III Tycho Brahe 1546–1601
Esse potius quam haberi
There is a small island called Hveen which lies in the Sound half-way between the coasts of Denmark and Sweden and about ten miles north of Copenhagen. It looks now a rather desolate and abandoned place. But if you had been alive about the year 1580 and had gone there, you would have been very much surprised at what you found. On landing you would have seen right above you in the middle of the island, rising up out of the trees, a wonderful castle with galleries and turrets and gilded spires, just like a palace in a fairy tale. Let us imagine it was summer, and you were very bold and wended your way up the rocks through a grove of fruit trees into a lovely garden with avenues and terraces and fountains and gorgeous flower-beds. An attendant is standing in the porch, and you ask him to show you round, as you are naturally curious to see what the inside of such a place is like. The inside is even more surprising. As you pass through the hall and along the stone corridors lit by stained-glass windows, the song of caged birds, the splash of fountains, and the distant sound of music greet your ear. You notice Latin inscriptions painted over the doors and rich decoration on all sides.
Through the windows of the spacious rooms filled with carved furniture and decorated with pictures and tapestries you catch a glimpse of a glorious view of the Swedish and Danish coast, with the towers of Copenhagen in the far distance. In the great library there are cabinets of rare and beautiful objects: the walls are lined with books: the tables are piled with papers all covered with numbers and geometrical figures: curious-looking instruments stand on the shelves: an enormous brass globe occupies one corner of the room and a complicated-looking clock, all wheels and works, stands in another. Down in the basement you find a vast apartment where masses of bottles and crucibles and retorts and glasses filled with strange-colored mixtures are ranged on shelves and tables. Who on earth lives in such a place as this? you ask the attendant. It is the Castle of Uraniborg, he tells you, the home of the Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe—the greatest astronomer of the age—who is known as “the noblest of the learned and the most learned of the nobles,” and he whispers under his breath that he is a magician.
Laughter and the sound of animated voices reach you as you pass the door of the banqueting hall. Your informant explains that there are guests in the castle—a prince and his suite have spent the day there, and some learned men from foreign lands form part of the company. The evening is closing in, and attendants come hurrying from all quarters carrying books and instruments; a student from one of the observatories in the towers goes into the hall to inform his master that the night is clear. Through the open doorway you catch sight of the great man himself, sitting at the end of his dining-table, discoursing vivaciously to his guests. He is a broad-shouldered, burly-looking man, with short, bright red hair and a thick mustache curling over an auburn beard. But what an odd nose he has got! it seems to shine like metal. It is metal, the attendant tells you: for once, as a student, he fought a duel with another student, and his adversary got the best of it and slashed Tycho’s nose right off with his sword. He made himself a new nose out of a mixture of gold and silver, which he stuck on and wore for the rest of his life. Crouching at the foot of his chair you observe a funny little dwarf, his jester, who from time to time takes morsels of food from his hand and interrupts the conversation with some ridiculous joke.
Soon the banquet is over, the procession passes out, and you notice how grandly the astronomer is dressed, with doublet and white ruff, a sword at his side, a chain of gold round his neck. The prince and his courtiers do not appear more magnificent. Is it out of compliment to his guests? No, you are told; when he goes to watch the stars, even alone, he always dresses like this, as if he were some great ambassador accredited by the earth to the heavens.
The guests walk across the castle yard, down a flight of steps to a domed subterranean building not far off called Stjerneborg—the castle of the stars—which is entirely given up to astronomical requirements, the only decoration on the walls being portraits of astronomers, including one of Tycho himself. There, when the prince has left the island and the other guests have retired to rest, the astronomer will remain rapt in contemplation of the mysteries of the universe.
