A More Perfect Heaven

by Dava Sobel

  The name Rheticus, like that of Dantiscus, derived from a place instead of a person. Rheticus would have used his real surname if allowed to, but his family had been stripped of that privilege after his father, the physician Georg Iserin of Feldkirch, was beheaded for his crimes in 1528. Some accusers branded Iserin a sorcerer; others called him a thief who had come into their homes to give medical care but left with their valuables. Rheticus, fourteen at his father’s execution, first took his mother’s maiden name, de Porris, but later changed it to the more German-sounding von Lauchen, which meant the same thing: “of the leeks.” At the start of his university studies at Wittenberg in 1532, he acquired the toponym that tied him to his Alpine homeland of Rhaetia.

  Rheticus had begun school with an interest in medicine but displayed an uncanny aptitude for numbers. He quickly came under the wing of the renowned humanist scholar Philip Melanchthon, “the teacher of Germany” and also Luther’s trusted supervisor of university affairs. As Rheticus later reported, the fatherly Melanchthon pushed him toward the field of mathematics—to the study of arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy. In 1536, rather than lose Rheticus after conferring on him the master of arts degree, Melanchthon established a second mathematics professorship especially for him to fill. Rheticus, now twenty-two, marked his transformation from student to faculty member at Wittenberg with a public inaugural address. Feeling awkward at the center of such attention, he warned his audience that he was “shy by nature,” and most dearly cherished “those arts that love hiding-places, and do not earn applause among the crowds.” Nevertheless he acquitted himself admirably in his oration. “It is characteristic of the honorable mind,” he said, “to love nothing more ardently than truth, and, inspired by this desire, to seek a genuine science of universal nature, of religions, of the movements and effects of the heavens, of the causes of change, not only of animated bodies, but also of cities and realms, of the origins of noble duties and of other such things.” Mathematics, he avowed, united all these pursuits.

  NATAL CHART FOR RHETICUS

  The dire prospects suggested in this horoscope for Georg Joachim Rheticus caused his student Nicholas Gugler, who drew the chart, to recalculate the professor’s birth time and date. The true date of February 16, written in the margin, disagrees with the more favorable date in the diagram, February 15.

  In addition to their mutual regard, Rheticus and Melanchthon shared a devotion to astrology that did not include the dubious Luther. “Astrology is framed by the devil,” scoffed Luther at table one day, “for the star-peepers presage nothing that is good out of the planets.” As espoused by Melanchthon, however, astrology contained no taint of devil or magic. Its tenets were upheld by the text of Genesis, which told how God placed “lights in the firmament of the heaven” not only “to divide the day from the night,” but also to serve as “signs.”

  Rheticus had of course cast his own horoscope. His birth, in the very early hours of February 16, 1514, coincided with a conjunction of the Moon and Saturn in the twelfth house. There was no mistaking the ominous import of these conditions: They augured an abnormally short life span. As an adept astrologer, Rheticus knew several ways to rectify a bad chart. In one experiment, he technically escaped his fate by moving his birthday to the previous day, February 15, and changing the time from nine minutes before the second hour of the morning to 3:26 in the afternoon. These alterations divided Saturn from the Moon and moved them into separate houses, granting him a reprieve. But it seems unlikely that such fiddling would have rid Rheticus of the fear of impending doom. A sword, like the one that had severed his father’s head, hung menacingly over his own.

  Part Two

  Interplay

  You, who wish to study great and wonderful things, who wonder about the movement of the stars, must read these theorems about triangles. Knowing these ideas will open the door to all of astronomy.

  —JOHANNES MÜLLER, KNOWN AS REGIOMONTANUS (1436–1476),

  AUTHOR OF THE Epitome of Ptolemy’s Almagest AND On Triangles

  Then spake Joshua to the Lord in the day when the Lord delivered up the Amorites before the children of Israel, and he said in the sight of Israel, Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon; and thou, Moon, in the valley of Ajalon.

  And the Sun stood still, and the Moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies. Is not this written in the book of Jasher? So the Sun stood still in the midst of heaven, and hasted not to go down about a whole day.

  And there was no day like that before it or after it, that the Lord hearkened unto the voice of a man: for the Lord fought for Israel.

