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February 25, 1598 - Total Solar Eclipse Observed in Edinburgh
More Events on This Day - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/february-25/
Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn our eyes to the heavens and travel back to February 25, 1598, when the people of Edinburgh witnessed a total solar eclipse—an event that, in those days, was as terrifying as it was awe-inspiring. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at https://bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!
In our modern world, we understand eclipses as rare but predictable celestial events—caused by the Moon passing directly between the Earth and the Sun, temporarily plunging parts of the world into darkness. But in the late 16th century, astronomical knowledge was still developing, and for many in Scotland, a total eclipse was an omen—perhaps of divine displeasure, impending war, or even the end of days.
Imagine the scene in Edinburgh on that winter’s day. The people went about their daily business—merchants haggling in the bustling markets, scholars deep in study at the newly founded University of Edinburgh, and noblemen discussing affairs of state. But as the morning progressed, an eerie stillness would have settled over the city. The sky, instead of brightening as the sun climbed higher, would have begun to dim. Shadows stretched strangely, the light turning an unnatural shade, like the world itself was slipping into twilight. Then, the moment of totality—sudden and complete darkness. The temperature dropped, birds fell silent, and a hush would have swept through the streets as fear took hold.
Without the benefit of modern science, many would have turned to their faith for explanations. Some may have flocked to St. Giles’ Cathedral, falling to their knees in prayer, believing that God's judgment was at hand. Others, recalling old folk tales, might have feared the workings of witches or malevolent spirits. The more learned among them—those familiar with the astronomical theories of the time—may have recognized that the event was a natural occurrence, but even they couldn’t have fully predicted or explained it with the precision we can today.
Eclipses had long been viewed with superstition. Medieval chronicles often linked them to great disasters—plagues, wars, or the deaths of kings. Only a few decades earlier, in 1580, a similar eclipse had been recorded in England, and some had whispered that it foretold the Spanish Armada’s failed invasion. Even further back, ancient Scots and Picts might have regarded such celestial events as portents, with their druids and seers interpreting the darkness in ways lost to time.
For King James VI of Scotland, later to become James I of England, the eclipse of 1598 might have held special significance. James had a deep interest in both theology and the supernatural—he even wrote Daemonologie, a book on witchcraft and demonology. It’s not hard to imagine that the sudden blotting out of the sun would have intrigued, or perhaps unsettled, the scholarly king. Would he have seen it as a sign from God? A warning? Or merely a curiosity of the natural world?
We don’t know exactly how long the darkness lasted over Edinburgh, but totality would have only been a few minutes at most—yet in that brief span, the people of the city must have felt as though the world had shifted. Then, as quickly as it had vanished, the sunlight would have returned. Confusion would have given way to relief. The city resumed its daily life, but surely with whispers of what it all might have meant.
In the centuries that followed, Scotland would embrace scientific advancements, with figures like James Gregory, a 17th-century mathematician from Aberdeen, helping to pioneer early telescope designs. But in 1598, the eclipse remained a mystery—one that left an indelible mark on those who witnessed it.
Today, we look back on this event not with fear, but with fascination, recognizing it as a moment when nature momentarily defied human understanding. It’s a reminder of how far we’ve come in our grasp of the cosmos—and of the wonder that still fills us when day turns to night, even if just for a moment.
Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into the past, where science, superstition, and spectacle collided. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at https://bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com
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By Bagtown ClansMore Events on This Day - https://bagtownclans.com/index.php/thisday/february-25/
Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I'm your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we turn our eyes to the heavens and travel back to February 25, 1598, when the people of Edinburgh witnessed a total solar eclipse—an event that, in those days, was as terrifying as it was awe-inspiring. And if you’re curious about other fascinating events that happened on this day in history, be sure to check out my blog at https://bagtownclans.com/thisday. The link will be in the description!
In our modern world, we understand eclipses as rare but predictable celestial events—caused by the Moon passing directly between the Earth and the Sun, temporarily plunging parts of the world into darkness. But in the late 16th century, astronomical knowledge was still developing, and for many in Scotland, a total eclipse was an omen—perhaps of divine displeasure, impending war, or even the end of days.
Imagine the scene in Edinburgh on that winter’s day. The people went about their daily business—merchants haggling in the bustling markets, scholars deep in study at the newly founded University of Edinburgh, and noblemen discussing affairs of state. But as the morning progressed, an eerie stillness would have settled over the city. The sky, instead of brightening as the sun climbed higher, would have begun to dim. Shadows stretched strangely, the light turning an unnatural shade, like the world itself was slipping into twilight. Then, the moment of totality—sudden and complete darkness. The temperature dropped, birds fell silent, and a hush would have swept through the streets as fear took hold.
Without the benefit of modern science, many would have turned to their faith for explanations. Some may have flocked to St. Giles’ Cathedral, falling to their knees in prayer, believing that God's judgment was at hand. Others, recalling old folk tales, might have feared the workings of witches or malevolent spirits. The more learned among them—those familiar with the astronomical theories of the time—may have recognized that the event was a natural occurrence, but even they couldn’t have fully predicted or explained it with the precision we can today.
Eclipses had long been viewed with superstition. Medieval chronicles often linked them to great disasters—plagues, wars, or the deaths of kings. Only a few decades earlier, in 1580, a similar eclipse had been recorded in England, and some had whispered that it foretold the Spanish Armada’s failed invasion. Even further back, ancient Scots and Picts might have regarded such celestial events as portents, with their druids and seers interpreting the darkness in ways lost to time.
For King James VI of Scotland, later to become James I of England, the eclipse of 1598 might have held special significance. James had a deep interest in both theology and the supernatural—he even wrote Daemonologie, a book on witchcraft and demonology. It’s not hard to imagine that the sudden blotting out of the sun would have intrigued, or perhaps unsettled, the scholarly king. Would he have seen it as a sign from God? A warning? Or merely a curiosity of the natural world?
We don’t know exactly how long the darkness lasted over Edinburgh, but totality would have only been a few minutes at most—yet in that brief span, the people of the city must have felt as though the world had shifted. Then, as quickly as it had vanished, the sunlight would have returned. Confusion would have given way to relief. The city resumed its daily life, but surely with whispers of what it all might have meant.
In the centuries that followed, Scotland would embrace scientific advancements, with figures like James Gregory, a 17th-century mathematician from Aberdeen, helping to pioneer early telescope designs. But in 1598, the eclipse remained a mystery—one that left an indelible mark on those who witnessed it.
Today, we look back on this event not with fear, but with fascination, recognizing it as a moment when nature momentarily defied human understanding. It’s a reminder of how far we’ve come in our grasp of the cosmos—and of the wonder that still fills us when day turns to night, even if just for a moment.
Thank you for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into the past, where science, superstition, and spectacle collided. Don't forget to check out my blog for more historical events at https://bagtownclans.com/thisday. Tune in tomorrow for another journey through Scotland’s remarkable past. I'm Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bagtown.substack.com