Copernicus’s
cosmos
Oh heavens,
no
How one man
took on the church
A More
Perfect Heaven: How Copernicus Revolutionised the Cosmos. By Dava
Sobel. Walker
& Company; 272 pages; $25. Bloomsbury; £14.99 .
Buy from
Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk
THE common
rule in biography is that the more important the subject, the heavier
the
tome—with both pages and piety. Dava Sobel flouts this convention.
Famous for
her delightfully quirky books on the history of science, starting with
the 1995
bestseller, “Longitude”, she delivers here a refreshingly fast-paced
and breezy
account of the life of Nicolaus Copernicus, the Polish cleric who
knocked the
Earth from its perch at the centre of the solar system and put the sun
in its
Ever since
Claudius Ptolemy published the “Almagest” in the second century AD,
almost all astronomers
had believed that the Earth lay at the centre of the universe. The sun,
the
planets and the stars supposedly revolved around it once a day. It was
a faith
reinforced by common sense, a reverence for the wisdom of antiquity,
and its
resonance with Christian mythology. Geocentrism fit with several
passages in
the Bible, and with the church’s view of the world more generally,
which held
that the Earth, as the abode of God’s greatest creation, sat at the
centre of
everything. Ptolemy’s model was complex, with planetary orbits modified
by
smaller orbits (called epicycles), but it fit with observations, and
could even
be used to predict what the night sky would look like at an arbitrary
date in
the future.
It is not
known when the idea of a sun-centred cosmology came to Copernicus. He
was not
the first to dream it up: Aristarchus of Samos, a Greek astronomer,
proposed
something similar around 250BC, although no details of his system
survive.
Copernicus’s first speculations on the subject appear in a 40-page
booklet
printed before 1514, which he circulated to some friends and
colleagues.
Although he continued to refine the theory, he was reluctant to
publish, either
because he feared ridicule for such an outlandish suggestion, or
because he
worried about a reaction from the church. Indeed the church would
imprison
Galileo Galilei, an Italian astronomer, for advocating the sun-centred
model of
the universe a century later.
But
Copernicus did eventually publish his celestial theory at the end of
his life.
One person seems to have been instrumental in persuading him to go
ahead, a
scholar called Rheticus, or Georg Joachim von Lauchen, a young
mathematician
who arrived on Copernicus’s doorstep in 1539 and spent two years as his
pupil.
In her
introduction, Ms Sobel writes that she has long been fascinated by this
meeting. She uses the book to imagine what took place between the two
men,
presenting it in the form of a play. The scarcity of surviving evidence
gives
Ms Sobel some poetic latitude. Readers are treated to a demonstration
of an
arcane machine, subplots involving pederasty and concubinage, and a
conspiracy
to hide Rheticus’s presence (he was a Lutheran) from the Catholic
bishop of
Varmia. Rheticus ultimately overcomes his own doubts about Copernicus’s
theory
and manages to persuade his host to commit his ideas to paper.
“A More
Perfect Heaven” does a good job of giving the flavour of life in
Reformation-era Europe, at least among its intellectual elite. But
there is
strangely little discussion of the intellectual underpinnings of
Copernicus’s
system of the world, and of the meticulous observations that eventually
convinced him that Ptolemy was wrong. It was a giant leap suddenly to
argue
that the Earth orbits the sun, rather than the other way around,
particularly
without telescopes. Imagine trying to deduce this with the naked eye, a
sextant
and little else. Then imagine the difficulties of defending it against
the
obvious criticisms in an era before mathematically rigorous physics:
why are we
not flung from the Earth if it spins round so fast? Why are there not
hurricane-force winds? That Ms Sobel overlooks these questions is a
shame,
since it rather undervalues an immense intellectual achievement and
leaves a
noticeable hole in an otherwise excellent book.