  —JOSHUA 10:12–14

  And The Sun Stood Stills

  A Play in Two Acts

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  COPERNICUS, age 65, physician and canon (church administrator) in Varmia, northern Poland

  BISHOP (of Varmia), age 53

  FRANZ, age 14, the Bishop’s acolyte

  RHETICUS, age 25, mathematician from Wittenberg

  ANNA, age 45, house keeper to Copernicus

  GIESE, age 58, Bishop of Kulm (another diocese in northern Poland) and canon of Varmia

  A native of Torun, Copernicus lived thirty years in Frauenburg, “the city of Our Lady,” in the shadow of its medieval cathedral. Frauenburg, the seat of the Varmia diocese, is the setting for the play.

  Act I

  Scene i. In the Bishop’s bedroom

  House Call

  The time is May 1539, in northern Poland, near a medieval cathedral ringed by fortified walls.

  Darkness. The sound of someone retching. Lights up on COPERNICUS, standing over the BISHOP, his patient, who sits on the edge of the bed in his richly appointed apartment, vomiting into a basin.

  FRANZ, the frightened young acolyte, hovers and helps as needed.

  BISHOP. Oh, God. Oh, Heaven help me.

  COPERNICUS. I think that was the last of it, Your Reverence.

  COPERNICUS takes the basin, but the BISHOP grabs it and vomits one more time, then collapses back onto his bed.

  BISHOP. Oh, Lord have mercy. Ohhh.

  COPERNICUS. Take this away, Franz. There’s a good lad.

  FRANZ bows, exits with the basin.

  The BISHOP writhes, groans.

  BISHOP. I thought I would surely die.

  COPERNICUS. The pain will subside, now that the emetic has rid your body of that toxin. You should be fine by tomorrow.

  BISHOP. “Toxin”?!

  COPERNICUS. It’s all gone now. You’ve expelled it.

  BISHOP. Poison?!

  COPERNICUS. No. No, a toxin is …

  BISHOP. Lutherans!

  COPERNICUS. Now, now.

  BISHOP. I’ve been poisoned. If you hadn’t come, I’d be dead.

  COPERNICUS. Not poison, Your Reverence. More likely something you ate.

  BISHOP. Of course it was something I ate. They put it in my food. How else would they get it into me?

  COPERNICUS. It could have been a bite of rotten fish.

  BISHOP. The kitchen staff! That shifty-eyed cook must be a Lutheran sympathizer.

  COPERNICUS. Just an ordinary bit of bad fish. Not poison.

  BISHOP. The Lutherans want to assassinate me.

  COPERNICUS. Or maybe too much eel. Your Reverence is extremely fond of eel.

  BISHOP. I should have known better. Banishing them from the province was not enough to eliminate the threat.

  COPERNICUS. Swallow this, Your Reverence. To settle your nerves and bring on sleep.

  BISHOP. Sleep?! How can I sleep when Lutheran dogs are stalking me?

  COPERNICUS. Sleep will be the best thing now.

  BISHOP. Worse than dogs. Vermin! Evil and dangerous. They simply ignore the law. They’re below the law. Here in our midst, waiting for the moment to strike. Oh, Nicholas, what if they try it again?! Suppose they make another attempt on my life, and you don’t get here in time? What if … ?

  COPERNICUS. Take this, please, Your Reverence.

/>   The BISHOP refuses the medicine, pushes COPERNICUS away.

  BISHOP. We must prosecute them more forcefully. Threaten offenders with harsher punishment. I won’t let them get me the way they got Bishop Ferber.

  COPERNICUS. Bishop Ferber?

  BISHOP. I see it all now.

  COPERNICUS. No one poisoned Bishop Ferber.

  BISHOP. They didn’t have to! He let them do as they pleased. They walked all over him. Until God Almighty intervened to smite him for not smiting them.

  COPERNICUS. Bishop Ferber died of syphilis.

  BISHOP. One of God’s favorite punishments.

  FRANZ returns, busies himself tidying the room.

  BISHOP. Aah! It’s done now. He’s in his grave, and may he rest in peace. But why did he have to leave the whole Lutheran mess in my hands?

  The BISHOP starts to get out of bed, but COPERNICUS restrains him.

  BISHOP. I must deal harshly with them. I cannot afford to show weakness.

  COPERNICUS succeeds in settling the BISHOP in bed.

  BISHOP. Oh, my heart. Franz! Bring me a glass of my Moldavian wine. And one for Doctor Copernicus.

  FRANZ exits.

  BISHOP. That wine is the better tonic. To strengthen me for the fight. I’ll issue a new edict. This time I’ll ban their books, too, so they can’t … Ban them and burn them. And their music is anathema.

