By JOHN STOUGHTON, D.D.
(1473-1543)
[Illustration: Copernicus. [TN]]
The life of Nicholas Copernicus furnishes a signal example of the
accordance between profound religious sentiment and the utmost
inquisitiveness respecting the secrets of nature and the laws of the
universe.
The birthplace of genius is sometimes found nestled amid the fairest
scenes, and the opening years of life are favored with appeals to
curiosity and imagination, such as stimulate the exercise of the
intellect; but the lot of Copernicus, as a boy, was cast in one of the
flattest, tamest, and most uninteresting parts of Germany. Not far from
the banks of the Vistula, on the way to the free city of Dantzic, lies a
fortified town named Thorn, where the river is crossed by a wooden
bridge, and the place is adorned by a bronze statue of our
philosopher--for there he was born. His father was a merchant, and in
the municipal records his father's name appears as a freeman admitted to
the franchise in 1462. In 1472 or 1473 a son was added to the family,
and the parents had a horoscope taken of the child, who appeared at
thirty-eight minutes past four on January 19, 1472, according to some;
at forty-eight minutes past four in the afternoon of February 19, 1473,
according to others; the exact instant of the nativity being an
important point in astrological calculations, which, in those days,
inspired in fathers and mothers the deepest concern. At all events,
Copernicus was deemed to have entered the world under a lucky planet,
and it was augured that he would turn out a man of distinguished talent.
About ten years before Martin Luther studied at Mansfield, and then at
Eisenach, and rambled about the quaint streets, singing Christmas carols
in the town where he was born, Nicholas Copernicus passed through a
similar course of education. He did so under some old-fashioned
pedagogue, who no more dreamed of the scientific fame of his pupil than
did Trebonius of the approaching celebrity of young Master Martin.
Copernicus would there learn to read, to write, to construe Latin, and
to commit to memory hymns, prayers, and catechisms. Whether as a lad he
studied Greek is uncertain; but, as his parents seem to have been
wealthy, he would enjoy greater advantages than his still more
illustrious contemporary; hence at an early period he was sent to
Cracow, where he studied philosophy, mathematics, and medicine.
Mathematics formed his favorite pursuit, and by the thorough acquisition
of its principles and modes of reasoning he laid the basis of his
subsequent eminence. But he took a degree as doctor of medicine; and
according to the comprehensive methods of culture which obtained in
those days, he paid attention to painting, and made some proficiency as
an artist. Scholars were at that period accustomed to travel, and
Copernicus proceeded from Cracow to Bologna; and in that city of feudal
palaces and towers he would find a school of painting to cultivate his
artistic taste, as well as a university where he could study astronomy.
There he entered upon divers calculations connected with the position of
the earth and the plan of the heavenly bodies. Then proceeding to Rome,
he became there a mathematical professor, and won vast renown. Soon
after the commencement of the sixteenth century he returned to the banks
of the Vistula, and having been ordained to the priesthood, had a
canonry at Frauenburg, on the Frische-Haeff, bestowed upon him by his
uncle. The cathedral is described as a handsome building of brick,
erected in 1342, in an elevated part of the town, overlooking the flat
sandbanks of the Elbing, as it flows on its way to the Baltic. In
connection with his canonry, Copernicus had some contention about his
official rights, the nature of which does not appear. All we know is
that he settled down in that quiet, out-of-the-way corner of the world,
heedless of worldly ambition and indifferent to ecclesiastical honors
and emoluments. He was no sceptic, no free-thinker, nor do we find him
taking a part in the theological controversies of his age. No mention is
made of what he thought and did in relation to the grand quarrel between
Luther and Leo, or the Diet of Worms, or the burning of the bull at the
gates of Wittenberg, or the other stirring events of the Reformation;
only we know he remained a Catholic, a quiet, self-contained,
thoughtful, devout man, childlike in his religion, trustful in his
piety, and exemplary in the discharge of clerical duties. We can picture
him going through the usual routine of canonical services in Frauenburg
Cathedral, full of faith and prayer. With this vocation he coupled
medical practice. He turned to good charitable account that proficiency
in the healing art which he had acquired at Cracow, and visited the sick
and the poor, bringing upon himself the blessing of those who were ready
to perish. But the nature of his intellect, sharpened by studies at
Bologna and Rome, gave him special advantages in the pursuit of
astronomical knowledge; and as he had a decided taste in that direction,
what time he could spare from the cathedral and the treatment of the
sick he devoted to the study of the heavens. "He went very little into
the world; he considered all conversation as fruitless except that of a
serious and learned cast, so that he formed no intimacies except with
grave and learned men." Alone at midnight he would watch the stars; in
his study with his books he would inquire of the ancients; and then the
profound thoughts passing through his mind he would exchange with the
"grave and reverend seigniors" of his acquaintance.
