In the century which preceded the birth of Newton the science of astronomy advanced with the most rapid steps. Emerging from the darkness of the middle ages, the human mind seemed to rejoice in its new-born strength, and to apply itself with elastic vigour to unfold the mechanism of the heavens. The labours of Hipparchus and Ptolemy had indeed furnished many important epochs and supplied many valuable data; but the cumbrous appendages of cycles and epicycles with which they explained the stations and retrogradations of the planets, and the vulgar prejudices which a false interpretation of Scripture had excited against a belief in the motion of the earth, rendered it difficult even for great minds to escape from the trammels of authority, and appeal to the simplicity of nature.
The sovereign of Castile, the generous and noble-minded Alphonso, had long before proscribed the rude expedients of his predecessors; and when he declared that if the heavens were thus constituted, he could have given the Deity good advice, he must not only have felt the absurdity of the prevailing system, but must have obtained some foresight of a more simple arrangement. But neither he nor the astronomers whom he so liberally protected seem to have established a better system, and it was left to Copernicus to enjoy the dignity of being the restorer of astronomy.
This great man, a native of Thorn in Prussia, following his father’s profession, began his career as a doctor of medicine, but an accidental attendance on the mathematical lectures of Brudzevius excited a love for astronomy, which became the leading passion of his life. Quitting a profession uncongenial to such pursuits, he went to Bologna to study astronomy under Dominic Maria; and after having enjoyed the friendship and instruction of that able philosopher, he established himself at Rome in the humble situation of a teacher of mathematics. Here he made numerous astronomical observations which served him as the basis of future researches; but an event soon occurred which, though it interrupted for a while his important studies, placed him in a situation for pursuing them with new zeal. The death of one of the canons enabled his uncle, who was Bishop of Ermeland, to appoint him to a canonry in the chapter of Frauenburg, where, in a house situated on the brow of a mountain, he continued, in peaceful seclusion, to carry on his astronomical observations. During his residence at Rome his talents had been so well appreciated, that the Bishop of Fossombrona, who presided over the council for reforming the calendar, solicited the aid of Copernicus in this desirable undertaking. At first he entered warmly into the views of the council, and charged himself with the determination of the length of the year and of the month, and of the other motions of the sun and moon that seemed to be required; but he found the task too irksome, and probably felt that it would interfere with those interesting discoveries which had already begun to dawn upon his mind.
Copernicus is said to have commenced his inquiries by an historical examination of the opinions of ancient authors on the system of the universe; but it is more likely that he sought for the authority of their great names to countenance his peculiar views, and that he was more desirous to present his own theory as one that he had received, rather than as one which he had invented. His mind had been long imbued with the idea that simplicity and harmony should characterize the arrangements of the planetary system, and, in the complication and disorder which reigned in the hypothesis of Ptolemy, he saw insuperable objections to its being regarded as a representation of nature. In the opinions of the Egyptian sages, in those of Pythagoras, Philolaus, Aristarchus, and Nicetas, he recognised his own earliest conviction that the earth was not the centre of the universe; but he appears to have considered it as still possible that our globe might perform some function in the system more important than that of the other planets; and his attention was much occupied with the speculation of Martianus Capella, who placed the sun between Mars and the moon, and made Mercury and Venus revolve round him as a centre; and with the system of Apollonius Pergæus, who made all the planets revolve round the sun, while the sun and moon were carried round the earth in the centre of the universe. The examination, however, of these hypotheses gradually dispelled the difficulties with which the subject was beset; and after the labours of more than thirty years, he was permitted to see the true system of the heavens. The sun he considered as immoveable in the centre of the system, while the earth revolved between the orbits of Venus and Mars, and produced by its rotation about its axis all the diurnal phenomena of the celestial sphere. The precession of the equinoxes was thus referred to a slight motion of the earth’s axis, and the stations and retrogradations of the planets were the necessary consequence of their own motions combined with that of the earth about the sun. These remarkable views were supported by numerous astronomical observations; and in 1530 Copernicus brought to a close his immortal work on the Revolutions of the Heavenly Bodies.
