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.
IV
CERVANTES
1547–1616
Leisure, an agreeable residence, pleasant fields, serene skies,
murmuring streams, and tranquillity of mind—by these the most barren
muse may become fruitful and produce that which will delight and
astonish the world.
It is not often that great men are recognized in their lifetime. They
may have a few admirers, but their work is probably the subject of
dispute and disagreement, and not till years have passed, and the
smaller men who attracted momentary attention have been forgotten, are
they valued at last at their true worth. Thus it may happen that men
who are talked about a great deal, and rather noisily praised by their
contemporaries, disappear almost entirely from the memory of man in
succeeding generations, while men who in their day have despaired of
success, have been neglected, and have sometimes felt the humiliation
of failure, live on in their work long after their death and exercise
an influence more far-reaching than they themselves ever dreamed of.
Of course you have heard of Don Quixote, and you have probably read
some of his amusing adventures—how he went about with his funny little
squire, Sancho Panza, and gave proof of his heroism in many diverting
ways. But the book in which his adventures are written is not only an
entertaining story—it is a wonderfully accurate picture of Spanish life
in the sixteenth century, and is a record of many interesting events
that took place outside Spain as well. When it was published in 1605,
the book was very popular in Spain, but nobody thought it was going
to become one of the world’s greatest books, no one guessed that it
would be translated into more foreign languages than any other book in
the world except the Bible and Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress.” No one,
therefore, paid much attention to the author, and his very birthplace
was not even remembered after he died. But when the Spaniards found
that Cervantes had become famous throughout the world, then they took
the trouble to unearth something about his history, and it was found
that he had a claim to fame as a man, apart from his renown as an
author.
Cervantes was a soldier. It is not usual for a soldier to write
imaginative books. But he was not a soldier in a regular army, drilling
every day in a barrack square, but a soldier who went out and fought,
endured fearful hardships, and had the most terrible adventures. He
gained in this way a very wide knowledge of the world, which, combined
with his powerful imagination, made him into one of the world’s
great geniuses.
[Illustration: CERVANTES]
Let us try and follow him through the main events of his crowded
life. Miguel de Cervantes was born in 1547. Alcala de Henares in New
Castille was his birthplace, but very little is known of his childhood.
As a boy he used to watch the strolling players in the town, and he
relates details of his recollection of them which remained stamped on
his memory. They would come round and give performances in the market
square. Their properties consisted of a sack which held four white
sheepskin dresses trimmed with gilt leather, four beards, wigs, and
crooks. The decoration of the theater was an old blanket hung on two
ropes. One can well imagine that their performances and the verses
of the comedies remained with him vividly when he was grown up. His
education was supposed to have been neglected because he never went
to a university. But if he made mistakes in his writings which a man
who had passed examinations would have avoided, he managed to obtain
a knowledge of men and life—a more important knowledge, which many a
ripe scholar might envy. At an early age he tried his hand at writing,
and at twenty-one his poems, on the death of the Queen of Spain, were
especially praised by his tutor.
Years were destined to pass before Cervantes settled down to any
literary work. I expect he knew he had the talent, but there was
very little chance for him to test it. He liked adventure and wanted
to be up and doing, so he seized the first opportunity he could of
gaining some experience of the world outside his own country. He went
to Rome and became a page in the household of an envoy of the Pope
whose acquaintance he had made in Madrid. But this did not suit him,
because the life of a page or chamberlain was intolerably slow and
uneventful. Bowing and scraping, entertaining and intriguing, was not
in his line at all. He resigned his post and enlisted as a soldier in
a Spanish regiment in Italy. Pope Pius V was organizing at that time a
Holy League against the Turks, whose great conquests were alarming the
States of Europe. But there was some difficulty in getting European
nations to agree to any plan for attacking Turkey. They were jealous
of one another and would not all act together. At last, after a long
delay, which was spent by Cervantes in Naples, the League, consisting
of the Pope, Venice, and Spain, was organized under the command of the
famous Don John of Austria, a brilliant general, who was half-brother
of King Philip II of Spain. The fleet of these three States was the
largest that had ever sailed under a Christian flag. It consisted of
galleys rowed by a large number of oarsmen, who were all criminals
under sentence. In the Turkish fleet the oarsmen were Christian slaves.
The object of the allies was to recover Cyprus from the Turks. But
before they could reach so far a great naval engagement took place in
the Gulf of Lepanto, at the entrance of the Gulf of Corinth. After some
hard fighting the allied fleets were victorious.
Miguel de Cervantes, though he was acting only as a common soldier,
behaved with conspicuous heroism. Weak with fever which he had caught
at Naples, he insisted, in spite of protests, on obtaining the command
of a dozen men, and stood with them in a position exposed to the
hottest fire of the enemy. From his ship he boarded one of the Turkish
galleys and received three gunshot wounds—two in the breast and one
shattering his left hand, which was maimed for the rest of his life.
His conduct won for him the applause of all his comrades, and he always
looked back on this episode as the most glorious in his career.
Twenty thousand Turks perished, and a hundred and seventy of their
galleys were captured in this memorable fight at Lepanto, which, if
it did not destroy, anyhow arrested the power of Turkey. A great
storm followed the victory, and Don John sailed away to Messina with
his wounded men, whom he landed there. Cervantes, whose wounds were
very severe, was among them. He received a special grant of money for
his distinguished service. But so eager was he to be at the front
again that it was not long before he had joined Don John in his
second attempt to overcome the Turkish fleet, which, however, was
unsuccessful.
A campaign in Africa followed and Tunis was captured, soon, however,
to be recaptured by the Turks, whose power remained unbroken. These
expeditions occupied nearly four years, and Cervantes went through the
experience of the hardships of war, the joy of victory, and the despair
of defeat. He was now a sick and maimed soldier who had witnessed
deeds of knightly valor, but had also known the wearisome delays, the
failures, and the disappointments of a soldier’s life.