Our remotest ancestors were struck with awe and interest when they looked at the heavens. They believed them to be the residence of God, and at the same time they were their clock and calendar. Astronomy is a very ancient science. It was practised by the Egyptians, the Chinese, and the Babylonians in the remotest ages of history, as well as by the Arabs and Greeks. The most marvelous discoveries have been made with regard to the number and motion of the stars since the days when primæval man looked on the heavens as a great blue vault “fretted with golden fire.” It may have been thought once that the stars could be numbered. The telescope and photography have shown this to be impossible, and have taught us the overwhelming fact that our universe contains, at the very least, one hundred millions of suns, and that the light from some of the most distant stars has taken over 18,000 years to reach us! This seems very bewildering, though not more so than to know that there are animals so minute that if a thousand of them were ranged abreast they would easily swim, without being thrown out of line, through the eye of the finest needle. We live in the midst of incomprehensible marvels, infinitely great and infinitely small, between the limitless future and the limitless past.
What wonderful patience and toil it must have required for the astronomers of all nations, working together and comparing notes, to store up the vast amount of knowledge of the heavens which we now possess. It is amazing, too, to think how three or four hundred years ago they were able to make so many discoveries and calculations without the aid of a telescope. For before 1600 the telescope was practically unknown. So when you see standing in a modern observatory gigantic instruments, thirty or forty feet long, of marvelous ingenuity and highly complicated mechanism, which in spite of their size and weight are capable of being moved by a hair’s breadth and adjusted to the hundredth part of an inch: their object-glasses alone perhaps over thirty inches in diameter, costing thousands of dollars; and then you think of these early astronomers gazing through a hole in a vaulted roof at the tiny specks of light with their naked eye, the work they accomplished appears still more astounding. It is true that their discoveries were at first casual and haphazard. But at last it occurred to one of them that the progress of astronomy depended on continuous observation and the most scrupulously accurate calculations, carefully planned and carried on over a number of years. It was Tycho Brahe who first did this.
You have heard of Copernicus, the Pole, who was really the founder of modern astronomy, because he discovered that the earth went round the sun and was not the center of the universe, as every one had supposed. He died three years before Tycho Brahe was born. Galileo, the famous Italian, was born in 1564 and lived till he was seventy-eight. He made further discoveries about the stars and used a telescope of a very primitive kind. He supported Copernicus’s theory with regard to the relative movement of the earth and the sun, and this brought upon him the serious displeasure of the Church. The notion that the earth was not the center of the universe was considered wicked and blasphemous. The Pope commanded him to come to Rome, and after a long trial he was made, under the threat of torture, to retract what he had said. The story is that as he turned away at the end of his trial he stamped his foot on the ground and muttered: “E pur si muove!” (And yet it does move!)
Kepler is another well-known astronomer, of whom we shall hear again. These three are all more eminent men than Tycho Brahe, whose fame does not depend on any startling discovery, but on the fact that he devised wonderful instruments, and by unceasing energy and industry collected a mass of material which was of untold value to his successors. But perhaps most of all it is his romantic life and his strong character which make him stand out in history.
Tycho was born in 1546 and was the eldest of ten children. His father, Otto Brahe, was lord of Knudstrup in Scaane, which now forms part of Sweden. At an early age he was adopted by his uncle, Jorgen Brahe, who treated him as if he were his son, had him educated at Copenhagen, but by spoiling him a good deal was no doubt responsible for the somewhat conceited and domineering manner he developed in later years. At the age of fourteen Tycho received what might be termed his “call” from the heavens. It came in the form of an eclipse of the sun, which roused the boy’s interest to such an extent that from that moment he made up his mind to turn his attention to astronomy. It is a curious fact that ten years later, when chemistry had so absorbed him that he had almost abandoned his astronomical studies, he again received a sign from the heavens. This time it was the appearance of a new star which he observed one night while walking from his laboratory, and which caused him to take up again the beloved pursuit of which he never wearied to his dying day. He discovered the new star, and it may be equally truly said that the star discovered him. But at first the idea of his devoting his time to astronomy was not at all favored or encouraged. After he had spent three years in the Copenhagen University his uncle sent him to Leipzig, where it was intended he should study law. His tutor, who accompanied him, conscientiously tried to make Tycho devote all his attention and time to his legal studies, but his task was almost hopeless. It is impossible to force any one to take an interest in something he does not like. These obstacles only served to strengthen Tycho’s resolve. He devoured every book he could find on astronomy, and at night, unknown to his tutor, he would creep out and begin his first intercourse with the stars. A copy of Ptolemy’s great work on astronomy, copiously annotated and marked by the schoolboy, is preserved as one of the chief treasures in the library of the University at Prague.