But while we admire the genius which triumphed over so many difficulties, we cannot fail to commend the extraordinary prudence with which he ushered his new system into the world. Aware of the prejudices, and even of the hostility with which such a system would be received, he resolved neither to startle the one nor provoke the other. He allowed his opinions to circulate in the slow current of personal communication. The points of opposition which they presented to established doctrines were gradually worn down, and they insinuated themselves into reception among the ecclesiastical circles by the very reluctance of their author to bring them into notice. In the year 1534, Cardinal Schonberg, Bishop of Capua, and Gyse, Bishop of Culm, exerted all their influence to induce Copernicus to lay his system before the world; but he resisted their solicitations; and it was not till 1539 that an accidental circumstance contributed to alter his resolution. George Rheticus, professor of mathematics at Wirtemberg, having heard of the labours of Copernicus, resigned his chair, and repaired to Frauenberg to make himself master of his discoveries. This zealous disciple prevailed upon his master to permit the publication of his system; and they seem to have arranged a plan for giving it to the world without alarming the vigilance of the church, or startling the prejudices of individuals. Under the disguise of a student of mathematics, Rheticus published in 1540 an account of the manuscript volume of Copernicus. This pamphlet was received without any disapprobation, and its author was encouraged to reprint it at Basle, in 1541, with his own name. The success of these publications, and the flattering manner in which the new astronomy was received by several able writers, induced Copernicus to place his MSS. in the hands of Rheticus. It was accordingly printed at the expense of Cardinal Schonberg, and appeared at Nuremberg in 1543. Its illustrious author, however, did not live to peruse it. A complete copy was handed to him in his last moments, and he saw and touched it a few hours before his death. This great work was dedicated to the Holy Pontiff, in order, as Copernicus himself says, that the authority of the head of the church might silence the calumnies of individuals who had attacked his views by arguments drawn from religion. Thus introduced, the Copernican system met with no ecclesiastical opposition, and gradually made its way in spite of the ignorance and prejudices of the age.
Among the astronomers who provided the materials of the Newtonian philosophy the name of Tycho Brahe merits a conspicuous place. Descended from an ancient Swedish family, he was born at Knudstorp, in Norway, in 1546, three years after the death of Copernicus. The great eclipse of the sun which happened on the 26th August, 1560, while he was at the University of Copenhagen, attracted his notice: and when he found that all its phenomena had been accurately predicted, he was seized with the most irresistible passion to acquire the knowledge of a science so infallible in its results. Destined for the profession of the law, his friends discouraged the pursuit which now engrossed his thoughts; and such were the reproaches and even persecutions to which he was exposed, that he quitted his country with the design of travelling through Germany. At the very commencement of his journey, however, an event occurred in which the impetuosity of his temper had nearly cost him his life. At a wedding-feast in Rostock, a questionable point in geometry involved him in a dispute with a Danish nobleman of the same temperament with himself; and the two mathematicians resolved to settle the difference by the sword. Tycho, however, seems to have been second in the conflict, for he lost the greater part of his nose, and was obliged to supply its place by a substitute of gold and silver, which a cement of glue attached to his face. During his stay at Augsburg he inspired the burgomaster of the city, Peter Hainzell, with a love of astronomy. This public-spirited citizen erected an excellent observatory at his own expense, and here Tycho began that distinguished career which has placed him in the first rank of practical astronomers.
Upon his return to Copenhagen in 1570, he was received with every mark of respect. The king invited him to court, and persons of all ranks harassed him with their attentions. At Herritzvold, near his native place, the house of his maternal uncle afforded him a retreat from the gayeties of the capital, and he was there offered every accommodation for the prosecution of his astronomical studies. Here, however, the passion of love and the pursuits of alchymy distracted his thoughts; but though the peasant girl of whom he was enamoured was of easier attainment than the philosopher’s stone, the marriage produced an open quarrel with his relations, which it required the interference of the king to allay. In the tranquillity of domestic happiness, Tycho resumed his study of the heavens, and in 1572 he enjoyed the singular good fortune of observing, through all its variations, the new star in Cassiopeia, which appeared with such extraordinary splendour as to be visible in the daytime, and which gradually disappeared in the following year.
