Behind the Book: Chasing after Copernicus's Readers

Owen Gingerich's personal Copernican odyssey began in 1970, when he serendipitously discovered an original copy of De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium Libri Sex (literally, "About the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres in Six Books") in the library of the Royal Observatory in Edinburgh. Published in 1543, the Polish astronomer's masterwork described the heliocentric theory of the solar system, thereby launching the scientific revolution in Europe. Despite the book's historical significance, common scholarly opinion held that, because of its exhaustive technical detail, few people had ever read De Revolutionibus in its entirety—a position Arthur Koestler promoted in his best-selling 1959 science history, The Sleepwalkers. The copy that Gingerich unearthed had been owned by one of Copernicus's disciples and it contained a great wealth of marginal annotations. Gingerich wondered what an examination of additional original copies might reveal.

That flash of curiosity started the retired Harvard astrophysicist (he still holds an emeritus position as a history of science professor) on a quest to examine every extant first and second edition of the book. Over 30 years and across many thousands of miles, he has held over 600 copies of De Revolutionibus. He discovered not only that Copernicus's book was widely read but that the marginalia found in the various editions lend insight into how scientific information was communicated in the 16th century. In The Book Nobody Read: Chasing the Revolutions of Nicolaus Copernicus (reviewed on page 103), Gingerich chronicles the rigors of academic scholarship and the passions of book collecting through his own personal experiences.

LJ: De Revolutionibus is undeniably a classic of science, yet it has been called "the book that nobody read." Why?

OG: As a novelist, Arthur Koestler saw the world in terms of good guys and bad guys. He was dismayed that German schoolboys knew the name of Galileo but not Kepler, so he set out in The Sleepwalkers to redress the balance. Kepler was the good guy, and Copernicus and Galileo became unwitting anti-heroes. "The book that nobody read" and "an all time worst seller" was a wrong-headed attempt to put down Copernicus.

LJ: When you started your research, did you, too, believe that it was a largely unread book? Who, in fact, did read it?

OG: We thought that there were probably more readers of De Revolutionibus in the 20th century than in the 16th (which still seems entirely likely), and we could count the careful readers of the book on the fingers of two hands. That was wrong, as my investigation has shown. Even minor astronomers who took their work seriously tried to acquire the book, and the majority of large general libraries usually had it. A library with more than 1000 books was considered large in the 1500s. There were seven such libraries in England, and five of them had Copernicus's book.

LJ: You've personally examined some 600 original copies of the book. Did you set out with such a huge project in mind? What sustained you over 30 years of research?

OG: I could scarcely have imagined the magnitude of the chase when I started, but after a while it gained a momentum of its own. I enjoy traveling, and the quest certainly took me to a lot of interesting places, from magnificent libraries to castles and monasteries, behind the Iron Curtain, and to China and Australia. I didn't just look at Copernicus's book; for example, I've collated over 100 copies of one of the most fabulous typographic productions of the 16th century, Peter Apian's Astronomicum Caesareum. And I stumbled onto a block of manuscript horoscopes that enabled my wife and me to establish the typical age of students matriculating at Wittenberg around 1550 (about the same as at Harvard today, a fact not previously known).

LJ: What are some of the most unexpected places where you've located copies of the book?

OG: I would have to say the most unusual place was the first edition in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London—they have it because of its elaborate fake binding!

LJ: Do you think that more copies will be found?

OG: My Annotated Census of Copernicus's De Revolutionibus [published in 2002 by Brill Academic Publishers] describes 601 copies, including a few destroyed during World War II. Since that monograph was published, I have located seven more copies, but I don't think very many more will turn up.

LJ: You conclude that there existed an "Invisible College" of 16th-century scholars. Describe how it worked.

OG: I was surprised to learn that major annotations rarely come singly. Colleagues and students copied out the marginal notes, and in turn their students made further copies. This network stretched all across Europe; it was not just centered in one or a few universities.

LJ: Is there any more to be learned about De Revolutionibus and the scientific revolution that it started?

OG: There has already been one doctoral thesis (in Belgium) stimulated by some of the data in my census. I'm sure new insights will keep coming along. I think there is still much to be learned bibliographically about collecting and ownership patterns as well. But undertaking a complete survey of a major book is not a task to be undertaken lightly.