While he was thus engaged a fatal accident befell his uncle. Jorgen Brahe was riding in attendance on the King of Denmark when a bridge collapsed under them. He plunged into the water and attempted to save the King’s life. In consequence of this he contracted a chill, which soon afterwards caused his death. Tycho hurried home to Copenhagen, but he did not stay long. He returned to Germany and continued his studies at Wittenberg, the home of the great Reformer Luther, who had been dead only about twenty years. He seems to have had no desire to go home, for he settled down at Rostock and then at Augsburg, where he was fortunate enough to find many scientific men with whom he could associate and exchange ideas. Here it was that he invented and constructed some remarkable astronomical instruments, one of which was that enormous globe you saw in his library. It was four feet in diameter, and covered with a coating of brass on which was engraved a representation of the heavens founded on his own observations.
Otto Brahe, who was governor of Helsingborg Castle, died in 1570, and Tycho returned to Denmark to arrange his father’s affairs. Another uncle placed his house at the disposal of his remarkable young nephew, and soon Tycho was eagerly watching his new star, about which he wrote a book in Latin. There was some difficulty about publishing the book, because it was supposed to be beneath the dignity of a nobleman to demean himself by writing books. However, by the assistance of friends, it was published and added very much to his reputation. This was an age when nobles and aristocrats had great power and dominated the country. Like nobles in all ages, physical work in time of peace or mental work of any kind was beneath their dignity: they occupied most of their time in pleasure and amusement. They considered themselves the elect, who were born to be served. Although he belonged by birth to this class, Tycho detested the frivolous, aimless lives they led. In a letter in which he expresses his intention of leaving Denmark, he says:
Neither my country nor my friends keep me back; one who has courage finds a home in every place and lives a happy life every where. Friends, too, one can find in all countries. There will always be time enough to return to the cold North to follow the general example, and, like the rest, in pride and luxury to play for the rest of one’s years with wine, dogs, and horses (for if these were lacking how could the nobles be happy?). May God, as I trust He will, accord me a better lot.
He traveled about in Germany, Austria, and Italy, and he made great friends with the Landgrave of Hesse, who was very much interested in mathematics and astronomy and had a fine observatory of his own. While Tycho was staying with him at Cassel a serious fire broke out in the palace. But such was the astronomer’s power of concentration and absorption in his work that, regardless of the general alarm, he could not be persuaded to leave his study until he had finished the particular piece of work with which he was occupied at the moment.
The fame of the great astronomer was now spreading, and the King of Denmark, Frederick II, who heard his praises sung by the Landgrave of Hesse, was determined to show his appreciation of the remarkable talents of his subject in a practical way. He therefore presented Tycho Brahe with the island of Hveen, in the Baltic, as his own personal property, with sufficient money to erect on it whatever buildings he might desire. The foundation of the great castle was laid on August 30, 1576. A party of scientific friends had assembled, and the time had been chosen so that the heavenly bodies were auspiciously placed. Libations of costly wines were poured forth and the stone was laid with due solemnity. Here at Uraniborg, the castle you visited, he lived for about twenty years, keeping a diary not only of astronomical observations but of all events that passed on the island.
The peasants on the island, whom he doctored and to whom he gave medicines for nothing, regarded him of course as a wizard, and a number of strange legends were circulated about the magician and his wonderful castle. Many visitors came to visit him at Uraniborg from all parts of the world—distinguished astronomers, mathematicians, philosophers, divines, princes and kings. Queen Sophie of Denmark came on several occasions and brought her father, Duke Ulrich of Mecklenburg. In 1590 James VI of Scotland, who thirteen years later became James I of England, came over to marry Princess Anne of Denmark. She had intended to go to the home of her betrothed, but owing to stormy weather had been wrecked off the coast of Norway. James therefore, who rather feared that Queen Elizabeth might interfere and upset his plans of marriage, sailed forth himself to fetch his bride. The marriage was celebrated at Oslo, on the coast of Norway, and the royal couple came subsequently on a visit to Copenhagen. James took the opportunity to visit Uraniborg, and was very much interested in Tycho Brahe’s work. On leaving the island he asked what he should give the astronomer in return for his hospitality. Tycho, like a true courtier, replied: “Some of your Majesty’s own verses.” The King was delighted and readily acquiesced. Tycho’s opinion of the literary efforts of the poet King is not recorded. Queen Elizabeth’s Minister at the Court of Denmark also visited the island, and Duncan Liddel, the Scottish astronomer.
