The Story of Eclipses

by George F. Chambers

[59] Homer, Odyssey, vol. ii. p. 328. Clarendon Press Series.

[60] Washington Observations, 1875, Appendix II., p. 18.

CHAPTER XI.

ECLIPSES OF THE SUN MENTIONED IN HISTORY.—THE CHRISTIAN ERA TO THE NORMAN CONQUEST.

The Christian Era is, for several reasons, a suitable point of time from which to take a new departure in speaking of historical eclipses, although the First Century, at least, might obviously be regarded as belonging to classical history—but let that pass.

Dion Cassius[61] relates that on a date corresponding to March 28, A.D. 5, the Sun was partly eclipsed. Johnston says that the central line passed over Norway and Sweden. It seems, perhaps, a little strange that a writer who lived in Bithynia in the 3rd Century of the Christian Era should have picked up any information about something that happened in the extreme North of Europe two centuries previously. But probably the eclipse must have been seen in Italy.

On November 24, A.D. 29, there happened an eclipse of the Sun which is sometimes spoken of as the “eclipse of Phlegon.” Eusebius, the ecclesiastical historian, records Phlegon’s testimony. Phlegon was a native of Tralles in Lydia, and one of the Emperor Adrian’s freedmen. The eclipse in question happened at noon, and the stars were seen. It was total, and the line of totality, according to Hind,[62] passed across the Black Sea from near Odessa to Sinope, thence near the site of Nineveh to the Persian Gulf. A partial eclipse with four-fifths of the Sun’s diameter covered was visible at Jerusalem. This is the only solar eclipse which was visible at Jerusalem during the period usually fixed for Christ’s public ministry. This eclipse was for a long time, and by various writers, associated with the darkness which prevailed at Jerusalem on the day of our Lord’s Crucifixion, but there seems no warrant whatever for associating the two events. The Crucifixion darkness was assuredly a supernatural phenomenon, and there is nothing supernatural in a total eclipse of the Sun. To this it may be added that both Tertullian at the beginning of the 3rd century and Lucian, the martyr of Nicomedia, who died in 312, appealed to the testimony of national archives then in existence, as witnessing to the fact that a supernatural darkness had prevailed at the time of Christ’s death. Moreover, the generally recorded date of the Crucifixion, namely, April 3, A.D. 33, would coincide with a full Moon. As it happened, that full Moon suffered eclipse, but she emerged from the Earth’s shadow about a quarter of an hour before she rose at Jerusalem (6 h. 36 m. p.m.): the penumbra continued upon her disc for an hour afterwards.

Speaking of the Emperor Claudius, Dion Cassius[63] says:—“There was going to be an eclipse on his birthday. Claudius feared some disturbance, as there had been other prodigies, so he put forth a public notice, not only that the obscuration would take place and about the time and magnitude of it, but also about the causes which produce such events.” This is an interesting statement, especially in view of what I have said on a previous page about the indifference of the Romans to Astronomy. It would, likewise, be interesting to know how Claudius acquired his knowledge, and who coached him up in the matter. This eclipse occurred on August 1, A.D. 45. Barely half the Sun’s diameter was covered.

Philostratus[64] states that “about this time while he was pursuing his studies in Greece such an omen was observable in the heavens. A crown resembling Iris surrounded the disc of the Sun and darkened its rays.” “About this time” is to be understood as referring to some date shortly preceding the death of the Emperor Domitian which occurred on September 18, A.D. 96. This has usually been regarded as the earliest allusion to what we now call the Sun’s “Corona”; or, as an alternative idea, that the allusion is simply to an annular eclipse of the Sun. But both these theories have been called in question; by Johnston because he cannot find an eclipse which in his view of things will respond as regards date to the statement of Philostratus, and by Lynn on the same ground and on other grounds, more suo. The question of identification requires looking into more fully. There was a total eclipse on May 21, A.D. 95, but it was only visible as a partial eclipse in Western Asia and not visible at all in Greece. This is given as the conclusion arrived at by the German astronomer Ginzel. But it does not seem to me sufficient to overthrow, without further investigation, the fairly plain language of Philostratus, which is possibly confirmed by a passage in Plutarch[65] in which he discusses certain eclipse phenomena in the light of a recent eclipse. The date of Plutarch’s “recent” eclipse is somewhat uncertain, but that fact does not necessarily militate against his testimony respecting the Corona or what is regarded to have been such. The statement of Philostratus, treated as a mention of a total solar eclipse, is accepted as sufficiently conclusive by Sir W. Huggins and the late Professor R. Grant. Johnston, to meet the supposed difficulty of finding an eclipse to accord with the assertion of the historian, suggests that “perhaps some peculiar solar halo or mock Sun, or other meteorological formation” is referred to. But Stockwell has advanced very good reasons for the opinion that the eclipse of Sept. 3, A.D. 118, fully meets the circumstances of the case. Grant’s opinion is given in these emphatic words:—“It appears to me that the words here quoted [from Apollonius] refer beyond all doubt to a total eclipse of the Sun, and thus the phenomenon seen encompassing the Sun’s disc was, really as well as verbally, identical with the modern Corona.”[66]

With the end of the first century of the Christian Era we may be said to quit the realms of classical history and to pass on to eclipse records of a different character, and, so far as regards European observations, of comparatively small scientific value or usefulness. Our information is largely derived from ecclesiastical historians and, later on, from monkish chronicles, which as a rule are meagre in a surprising degree. Perhaps I ought not to say “surprising,” because after the times of the Greek astronomers (who in their way may almost be regarded as professionals), and after the epoch of the famous Ptolemy, Astronomy well-nigh ceased to exist for many centuries in Europe, until, say, the 15th century, barring the labours of the Arabians and their kinsmen the Moors in Spain in the 9th and following centuries.