What Dreams May Come
WHAT DREAMS MAY COME. THE OVERTURE. Constantinople; the month of August; the early days of the century. It was the hour of the city's most perfect beauty. The sun was setting, and flung a mellowing glow over the great golden domes and minarets of the mosques, the bazaars glittering with trifles and precious with elements of Oriental luxury, the tortuous thoroughfares with their motley throng, the quiet streets with their latticed windows, and their atmosphere heavy with silence and mystery, the palaces whose cupolas and towers had watched over so many centuries of luxury and intrigue, pleasure and crime, the pavilions, groves, gardens, kiosks which swarmed with the luxuriance of tropical growth over the hills and valleys of a city so vast and so beautiful that it tired the brain and fatigued the senses. Scutari, purple and green and gold, blended in the dying light into exquisite harmony of color; Stamboul gathered deeper gloom under her overhanging balconies, behind which lay hidden the loveliest of her women; and in the deserted gardens of the Old Seraglio, beneath the heavy pall of the cypresses, memories of a
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
WHAT DREAMS MAY COME. THE OVERTURE. Constantinople; the month of August; the early days of the century. It was the hour of the city's most perfect beauty. The sun was setting, and flung a mellowing glow over the great golden domes and minarets of the mosques, the bazaars glittering with trifles and precious with elements of Oriental luxury, the tortuous thoroughfares with their motley throng, the quiet streets with their latticed windows, and their atmosphere heavy with silence and mystery, the palaces whose cupolas and towers had watched over so many centuries of luxury and intrigue, pleasure and crime, the pavilions, groves, gardens, kiosks which swarmed with the luxuriance of tropical growth over the hills and valleys of a city so vast and so beautiful that it tired the brain and fatigued the senses. Scutari, purple and green and gold, blended in the dying light into exquisite harmony of color; Stamboul gathered deeper gloom under her overhanging balconies, behind which lay hidden the loveliest of her women; and in the deserted gardens of the Old Seraglio, beneath the heavy pall of the cypresses, memories of a