Tycho was a great talker; he had a somewhat overbearing and arrogant manner, and was intolerant and contemptuous with those whom he considered to be his inferiors intellectually. But although he was conceited he was thoroughly genuine, and despised the shams and artificialities of life. His motto was Esse potius quam haberi (To be rather than to seem to be). That is to say, he did not value reputation and fame unless it was accompanied by real accomplishment. He preferred working hard for the pure satisfaction of doing good work, even if it were not recognized, and he despised people who got credit and fame without really deserving it. He was quite right. And it is worth remembering that many people who are doing valuable work in the world remain absolutely unknown: while many of the names which appear most frequently before the public are those of men who have become famous by chance and not by merit.
In addition to being an astronomer, Tycho was a skilled mechanic, mathematician, and architect: he wrote verses which were much admired and was a great lover of music. It was only natural in such an age that a man who devoted himself to astronomy and chemistry should believe in astrology and alchemy; and it is not to be wondered at that Tycho Brahe should have attempted to find some connection between the movements of the stars and the course of events in the lives of men. When the King of Denmark asked him to cast the horoscope of some of the young princes, that is to say, foretell their future by the position of the stars at the time of their birth, he did it very elaborately, but with a caution that too much reliance should not be placed on such prophecies. His first attempt at prophesying was anything but successful. He said the eclipse of the moon in 1566 meant that the Turkish Sultan would die. Presently the news arrived of the Sultan’s death, but it appeared that it had taken place before the eclipse—a fact which caused people to laugh at Tycho’s expense. But he certainly made one very singular prediction from the appearance of the comet of 1577. It announced, he declared, that in the north, in Finland, there would be born a prince who would lay waste Germany and vanish in 1632. Now, Gustavus Adolphus, the King of Sweden, was born in Finland, overran Germany, and died in 1632.
Tycho, indeed, was superstitious by nature. If he met an old woman or a hare on going out, he took it as a bad omen and would return home; and he often listened attentively to the sayings and prophecies of Jeppe, his dwarf jester.
It is not surprising that such a man as this did not marry one of his own class. A lady of the nobility would have been too frightened to lead such an adventurous life and an educated woman would have refused to submit to so domineering and tyrannical a nature in a husband. When he was twenty-seven he married a poor peasant girl by whose beauty he had been struck, and she seems to have been more of a servant than a companion to him.
The glories of the Castle of Uraniborg were not destined to last for long, and no one was to blame for this but Tycho himself, though he certainly had enemies who were jealous of him, and who were only too ready to take advantage of the decline in his fortunes. A series of unpleasant incidents, combined with his somewhat restless and discontented spirit, forced him at last to abandon his magnificent home and to leave his native land for good. He had neglected his duties, squandered his money, and displeased people by his views. The peasants on the island complained of ill-treatment. A disagreeable lawsuit with regard to his daughter’s marriage worried him, and many of his influential friends at court had died or retired. He addressed a letter to the King of Denmark, Christian IV, the son of his original patron, Frederick II, hoping to be restored to favor, but he was sternly rebuked and his pension was withdrawn. A poem lamenting over the ingratitude of Denmark shows with what keen regret he left the country. It must have been a tragic moment when all his instruments and treasures were packed up and the castle and observatory left deserted. There is hardly any trace even of the ruins on the island to-day. The truth is that a man engaged in intellectual work is only hampered by such lavish patronage. Tycho’s head was turned, and indeed he would have required to have a very strong character to remain unaffected in such peculiar conditions.
