The Sleepwalkers (136 page)

All
Europe
was
agog,
both
with
the
cosmological
and
astrological
significance
of
the
event.
The
new
star
had
appeared
only
about
three
months
after
the
massacre
of
French
protestants
on
St.
Bartholomew's
night;
no
wonder
that
in
the
flood
of
pamphlets
and
treatises
on
the
star,
it
was
mostly
regarded
as
a
sinister
omen.
The
German
painter,
George
Busch,
for
instance,
explained
that
it
was
really
a
comet
condensed
from
the
rising
vapours
of
human
sins,
which
had
been
set
afire
by
the
wrath
of
God.
It
created
a
kind
of
poisonous
dust
(rather
like
the
fall-out
from
a
Hydrogen
bomb)
which
was
drifting
down
on
people's
heads
and
caused
all
sorts
of
evil,
such
as
"bad
weather,
pestilence,
and
Frenchmen".
The
more
serious
astronomers,
with
few
exceptions,
tried
to
explain
the
star
away
from
the
eighth
sky
by
calling
it
a
tailless
comet,
ascribing
to
it
a
slow
motion,
and
using
other
subterfuges
which
made
Tycho
contemptuously
talk
of
O,
coecos
coeli
spectatores
–
oh,
blind
watchers
of
the
sky.

The
next
year,
he
published
his
first
book:
De
Nova
Stella
.

He
hesitated
some
time
before
publishing
it,
because
he
had
not
yet
quite
overcome
the
idea
that
the
writing
of
books
was
an
undignified
occupation
for
a
nobleman.
The
book
is
a
hodgepodge
of
tedious
prefatory
letters,
calendrical
and
meteorological
diaries,
astrological
predictions
and
versified
outpourings,
including
an
eight-page
"Elegy
to
Urania";
but
it
contained
in
twenty-seven
pages
an
exact
description
of
Tycho's
observations
of
the
New
Star,
and
of
the
instrument
with
which
the
observations
were
made
–
twenty-seven
pages
of
"hard,
obstinate
facts",
which
alone
would
suffice
to
establish
his
lasting
fame.

Five
years
later,
he
gave
Aristotelian
cosmology
the
coup
de
grâce,
by
proving
that
the
great
comet
of
1577
was
also
not
a
sublunary
phenomenon,
as
comets
had
previously
been
regarded,
but
must
be
"at
least
six
times"
as
far
in
space
as
the
moon.

About
the
physical
nature
of
the
new
star,
and
how
it
was
created,
Tycho
wisely
professed
ignorance.
Contemporary
astronomy
calls
"new
stars"
novae
,
and
explains
their
sudden
increase
in
brightness
by
an
explosive
process.
There
had
doubtless
been
other
novae
between
125
B.C.
and
A.D.
1572;
but
man's
new
consciousness
of
the
sky,
and
the
new
attitude
to
precise
observation,
gave
the
star
of
1572
a
special
significance:
the
explosion
which
caused
its
sudden
flaring
up
shattered
the
stable,
walled-in
universe
of
the
ancients.

3.
Sorcerer's Island

King
Frederick
II
of
Denmark,
whose
life
had
been
saved
by
Tycho's
foster-father,
the
late
Vice-Admiral,
was
a
patron
of
philosophy
and
the
arts.
When
Tycho
was
still
a
student
of
twentyfour,
the
King's
attention
had
been
called
to
the
brilliant
young
man,
and
he
had
promised
him,
as
a
sinecure,
the
prebend
from
the
first
canonry
to
become
vacant.
In
1575,
when
his
reputation
was
already
established,
Tycho,
who
loved
travelling
and
did
it
like
everything
else
in
the
grand
style,
made
a
tour
of
Europe,
visiting
friends,
mostly
astronomers,
in
Frankfurt
and
Basle,
Augsburg,
Wittemberg,
and
Venice,
among
them
the
Landgraf
Wilhelm
IV
in
Cassel.
The
Landgraf
was
more
than
an
aristocratic
dilettante.
He
had
built
himself
an
observatory
on
a
tower
in
Cassel,
and
was
so
devoted
to
astronomy
that,
when
told
that
his
house
was
on
fire
while
he
was
observing
the
new
star,
he
calmly
finished
his
observation
before
giving
his
attention
to
the
flames.

He
and
Tycho
got
on
so
well
that,
after
the
visit,
the
Landgraf
urged
King
Frederick
to
provide
Tycho
with
the
means
for
building
his
own
observatory.
When
Tycho
returned
to
Denmark,
Frederick
offered
him
various
castles
to
choose
from;
but
Tycho
declined
because
he
had
set
his
heart
on
taking
up
residence
in
Basle,
the
charming
and
civilized
old
town
which
had
captured
the
love
of
Erasmus,
Paracelsus,
and
other
illustrious
humanists.
Now
Frederick
became
really
eager
to
preserve
Tycho
for
Denmark,
and
in
February
'76,
sent
a
messenger
–
a
youth
of
noble
birth
with
orders
to
travel
day
and
night
–
bearing
a
royal
order
for
Tycho
to
come
and
see
the
King
at
once.
Tycho
obeyed,
and
the
King
made
him
an
offer
that
sounded
like
a
fairy
tale:
an
island
in
the
Sund
between
Copenhagen
and
Elsinor
Castle,
three
miles
in
length,
extending
over
two
thousand
acres
of
flat
tableland
rising
on
sheer
white
cliffs
out
of
the
sea.
Here
Tycho
should
build
his
house
and
observatory
at
Denmark's
expense,
and
in
addition
receive
an
annual
grant,
plus
various
sinecures,
which
would
make
his
income
one
of
the
highest
in
Denmark.
After
a
further
week's
hesitation,
Tycho
graciously
accepted
the
island
of
Hveen,
and
the
fortune
that
went
with
it.