leaving their base and tentatively traded Spanish trinkets and jewelry for food and water with the people living there.
The danger was a constant. When investigating Jamaica’s easternmost point, one of his scouting parties was overpowered and captured by hostile locals. In January 1504, some of the crew mutinied, left the base, and spread out onto the island. They abused and mocked the island residents, stole provisions, and “committed every possible excess,” according to one of Columbus’ biographers. The crew had worn out their welcome as tolerance gave way to contempt and hatred. The trade of food and water came to a halt and, facing starvation, Columbus realized that a lunar eclipse was approaching. On March 1, he gathered the chiefs and leaders of the tribal communities, admonished them for withholding provisions, and issued a warning. “The God who protects me will punish you… this very night shall the Moon change her color and lose her light, in testimony of the evils which shall be sent on you from the skies.” The ploy worked and the terrified locals relented, providing food and water once again. In exchange, Columbus promised to perform a rite that would “pardon” them.
Good thing because rescue wouldn’t arrive until June. Thanks to that eclipse, Columbus was able to return to Spain. The remainder of his life was an unhappy story: he returned to Spain in poor physical and mental health and spent his last two years of life lobbying for official recognition and money, which never came. His patrons doubted his mental condition and ignored his demands. He died on May 20, 1506.
In the early 1800s, Shawnee leader Tecumseh and his brother Tenskwatawa (known as “The Prophet”) were seeking to unite the Native American people and maintain traditional ways. Instead, the governor of the territory, William Henry Harrison (a future U.S. president and grandfather of Indiana’s only homegrown president, Benjamin Harrison) decided that it was a much better idea to persuade tribal leaders to hand over their land or have it taken from them. Knowing that Tecumseh and his Prophet brother held sway over the tribes, Harrison tried to discredit them by asking them for a sign: if the prophet was so powerful, why not ask him to perform a miracle of biblical proportions? Harrison wrote an open letter to the Indians gathered on the Wabash River: “If he is a prophet, ask him to cause the Sun to stand still or the Moon to alter its course, the rivers to cease to flow or the dead to rise from their graves.” Old Tippecanoe’s stunt backfired.
The Prophet agreed and requested that all in the village be assembled for him to deliver his response. He announced that he had consulted with the Great Spirit and that she was unhappy about Harrison’s request. The Great Spirit agreed to give a sign proving that she and the Prophet were besties. The Prophet spoke in a loud and confident voice saying that: “Fifty days from this day there will be no cloud in the sky. Yet, when the Sun has reached its highest point, at that moment will the Great Spirit take it into her hand and hide it from us. The darkness of night will thereupon cover us and the stars will shine round about us. The birds will roost and the night creatures will awaken and stir.” At noon on June 16th, 1806, The Prophet raised his arms to the sky at just the right time, and a total solar eclipse crossed the region. It was a long eclipse with a band of totality reaching from the southern tip of Lake Michigan to Cincinnati and encompassing most of the lands inhabited by Tenskwatawa’s followers.
The euphoria did not last long. On November 6, Harrison’s forces approached Prophetstown. Accounts are unclear about how the battle began, but Harrison’s sentinels encountered advancing warriors in the pre-dawn hours of November 7. Although slightly outnumbered and low on ammunition, Tenskwatawa’s force of 600 to 700 men attacked Harrison’s soldiers. The attack failed, and after a two-hour engagement that history recalls as the Battle of Tippecanoe, Tenskwatawa’s forces retreated from the field and abandoned Prophetstown to avoid capture. On November 8, Harrison’s army burned the village to the ground. The war would continue for several years and would end only when Tecumseh was killed on October 5, 1813. His prophet brother Tenskwatawa died in November 1836 at his cabin, a site in present-day Kansas City’s Argentine district.
But what about that “Blood Moon” thing in this article’s title? If you think it sounds Biblical, you’re right. While the Bible doesn’t mention eclipses in particular, the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, mention a darkness that lasted three hours after the crucifixion of Jesus, but scientists easily poke holes in those stories. The term originates in the Book of Joel and it designates the blood moon as being a sign of the beginning of the end times: “The sun will turn into darkness, and the moon into blood before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.” The prophecy is repeated by Peter in Acts during Pentecost, as the fulfillment of Joel’s prophecy. Acts 2:20-38: “The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before that great and notable day of the Lord.” The blood moon also is prophesied in the Book of Revelation 6:12: “And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood.” So, ye faithful, the total Solar Eclipse falls on Monday, April 8th this year and if you believe in the prophecy of the blood moon, you’d better be in the pews the day before. Rest easy friends — the blood moon only happens during a Lunar Eclipse. Oh wait, that happens March 25th, so, I guess it still applies. Sounds like the Lunar Eclipse needs a better hype man.
Truth is, the blood moon term is a convenient colloquialism designed to evoke an image simple for people of all races, ages, and religions to understand just how rare and noteworthy total eclipses are. The blood moon happens as the sunlight passes through the earth’s atmosphere and breaks down into several refracted colors from behind the dark of the moon. The scattering of those wavelengths drowns out the blue component of yellow sunlight sending it into the void of space leaving only the red component of light remaining. Contrary to what you may think, the moon is not invisible during a total lunar eclipse but does assume a reddish hue. Despite the ominous connotations, the blood moon is clear proof that the Earth has an atmosphere. The same thing happens at sunrise and sunset as the sunlight travels up or down through the atmosphere, the blue light mostly disappears, leaving the red, orange, and yellow light. Conversely, when the Apollo moonwalkers looked back at the Earth, they saw a dark disk surrounded by a bright, red-hued ring: an eclipse. In short, a blood moon means nothing more than the Moon being eclipsed by the Earth’s shadow.
Centuries of superstition entwined with enigmatic mysticism fuel the interest in eclipses to this day. An eclipse does not discriminate among its viewership. In the case of Abraham Lincoln, an eclipse in the summer of 1831 would become an early benchmark in the life of the rail-splitter.
Next Week: PART II – Abraham Lincoln, the Blood Moon, and History.
Al Hunter is the author of the “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Haunted Irvington” and “Indiana National Road” book series. His newest books are “Bumps in the Night. Stories from the Weekly View,” “Irvington Haunts. The Tour Guide,” and “The Mystery of the H.H. Holmes Collection.” Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
