The history of Tycho Brahe has been admirably told by Dr. Dreyer, the accomplished astronomer who now directs the observatory at Armagh, though himself a countryman of Tycho.  Every student of the career of the great Dane must necessarily look on Dr. Dreyer’s work as the chief authority on the subject.  Tycho sprang from an illustrious stock.  His family had flourished for centuries, both in Sweden and in Denmark, where his descendants are to be met with at the present day.  The astronomer’s father was a privy councillor, and having filled important positions in the Danish government, he was ultimately promoted to be governor of Helsingborg Castle, where he spent the last years of his life.  His illustrious son Tycho was born in 1546, and was the second child and eldest boy in a family of ten.

It appears that Otto, the father of Tycho, had a brother named George, who was childless.  George, however, desired to adopt a boy on whom he could lavish his affection and to whom he could bequeath his wealth.  A somewhat singular arrangement was accordingly entered into by the brothers at the time when Otto was married.  It was agreed that the first son who might be born to Otto should be forthwith handed over by the parents to George to be reared and adopted by him.  In due time little Tycho appeared, and was immediately claimed by George in pursuance of the compact.  But it was not unnatural that the parental instinct, which had been dormant when the agreement was made, should here interpose.  Tycho’s father and mother receded from the bargain, and refused to part with their son.  George thought he was badly treated.  However, he took no violent steps until a year later, when a brother was born to Tycho.  The uncle then felt no scruple in asserting what he believed to be his rights by the simple process of stealing the first-born nephew, which the original bargain had promised him.  After a little time it would seem that the parents acquiesced in the loss, and thus it was in Uncle George’s home that the future astronomer passed his childhood.

When we read that Tycho was no more than thirteen years old at the time he entered the University of Copenhagen, it might be at first supposed that even in his boyish years he must have exhibited some of those remarkable talents with which he was afterwards to astonish the world.  Such an inference should not, however, be drawn.  The fact is that in those days it was customary for students to enter the universities at a much earlier age than is now the case.  Not, indeed, that the boys of thirteen knew more then than the boys of thirteen know now.  But the education imparted in the universities at that time was of a much more rudimentary kind than that which we understand by university education at present.  In illustration of this Dr. Dreyer tells us how, in the University of Wittenberg, one of the professors, in his opening address, was accustomed to point out that even the processes of multiplication and division in arithmetic might be learned by any student who possessed the necessary diligence.