Dissatisfied with his residence in Denmark, Tycho resolved to settle in some distant country; and having gone as far as Venice in search of a suitable residence, he at last fixed upon Basle, in Switzerland. The King of Denmark, however, had learned his intention from the Prince of Hesse; and when Tycho returned to Copenhagen to remove his family and his instruments, his sovereign announced to him his resolution to detain him in his kingdom. He presented him with the canonry of Roschild, with an income of 2000 crowns per annum. To this he added a pension of 1000 crowns; and he promised to give him the island of Huen, with a complete observatory erected under his own eye. This generous offer was instantly accepted. The celebrated observatory of Uraniburg was established at the expense of about 20,000l.; and in this magnificent retreat Tycho continued for twenty-one years to enrich astronomy with the most valuable observations. Admiring disciples crowded to this sanctuary of the sciences to acquire the knowledge of the heavens; and kings[34] and princes felt themselves honoured by becoming the guests of the great astronomer of the age.
One of the principal discoveries of Tycho was that of the inequality of the moon’s motion, called the variation. He detected, also, the annual equation which affects the place of her apogee and nodes, and he determined the greatest and the least inclination of the lunar orbit. His observations on the planets were numerous and precise, and have formed the data of the present generalizations in astronomy. Though thus skilful in the observation of phenomena, his mind was but little suited to investigate their cause, and it was probably owing to this defect that he rejected the system of Copernicus. The vanity of giving his own name to another system was not likely to actuate a mind such as his, and it was more probable that he was led to adopt the immobility of the earth, and to make the sun, with all his attendant planets, circulate round it, from the great difficulty which still presented itself by comparing the apparent diameter of the stars with the annual parallax of the earth’s orbit.
The death of Frederick in 1588 proved a severe calamity to Tycho, and to the science which he cultivated. During the first years of the minority of Christian IV. the regency continued the royal patronage to the observatory of Uraniburg; and in 1592 the young king paid a visit of some days to Tycho, and left him a gold chain in token of his favour. The astronomer, however, had made himself enemies at court, and the envy of his high reputation had probably added fresh malignity to the irritation of personal feelings. Under the ministry of Wolchendorf, a name for ever odious to science, Tycho’s pension was stopped;—he was in 1597 deprived of the canonry of Roschild, and was thus forced, with his wife and children, to seek an asylum in a foreign land. His friend, Henry Rantzau, of Wansbeck, under whose roof he found a hospitable shelter, was fortunately acquainted with the emperor Rodolph II., who, to his love of science, added a passion for alchymy and astrology. The reputation of Tycho having already reached the imperial ear, the recommendation of Rantzau was scarcely necessary to ensure him his warmest friendship. Invited by the emperor, he repaired in 1599 to Prague, where he met with the kindest reception. A pension of three thousand crowns was immediately settled upon him, and a commodious observatory erected for his use in the vicinity of that city. Here the exiled astronomer renewed with delight his interrupted labours, and the gratitude which he cherished for the royal favour increased the satisfaction which he felt in having so unexpectedly found a resting-place for approaching age. These prospects of better days were enhanced by the good fortune of receiving two such men as Kepler and Longomontanus for his pupils; but the fallacy of human anticipation was here, as in so many other cases, strikingly displayed. Tycho was not aware of the inroads which both his labours and his disappointments had made upon his constitution. Though surrounded with affectionate friends and admiring disciples, he was still an exile in a foreign land. Though his country had been base in its ingratitude, it was yet the land which he loved,—the scene of his earliest affection,—the theatre of his scientific glory. These feelings continually preyed upon his mind, and his unsettled spirit was ever hovering among his native mountains. In this condition he was attacked with a disease of the most painful kind, and though the paroxysms of its agonies had lengthened intermissions, yet he saw that death was approaching. He implored his pupils to persevere in their scientific labours. He conversed with Kepler on some of the profoundest points of astronomy, and with these secular occupations he mingled frequent acts of piety and devotion. In this happy condition he expired without pain at the age of fifty-five, the unquestionable victim of the councils of Christian IV.