The Ptolemaic hypothesis of the universe was then in fashion. It was
supposed that the earth was the centre of celestial motions, that the
sun, the moon, and the stars revolved around the world which we
inhabit. Not that the Pythagorean hypothesis was totally forgotten.
There were those who believed that the sun, not the earth, is the centre
of the great circle in which the heavenly bodies perform their
evolutions; but the Ptolemaic hypothesis had the ascendency beyond all
doubt; and with this hypothesis Copernicus could not rest satisfied. It
appeared to him beset with insuperable difficulties. True enough, the
rotation of the heavens around the earth seemed to be what the human eye
beheld, as anyone watched sunrise and sunset. But what the senses thus
presented, reason, in its ponderings, was led to contradict. For the
notion of a huge mechanism like the celestial sphere, spinning round the
terraqueous globe as its pivot looked unreasonable. To explain it in any
way on mathematical principles needed a most complicated array of cycles
and epicycles. Symmetry and simplicity were wanting in the theory. _A
priori_ objections started up against it. If the senses pointed to the
earth as a centre, reason pointed to a centre elsewhere. Copernicus
studied the works of ancient philosophers on the question. He examined
mathematical traditions and criticised the opinions of learned
professors. He found accounts of those who had asserted the motion of
the earth. "Though," he says, "it appeared an absurd opinion, yet, since
I knew that in former times liberty had been permitted to others to
figure as they pleased certain circles for the purpose of demonstrating
the phenomena of the stars, I considered that to me also it might be
easily allowed to try whether, by a supposition of the earth's motion, a
better explanation might be found of the revolution of the celestial
orbs. Having assumed," he goes on to say, "the motions of the earth, by
laborious and long observation I at length found that if the motions of
the other planets be compared with the revolution of the earth, not only
these phenomena follow from the suppositions, but also that the several
orbs and the whole system are so connected in order and magnitude, that
no one part can be transposed without disturbing the rest and
introducing confusion into the whole universe." What Copernicus was in
search of was some simple and symmetrical theory of the appearances of
the heavens which would relieve him of the complexity and confusion
attendant on the Ptolemaic system so popular in the schools. He started
from an _a priori_ point of reasoning--the only one thought of in his
day--but he came to certain conclusions which _a posteriori_ examination
in after times abundantly confirmed.
[Illustration: Copernicus.]
He believed that the earth is spherical; that the earth and the sea
constitute a wonderful globe; that the motions of the heavenly bodies
are circular and uniform, or compounded of circular and uniform motions;
that the earth revolves on its own axis, and also performs a journey
along its own orbit round the sun; that the sphere of the fixed stars is
immensely distant, and that it is impossible to explain the motion of
the planets upon the supposition of the earth being their centre. And he
distinctly remarks: "It does not shame us to confess that the whole
space in which the moon revolves, together with the earth, moves along a
great orbit among the planets, round the sun every year; that the sun
remains permanent and immovable, whatever may be its apparent motion."
It must be kept in mind throughout any careful study of his theory,
that it was an _hypothesis_ framed to remove difficulties connected with
older systems; that he sought to bring conceptions of the universe into
harmony with reason, instead of giving way to impressions made by the
senses, or to the authority of world-honored teachers, either in other
days or in his own; nor can we omit adding that, while he found fault
with the Ptolemaic cycles and epicycles, he constructed similar devices
of his own.
"As the real motions, both of the earth and the planets, are unequable,
it was requisite to have some mode of representing their inequalities;
and accordingly the ancient theory of excentrics and epicycles was
retained so far as was requisite for this purpose." In the case of
Mercury's orbit he makes suppositions which are extremely complex,
although they manifest his apprehension of the difficulties attendant on
the common theory of his own time; but he verified many of his views by
astronomical observations; and his approximations to modern science, and
the light he threw on preceding discoveries, establish the fame of
Nicholas Copernicus.
On a review of the life of Copernicus, and the conclusions he reached,
the mental and moral qualities of the man come out with conspicuous and
extraordinary lustre.
He was a mathematician, thus walking in the footsteps of Roger Bacon.