Undismayed, however, by temporary bad fortune, the astronomer, after a year or so of travel, during which he never ceased from his work, turned from one royal patron to another. He was received at Prague in 1599 by the Emperor Rudolph the Second, who pensioned him and gave him the castle of Benatke, near by, where he established himself and his family and set up at once an observatory. Comfortable as he was, still he yearned for his fatherland and never forgot the great generosity of his munificent friend, King Frederick II.
Among the disciples and assistants who gathered round him here was Johann Kepler, whom we mentioned before. He was then twenty-eight years old, and lived to become an even greater astronomer than Tycho Brahe himself. He owed a great deal to the profound and extensive observations of his master on the subject of fixed stars, and with the aid of all the careful information which Tycho had gathered together and bequeathed to his favorite pupil on his death, he made important discoveries with regard to the movements of the planets, and elaborated a much more advanced idea of the universe. Curiously enough, Tycho Brahe, with all his astonishing industry, never completely accepted the system of Copernicus. His idea was that the earth was the center of the universe and the sun formed the center for the orbits of the planets, but the sun itself, together with the planets, moved round the earth.
By his diligent observation of a thousand fixed stars, he gave to the world a catalogue of accurate positions of these bodies which took the place of the old catalogue of Ptolemy of Alexandria, who lived in the second century. This catalogue of observations held its own for more than a hundred years, until telescopes and clocks of precision came into use. It was the mighty impulse that Tycho Brahe gave to practical astronomy that caused that science to be taken up at universities, among which those of Copenhagen and Leyden were the first to found observatories.
In 1601, at the age of fifty-five, Tycho Brahe died after a short illness. He was accorded by the Emperor’s orders a funeral of great pomp, and buried in the Teyn Church at Prague. In the funeral oration pronounced over his grave he was well described thus:
In his words were truth and brevity, in his demeanor and countenance sincerity, in his counsel wisdom, in his deeds success. In him was nothing artificial or hypocritical, but he spoke his mind straight out, and to this no doubt is due the hatred with which many regarded him. He coveted nothing but time, and his endeavor was to be of service to all and hurtful to none.
The tomb, with the effigy of the great Danish astronomer and the epitaph composed by Kepler, was restored and put in order in 1901, on the celebration of the three-hundredth anniversary of his death.
By his wonderful industry Tycho Brahe laid the foundations on which others were able to build up great inventions and great discoveries. A discoverer or inventor may only put the finishing touch to the labor of others who have gone before him, preparing the way. Their names may not be known, their work may be forgotten, while he gets all the praise and renown for the famous achievement, which, however, without the help of his predecessors he could never have accomplished. You may see a man trying to pull a stiff cork out of a bottle. He fails. Another man tries. He too fails. A third man tries and out it comes. “Ah,” every one says, “he has done what the others could not do.” But the truth is that he succeeded because the first two men loosened the cork before him. Much of the great preparatory toil of the world’s work has been done by men and women whose names do not appear in any record. Tycho, however, did leave his mark, for it was not usual for a man of noble birth to devote his time to arduous study.
By far the greater number of men who are famous in history, especially those who have achieved renown in science and the arts, have been men of humble origin who have had to work for their living and even struggle against the adversity which poverty brings. It is this very struggle and continuous effort that is the making of them. Those who are born in more fortunate circumstances, and are surrounded by luxury and comfort which tempt them to lead lives of ease and idleness rarely succeed in accomplishing notable achievements. Alexander Humboldt, who lived at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century, is another notable instance of a man of high position (and in his case, too, considerable means) giving up his life to an untiring pursuit of knowledge and to amassing a remarkable amount of valuable scientific information.
To work when you need not work, to prevent your time being wasted in pleasure and amusements and your efforts being relaxed by comforts and luxuries, is perhaps even more difficult than the struggle against necessity and poverty. Only a few great men brought up in such circumstances have succeeded. Tycho Brahe was one of them, and it is very greatly to his credit that by strength of will and character he overcame to the extent he did these formidable obstacles.
A. P.