There is more. Beutelspacher the schoolmaster says that he also had a drink of you, and that it was this drink which caused his lameness. (What is this drink, in which you seem to have soused the entire town?) Bastian Meyer says you gave his wife a lotion, and after she had applied it she fell into a lingering illness amp; died. Christoph Frick the butcher says he suddenly felt pains in his thigh one day when he passed you by in the street. Daniel Schmid the tailor blames you for the death of his two children, because you would come into his house without cause, and whisper invocations in a strange language over the cradle. Schmid also claims that, when the children were ill, you taught his wife a prayer, to be uttered at full moon under the open sky in the churchyard, which would cure them, though they died all the same. And, wildest of all, I am told that you, Heinrich, have testifed that our mother had ridden a calf to death, and then wanted to prepare a roast from the carcase! What is going on? and yes, mother, something else: a gravedigger at Eltingen says that on a visit to your father's grave, you asked the fellow to dig up the skull, so that you could have it mounted in silver amp; presented to me as a drinking vessel. Can this be true? Have you gone mad? Heinrich, what do you know of these matters? I am beside myself with worry. Should I come to Swabia and investigate for myself, I wonder. The business is growing serious. Iprayyou, mother, keep to the house, speak to no one, and above all cease this doctoring amp; giving of potions. I am sending this letter directly to Herr Raspe, as I shall do with all letters in future, for I am told that previously, despite my directions, you have gone to Beutelspacher, of all people, to have my letters read. Have a care, now, I say, and pray for him who is
your loving son, Johann
(Herr Raspe: My thanks for these informations. What am I to do? They will burn her, sure as God! Enclosed, the usual fee.)
PragueNovember 1609
H. Röslin: at Buchsweiler in Alsace
Several thoughts occur to me, following your latest letter, but the majority of them I must keep to myself, for fear of angering you further. I am sorry to note the hostility of your reaction to my Antwort auff Röslini diseurs: believe me, my friend, it was not meant as an attack ad hominem. My tongue, I fear, has at times a rough amp; uncouth edge to it, especially when I am wrought, or even when I am only excited by the subject in hand, which last is the case on this occasion. I wished in my pamphlet to define as clearly as possible my attitude to astrology. I thought I had neither condemned nor condoned this science, of which you are such an ardent champion. Did I really say, in my last letter, that it was monkey shine? What comes over me, to say such things! Please, I apologise.I shall try here, as briefly amp; concisely as possible, to make amends and show you my true opinion in the matter.
In fact, you will be interested to hear that I am at this very time engaged in the composition of another Answer, this time to an attack upon astrologers! Feselius, physician-in-ordinary to the dedicatee of your own Diseurs, has produced a weighty attack upon the whole of astrology, which he altogether repudiates. Now, will it surprise you to know that I am about to weigh in, in my latest Antwort, with a defence against this broadside? For of course, contrary to what you seem to think, I do not hold all of that science to be worthless. Feselius, for instance, claims that the stars amp; planets were put up by God only as signs for determining time, and therefore astrologers, in scrying by the stars, impute a wrong intention to the Lord. Also he argues that Copernicus's theory is contrary to reason amp; to Holy Scripture. (I think, in this last, you agree with him? Forgive me, my friend, I can never resist a jibe.) All this, of course, is nonsense. Feselius is a foolish amp; pompous fellow, and I intend to dispatch him with a quick thrust of my sword. I mention him merely to show you that I am not wholly unsympathetic to your views.
I am interested in your contention that there is, behind the visible world, another world of magic which is hidden from us except in a few instances where we are allowed to witness magical actions at work. I cannot agree. Do you not see, Röslin, that the magic of, say, the so-called magic square is simply that numbers may be disposed in such a way as to produce wonderful configurations-but that this is the whole of it? No effects of this magic extend into the world. The real mystery amp; miracle is not that numbers have an effect upon things (which they do not!), but that they can express the nature of things; that the world, vast amp; various amp; seemingly ruled by chance, is amenable in its basic laws to the rigorous precision amp; order of mathematics.
It seems to me important that, not only is innate instinct excited by the heavens, but so also is the human intellect. The search for knowledge everywhere encounters geometrical relations in nature, which God, in creating the world, laid out from his own resources, so to speak. To enquire into nature, then, is to trace geometrical relationships. Since God, in his highest goodness, was not able to rest from his labours, he played with the characteristics of things, and copied himself in the world. Thus it is one of my thoughts, whether all of nature amp; all heavenly elegance is not symbolised in geometry. (I suppose this is the basis of all my belief.) And so, instinctively or thinkingly, the created imitates the Creator, the earth in making crystals, planets in arranging their leaves amp; blossoms, man in his creative activity. All this doing is like a child's play, without plan, without purpose, out of an inner impulse, out of simple joy. And the contemplating spirit finds amp; recognises itself again in that which it creates. Yes, yes, Röslin: all is play.
Vale Johannes Kepler
Prague
All Souls Day 1608
Dr Michael Mästlin: at Tübingen
I have your beautiful amp; affecting letter, for which much thanks, though I confess it has saddened me greatly. For a long time, though I wrote to you repeatedly, I heard not a word; now suddenly, as if you have been spurred to it by resentment amp; irritation, comes this strange valediction. Have I reached such a high step amp; distinguished position that I could, if I wished, look down on you"? Why, sir, what is this? You are my first teacher amp; patron, and, so I would like to think, my oldest friend. How would I look down on you, why should I wish to do so? You say my questions have been sometimes too subtle for your knowledge amp; gifts to comprehend: yet I am sure, magister, if there have been things you did not understand, the fault was mine, that my style of expression has been clumsy amp; unclear, or that my thoughts themselves were senseless. So you understand only your modest crap. On that score, I say only this: you understood the work of Copernicus at a time when others, whose names subsequently have made a great noise in the world, had not yet heard tell of the Ermlander or his theories. Come, my dear Doctor, no more of this, I will not have it!
Ah but yet, there is something in the tone of your letter which will not be gainsaid. The fault in this matter, I believe, is in my character. For it has always been thus with me, that I find it hard, despite all my efforts, to make friends, and when I do, I cannot keep them. When I meet those whom I feel I might love, I am like a little dog, with a wagging tail amp; lolling tongue, showing the whites of my eyes: yet sooner or later I am sure to flare up amp; growl. I am malicious, and bite people with my sarcasm. Why, I even like to gnaw hard, discarded things, bones amp; dry crusts of bread, and have always had a dog-like horror of baths, tinctures amp; lotions! How, then, may I expect people to love me for what I am, since what I am is so base?
Tycho the Dane I loved, in my way, though I think he never knew it-certainly I never attempted to tell him, so busy was I in trying to bite the hand, his hand, that was feeding me. He was a great man, whose name will last forever. Why could I not have told him that I recognised greatness in him? We fought from the start, and there was no peace between us, even on the day he died. True, he was eager for me to found my work upon his world system instead of on that of Copernicus, which was something I could not do: but could I not have dissembled, lied a little for his sake, soothed his fears? Of course, he was arrogant, and full of duplicity amp; malice, and treated me badly. But now I see that was his way, as mine is mine. And yet I cannot fool myself, I know that if he were to be resurrected and sent back to me now, there would be only the old squabbling. I am not expressing myself well. I am trying to explain how it is with me, that if I growl, it is only to guard what I hold precious, and that I would far rather wag my tail and be a friend to all.