Wonders and portents

Wonders and portents

Detail of a Hubble Space Telescope mosaic image of the Crab Nebula • NASA, ESA, J. Hester and A. Loll (Arizona State University)

Originally published 12 December 2004

It is the morn­ing of July 5, 1054 A.D. You wake to a thin cres­cent moon between the horns of Tau­rus the Bull, low in the east­ern sky. And near­by — won­der of won­ders — a bril­liant new celes­tial object, appar­ent­ly a star, but shin­ing more bright­ly than any star you have ever seen, four times brighter than Venus, so bright that for the next sev­er­al weeks it will be vis­i­ble even in daylight.

The new star slow­ly fades. With­in a few years it is gone.

The new star of 1054 was vis­i­ble from pret­ty near­ly every inhab­it­ed part of the globe. Chi­nese observers record­ed it. Japan­ese and Arabs too. It is hard to imag­ine that any­one able to rise from their bed might have missed it.

We now know that the blaz­ing light in the sky was a super­no­va — the explo­sive death of a mas­sive star too far away to have been pre­vi­ous­ly vis­i­ble to the unaid­ed eye — one of only a dozen or so of these rare celes­tial events that were record­ed by human observers before the advent of telescopes.

Today, if we turn our tele­scopes to the place between the Bul­l’s horns where the new star appeared, we see the shat­tered rem­nants of the prog­en­i­tor star, still rac­ing out­wards, called (from its shape) the Crab Neb­u­la.

It has always been some­thing of a mys­tery why no Euro­pean records of the super­no­va have been found. Sure­ly so spec­tac­u­lar an event must have attract­ed wide notice, espe­cial­ly among a peo­ple obsessed with reli­gious super­sti­tion. It was, after all, not so many years after the turn of the mil­len­ni­um, when many Chris­tians expect­ed the end of the world.

It turns out that the super­no­va may have a Euro­pean record after all. I thank Ger­ry Wrixon, pres­i­dent of Ire­land’s Uni­ver­si­ty Col­lege Cork — and a radio astronomer — for draw­ing my atten­tion to an arti­cle pub­lished in 1997 in Peri­tia, the jour­nal of the Medieval Acad­e­my of Ireland.

Daniel McCarthy, a com­put­er sci­en­tist, and Aidan Breen, a schol­ar of Celtic stud­ies sur­veyed Irish monas­tic records from the com­ing of Chris­tian­i­ty in the 5th cen­tu­ry to the dis­so­lu­tion of the monas­ter­ies in the 16th cen­tu­ry, com­pil­ing an inven­to­ry of astro­nom­i­cal and mete­o­ro­log­i­cal observations.

They found near­ly 100 rel­e­vant nota­tions, includ­ing obser­va­tions of eclipses, comets, and extra­or­di­nary auro­ral dis­plays. Two entries record clouds of dust (from Ice­landic vol­canos) that col­ored and obscured the sky. An annal entry in the year 1054 is inter­pret­ed by McCarthy and Breen as a record of the supernova.

The per­ti­nent 1054 entry states: “A round tow­er of fire was seen in the air over Ros Ela on Sun­day the feast of S. George for five hours of the day.”

It takes a stretch of the imag­i­na­tion to con­nect this short pas­sage with a super­no­va. The rel­e­vant part, accord­ing to McCarthy and Breen, is that some­thing fiery was seen from a cer­tain iden­ti­fi­able place for five hours in daylight.

Ros Ela is a town­land near the ancient monas­tic site of Dur­row, in Coun­ty West­meath, and the super­no­va would indeed have appeared over that place as observed from the monastery.

As for the “round tow­er of fire” and the spu­ri­ous date (the feast of St. George is April 24), these appear to be lat­er inter­po­la­tions into the record for the sake of con­nect­ing the celes­tial event to the Com­ing of the Antichrist as pre­dict­ed by Revelation.

The “tow­er of fire” pre­sum­ably rep­re­sents the scrip­tur­al “great star…blazing like a torch” (Rev­e­la­tion 8:10), and St. George would have been a log­i­cal war­rior hero to con­front the demon horde. The fan­ci­ful pas­sage that fol­lows the pre­sumed ref­er­ence to the super­no­va evokes an apoc­a­lyp­tic vision.

Slight evi­dence, indeed. But the Irish annal­ists proved them­selves to be obser­vant and gen­er­al­ly accu­rate with their record­ings of eclipses and comets, most of which can be checked using mod­ern astro­nom­i­cal com­pu­ta­tion. It would have been puz­zling if they failed to note what must have been the most spec­tac­u­lar appari­tion of all.

For the monks of 11th-cen­tu­ry Ire­land, these extra­or­di­nary celes­tial events were inter­est­ing pri­mar­i­ly as apoc­a­lyp­tic signs and por­tents to be inter­pret­ed with­in a scrip­tur­al context.

Antic­i­pa­tion of the End Times has been a peren­ni­al pre­oc­cu­pa­tion of cer­tain super­sti­tious Chris­tians — no less today than in the Mid­dle Ages, as wit­nessed by the huge­ly pop­u­lar Left Behind series of nov­els. Nature will nev­er fail to pro­vide omens and por­tents to a mind pre­dis­posed to believe.

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