  FRANZ returns with two filled glasses.

  BISHOP. No one may sing those hateful hymns any longer. On pain of … Aaahhh. Here’s our spirit.

  COPERNICUS takes a glass, puts the medicine in it, and hands it to the BISHOP, who drinks it.

  BISHOP. Agh! Curse that poison! It’s killed the taste of pleasure.

  COPERNICUS. (raising the other glass) To good health, Your Reverence.

  BISHOP. Amen.

  They both drink.

  COPERNICUS gives his glass to FRANZ, prepares to leave.

  BISHOP. Don’t hurry off, Nicholas.

  COPERNICUS. Sleep will be the best company now, and will soon arrive.

  BISHOP. Stay and have another glass. Your conversation is a comfort to me.

  At a signal from the BISHOP, FRANZ exits.

  COPERNICUS. I should go now.

  BISHOP. What’s your hurry?

  COPERNICUS. I must not keep Your Reverence from the sleep I have prescribed.

  BISHOP. Rushing home to your … manly duties?

  COPERNICUS. My … ?

  BISHOP. Don’t give me that innocent look. You know what I’m talking about. COPERNICUS. I don’t …

  BISHOP. Your harlot!

  COPERNICUS. You mean my … ?

  BISHOP. You know damn well who I mean.

  COPERNICUS. She’s not …

  BISHOP. You should get rid of her.

  COPERNICUS. But she …

  BISHOP. She’s not Lutheran, is she?

  COPERNICUS. No.

  BISHOP. Get rid of her anyway.

  FRANZ returns with more wine, pours.

  BISHOP. I’m serious, Nicholas. I want her out of your house. It looks bad. Keeping an unmarried woman like that.

  COPERNICUS. She cooks and cleans for me.

  BISHOP. She’s not even related to you. It’s unseemly.

  COPERNICUS. If I had a female relative who could …

  BISHOP. And much too good-looking.

  COPERNICUS. She’s done nothing wrong.

  BISHOP. Get yourself an old hag. Or a boy, to take care of your … needs. (drinks his second glass) Listen, Nicholas. For myself, I don’t care who’s in your bed. I understand a man’s appetites. God knows, I sowed my oats. Fathered a child or two, here and there, before … But it’s different now. With Luther and his devils screaming to high Heaven and Rome about Church abuses, a man in your position … A canon of this cathedral! You must appear above reproach.

  COPERNICUS. Yes, Your Reverence.

  BISHOP. (yawning) Go on home now. Tell her to find a new position. Someplace far away from here.

  COPERNICUS exits.

  Lights fade. A bell tolls the hour: 3 o’clock.

  SCENE ii. OUTSIDE COPERNICUS’s HOUSE

  STRANGER ARRIVES

  Minutes later, outside the cathedral wall, COPERNICUS walks home with a lantern. At the door of his house, he discovers RHETICUS lying on the ground. COPERNICUS jumps back, then bends down to examine him, checking his pulse, loosening his clothing.

  RHETICUS awakens with a cry, lashes out.

  RHETICUS. Ho! Get off me!

  COPERNICUS. Are you ill?

  RHETICUS. Get away from me! Thief !

  COPERNICUS. I was just trying to …

  RHETICUS. Thief !

  RHETICUS pounces on

  COPERNICUS; they scuffle.

  COPERNICUS. No! Oh!

  RHETICUS. What did you take?

  COPERNICUS. I didn’t … Oh!

  RHETICUS. Give it back!

  COPERNICUS. Don’t!

  RHETICUS. (pinning COPERNICUS to the ground) Give it back or I’ll strangle you.

  COPERNICUS. (choked, gasping) I’m a doctor.

  RHETICUS. What?

  COPERNICUS. I’m a doctor. I thought you were hurt. I was trying to help.

  RHETICUS releases COPERNICUS, then stands, pats his body to make sure he has his belongings, looks in his satchel.

  COPERNICUS tries to stand.

  RHETICUS. Don’t move.

  COPERNICUS. Who are you?

  RHETICUS. You scared me to death.

  COPERNICUS. I thought you were dead. I thought …

  RHETICUS. I was just waiting there, when you came along and …

  COPERNICUS. You were lying on the ground.

  RHETICUS. Right there. I was sitting right over there.

  COPERNICUS. (struggling to rise) Who are you?