Having been away for six years, he asked leave to return to his native
land. This was granted, and he left Naples in a galley called _El
Sol_ with letters from Don John to the King, in which he was strongly
recommended as “a man of valor, of merit, and of many signal services.”
But on the voyage a terrible calamity befell him, which was to be the
greatest of all his adventures and the severest of all his trials. Just
as he was rejoicing at the sight of the Spanish coast, a squadron of
corsairs, or pirates, under a redoubtable captain who was the terror of
the Mediterranean, bore down on _El Sol_. A desperate fight followed,
but the pirate galleys were too strong. A number of Spaniards were
captured, and Cervantes found himself carried off to Africa and placed
at the mercy of a savage Greek who was noted for his wild ferocity. As
letters were found on him from Don John of Austria, he was considered a
prize of considerable value, for whom a large ransom might be demanded.
Accordingly he was sent to Algiers heavily chained, and was treated
there with the greatest severity.
During his captivity, which lasted as long as five years, Cervantes
showed the most splendid courage; adversity, indeed, brought out the
finest qualities in his character. He persistently organized plans of
escape, the failure of one never deterring him from preparing another.
On the first occasion his project was defeated by a Moor, who was
engaged as a guide but deserted at the last moment, and the party
of fugitives were obliged to return to Algiers, where Cervantes was
severely punished. The next year a sum of money was sent over by his
parents, but was not sufficient for his ransom. His brother Rodrigo,
who was one of the prisoners, was, however, set free, and went home to
Spain with a request that a war vessel should be despatched to Algiers
to rescue the others. Cervantes in the meantime made all the necessary
arrangements for escape. He concealed about fifty of the Spanish
fugitives in a cave outside the town, and actually managed to have them
supplied with food for six months. It was a long time to wait, but at
last the day came when the ship was expected, and he and his comrades
were in readiness. But, as bad luck would have it, a traitor betrayed
them at the critical moment and their secret got out. A force of armed
Turks discovered and captured them. Cervantes immediately took upon
himself the whole blame and declared that he alone was responsible.
Though threatened with torture and even death, he refused to implicate
any one of his companions in the scheme of flight. The cruel Turkish
Governor, Hassan Pasha, before whom he was brought did not as a rule
hesitate to hang, impale, or mutilate his prisoners. But in this case
he appears to have been overawed by the astounding fearlessness of the
remarkable Spaniard who was brought before him.
While in captivity Cervantes addressed a rhymed letter to the King’s
secretary describing the sufferings of himself and his companions and
appealing for help from Spain. Although nothing came of this, the
undaunted hero set about devising a new plan of escape, which yet again
was destined to be frustrated. This time his messenger was caught and
ordered to be impaled, while he himself was condemned to receive two
thousand blows with a stick; this latter sentence, fortunately, was
never carried out. Notwithstanding repeated failure and the dangerous
risks he ran, Cervantes on the first opportunity hatched another plot.
Two merchants agreed to provide an armed vessel in which sixty of the
principal captives were to embark. A Spanish monk called Blanco de Paz,
who seems for some unknown motive to have conceived a deadly hatred for
Cervantes, revealed the scheme before it could be carried out. In spite
of this, however, the adventurous captive might easily have escaped
from the terrible life to which he was doomed had he consented to the
proposal of the merchants to go away alone. But he firmly refused to
abandon his companions in their distress, and in order that none of
his friends might suffer, he came forward once more and gave himself
up to the Governor. He was bound and led with a rope round his neck
before Hassan. As usual, he displayed no fear, although this time he
fully expected that he would be hanged or impaled, or at least have his
nose and ears cut off by the Governor’s orders. But for some mysterious
reason—probably the hope that a very high price would be offered for so
remarkable a man—nothing worse than five months’ close confinement in
chains was meted out to him. Hassan declared that so long as he had the
maimed Spaniard in safe keeping his Christians, ships, and city were
secure.
Meanwhile, in Spain more active steps were taken to collect sufficient
money for his ransom. His father had died, but his mother and sister
managed to raise a considerable sum, and money came in from other
sources. Messengers were despatched to Africa, and after a long dispute
over the bargain with the Turkish Pasha, Cervantes, who had actually
embarked on a ship bound for Constantinople, was at last set at liberty.
It is not from the boasting of Cervantes himself that we have the
particulars of his behavior during these five years of captivity.
Blanco de Paz circulated malicious reports about him, and this led
to an investigation. It is, therefore, on the authority of his
fellow-captives that the story comes down to us. They witnessed to his
good-temper and cheerfulness, for he had an overpowering sense of humor
which must have saved his companions from depression and despair; they
tell of his courage in danger, his resolution under suffering, his
patience in trouble, and his daring and cleverness in action.
Had he lived in the days of newspapers, the fame of his exploits would
have been proclaimed to all the world. He would have been petted and
spoilt as a hero, and all the empty flattery and cheap advertisement
which is heaped on any one in our day who appeals for the moment to
the popular imagination would have been loaded upon him without stint.
As it was, he arrived to find his family impoverished and in trouble,
his patron, Don John of Austria, dead, and no one to say a good word
for him in high quarters. He had been away ten years and was now only
thirty-three.
In 1580, the year of Cervantes’ return to his native land, Spain was
at the very height of her power. Philip II ruled not only over Spain
but over Portugal and the Netherlands: more than half Italy belonged to
him, as well as Oran and a considerable territory on the African shore
of the Mediterranean, and in addition all that was European in Southern
Asia. In the New World, from Chile to Florida, three-quarters of the
known continent came under his rule.