The shadow of the Moon dropped swiftly out of the sky, charging along the sunrise terminator at 12,000 miles an hour. As the Sun edged higher, that velocity slowed to a more manageable 2000 mph as it tore southeast across the north Atlantic, crossed just west of England, and made landfall in southern France and northern Spain. The date: October 12, 1605. I like to think the event was observed by people all over Europe, including groups of people standing by the Thames in central London. Far out of town, King James I was out probably enjoying a day of hunting. As the day progressed, few let the almost imperceptible onset of a solar eclipse interrupt their business. But as more of the Moon moved across the Sun, by noon the sky was darkening noticeably and rapidly. Between 12:40 and 1:00 pm the sky was a twilight dark. Through breaks in the clouds, the Sun appeared as a thin curved line of light.

As the Moon continued moving eastward across the Sun, it abandoned its grip just after 2:00 pm. I like to imagine a group of Londoners peering at the sky as the eclipse ended, discussing its meaning. “I heard about these eclipses,” said one, “at the theatre a few weeks ago.”

“King Lear,” another nodded. “But weren't there two eclipses?” Indeed there were.