  RHETICUS. I was waiting to see …

  COPERNICUS. Ow!

  RHETICUS. Are you hurt?

  COPERNICUS. My ankle. I think I …

  RHETICUS. You must have twisted it when you fell.

  COPERNICUS. (indicating RHETICUS’S satchel) Give me that, will you?

  COPERNICUS props the satchel under his foot, ties his handkerchief around his ankle.

  RHETICUS. I’m sorry I hurt you, Doctor. I didn’t know …

  COPERNICUS. What are you doing here?

  RHETICUS. I’m waiting for Canon Copernicus. This is his house, isn’t it?

  COPERNICUS. What do you want with him?

  RHETICUS. Is he sick? Is that why you’ve come?

  COPERNICUS. No, he’s not sick.

  RHETICUS. Thank God. Imagine if I’d come all this way, only to find the great canon, the starry canon, too sick to receive me.

  COPERNICUS. What did you call him?

  RHETICUS. Please forgive me, Doctor. I don’t normally get into fistfights. You may not believe this, but I’m a scholar by profession.

  COPERNICUS. You?

  RHETICUS. A mathematician.

  COPERNICUS. Really?

  RHETICUS. Professor of mathematics, in fact. (extending his hand) My name is RHETICUS, sir. Georg Joachim Rheticus.

  COPERNICUS starts to extend his own hand.

  RHETICUS. Of the mathematics faculty at Wittenberg.

  COPERNICUS. (withdrawing his hand) Wittenberg?!

  RHETICUS. You’ve heard of it, of course?

  COPERNICUS. You came here? From Wittenberg?

  RHETICUS. To tell you the truth, I was actually stopping at Nuremberg when I decided to come here.

  COPERNICUS. But Wittenberg is …

  RHETICUS. Nuremberg is even farther. It added another hundred miles to my journey.

  COPERNICUS. But it’s not safe.

  RHETICUS. Not safe to travel anywhere these days. Between the bandits and the dogs. And the rain! Twice in one day I was almost drowned fording rivers.

  COPERNICUS. From Wittenberg.

  RHETICUS. The canon will know its reputation …

  COPERNICUS. Indeed.

  RHETICUS. A
s a place where the study of mathematics has always flourished.

  COPERNICUS. (returning the satchel) Here, take this back.

  RHETICUS. Keep it, please. Use it as long as you like.

  COPERNICUS. (rising with difficulty) This is Poland, Professor. Catholic Poland.

  RHETICUS. I’m sure Canon Copernicus will welcome me, as a natural philosopher.

  COPERNICUS. He will do no such thing. He cannot.

  RHETICUS. We’ll see what he … Whoa, there, Doctor. Are you sure you can walk?

  COPERNICUS. (indicating the house) I don’t have far to go.

  RHETICUS. Here? But … You mean you are … ?

  COPERNICUS nods.

  RHETICUS. (kneeling) Oh, no. Oh, my God! Oh, please forgive me!

  COPERNICUS. Now, now. Don’t …

  RHETICUS. All the times I pictured our meeting, and to think … Dear Lord, how I’ve botched things!

  COPERNICUS. It’s all right. I’m fine. But you had better move on. This is no place for you.

  RHETICUS. If only you knew how I …

  COPERNICUS. Please, get up.

  RHETICUS. The whole way here, I rehearsed, over and over, what I would say when I met you.

  COPERNICUS. Say it, then. On your feet.

  RHETICUS. (rising) Canon Copernicus, I … Is that the right way to address you, sir? Or should I call you “Father”? Did you say you were a doctor?

  COPERNICUS. It doesn’t matter. Say your piece.

  RHETICUS. Begging your pardon, Canon sir. Doctor. I have letters here from … (fishing in his satchel) Letters of introduction from …

  COPERNICUS. Don’t bother with that.

  RHETICUS. Here they are, sir. From Schöner in Nuremberg. And another one here from Hartmann, and also Peter Apian, and …

  COPERNICUS. Did you say, from Schöner?

  RHETICUS. Yes, sir. (handing him the letter) Here, see for yourself. He was gracious enough to let me stay several weeks with him, in his home. This one is from Camerarius, in Tubingen. He tried to convince me not to look for you. He said you must be dead by now. Excuse me, sir. I meant no offense. It’s just that no one has heard from you in so long. They’re all waiting. They wonder why you’ve kept silent all this time.

  COPERNICUS finishes reading the letter.