This science, since the days of Euclid, had been pursued with untiring
ardor, and many who neglected to study, or who, by their own
imagination, distorted the actual phenomena of nature, addicted
themselves to the investigation of the abstract properties of magnitude
and number. Copernicus, in his knowledge of mathematical principles, and
in his skilful application of them to astronomical inquiries, probably
surpassed all his contemporaries. And, at the same time, he had that
inventive genius which is fruitful in suggestions, such as become
pioneers in the path of scientific demonstration. His independence of
mind, his real originality, and his boldness in the pursuit of truth are
quite as remarkable as the qualities just noticed; indeed, they are
involved in or they led to the latter of these. "I beg you," says one of
his admiring disciples, "to have this opinion concerning that learned
man, my preceptor, that he was an ardent admirer and follower of
Ptolemy; but when he was compelled by phenomena and demonstration, he
thought he did well to aim at the same mark at which Ptolemy had aimed,
though with a bow and shaft very different from his." We must recollect
that Ptolemy says 'He who is to follow philosophy must be a freeman in
mind.' Copernicus knew very well that there were many prepared to
challenge his conclusions, and perhaps to bring theological objections
to the principles of science which he had been constrained to adopt.
"If, perchance," it is said in the preface to his book on astronomy,
"there be vain babblers who, knowing nothing of mathematics, yet assume
the right of judging, on account of some place of Scripture, perversely
wrested to their purpose, and who blame and attack my undertaking, I
heed them not, and look upon their judgments as rash and contemptible."
Copernicus had a profound reverence for Scripture. He regarded it as the
Word of God, able to make us wise unto salvation; and none of his
discoveries pertaining to the laws of nature shook for one moment his
confidence in the revelation of the gospel. Copernicus delayed for years
the publication of his discoveries to the world. That delay had been
thought to have proceeded from something like fear, or, at least,
caution, lest views in some respects so novel should rouse
ecclesiastical antagonism and expose him to serious persecution. But the
words used in the dedication of his astronomical work seem to point in
another direction. It is there said that he had kept it four times the
nine years recommended by Horace, and published it at last in compliance
with the entreaties of his friend, Cardinal Schomberg. "Though I know,"
it is added, "that the thoughts of a philosopher do not depend on the
judgment of the many, his study being to seek out truth in all things as
far as that is permitted by God to human reason, yet when I considered
how absurd that doctrine would appear, I long hesitated whether I should
publish my book, or whether it were not better to follow the example of
the Pythagoreans and others, who delivered their doctrines only by
tradition and to friends." From this passage we should infer that he
apprehended controversy rather than persecution, that for the former he
had no desire, that he was without ambition, and felt no wish to found a
new school, but would rather leave truths he had learned quietly to make
their way through the world.
The fame of Copernicus is now wide as the world. He painted a portrait
of himself which fell into the hands of Tycho Brahe; and he wrote an
epigram upon the subject, to the effect that the whole earth could not
contain the whole of the man who whirled it along the ocean of ether.
Less extravagant was the grateful enthusiasm of Rhiticus, a disciple of
Copernicus, when he wrote, "God has given to my excellent preceptor a
reign without end, which may He vouchsafe to guide, govern, and
increase, to the restoration of astronomical truth. Amen!"
"The Copernican system" is the name now generally given to the almost
universal scientific belief that the earth and the planets revolve
around the sun, though the system carried out and perfected by Kepler,
Newton, Halley, Laplace, and others is by no means perfectly identical
with the theory of the German astronomer. But the inextricable
interweaving of his name with opinions sanctioned by the entire
scientific world, is one of the noblest conceivable tributes to the
magnitude and lustre of his renown.
His death was in harmony with his life. Shortly before he expired he
repeated these words:
"Non parem Paulo gratiam requiro,
Veniam Petri neque posco; sed quam
In crucis ligno dederat latroni
Sedulus oro."
He had lived a life of Christian virtue--imitating his master, who went
about doing good, healing the sick and preaching the gospel to the
poor--yet, so far from having anything whereof to boast before God, he
said himself that he felt his need of infinite mercy, and in seeking
the pardon of his sins he would not place himself on a level with Paul
or Peter, but rather choose a point of self-humiliation by the side of
the penitent thief.
His work on the revolution of the celestial bodies was passing through
the press at the time of his fatal illness in 1543, when he had
completed his seventieth year and was brought to him just before he
breathed his last; and thus, as has been beautifully expressed, he was
"made to touch the first printed copy of his book when the sense of
touch was gone, seeing it only as a dim object through the deepening
dusk."
He is buried under a flat stone in one of the side aisles of his own
cathedral at Frauenburg. On his monument is painted a half-length
portrait, pale, thin, aged, but with an expression of countenance
intelligent and pleasant. His hair and eyes are black; he is habited as
a priest; his hands are joined in prayer; before him is a crucifix, at
his feet a skull, and behind him are a globe and a pair of compasses.
His devotion, his deadness to the world, and his love of science are
thus aptly symbolized.