The Sleepwalkers (143 page)

But
all
this
was
on
the
surface.
In
appearance,
it
was
a
meeting
of
two
crafty
scholars,
each
determined
to
make
use
of
the
other
for
his
own
purposes.
But
under
the
surface,
they
both
knew,
with
the
certainty
of
sleepwalkers,
that
they
were
born
to
complete
each
other;
that
it
was
the
gravity
of
fate
which
had
drawn
them
together.
Their
relationship
was
to
alternate
all
the
time
between
these
two
levels:
qua
sleepwalkers,
they
strolled
arm
in
arm
through
uncharted
spaces;
in
their
waking
contacts
they
brought
each
out
the
worst
in
the
other's
character,
as
if
by
mutual
induction.

Kepler's
arrival
led
to
a
reorganization
of
work
at
Benatek.
Previously,
Tycho's
younger
son,
Joergen,
had
been
in
charge
of
the
laboratory,
the
senior
assistant,
Longomontanus,
was
assigned
the
study
of
the
orbit
of
Mars,
and
Tycho
had
intended
to
put
Kepler
in
charge
of
the
next
planet
to
be
taken
up
for
systematic
observation.
But
his
eagerness,
and
the
fact
that
Longomontanus
got
stuck
with
Mars,
led
to
a
re-distribution
of
the
planetary
realm
among
the
Tychonites:
Kepler
was
given
Mars,
the
notoriously
most
difficult
planet,
while
Longomontanus
was
switched
to
the
moon.
This
decision
proved
of
momentous
importance.
Kepler,
proud
to
be
entrusted
with
Mars,
boasted
that
he
would
solve
the
problem
of
its
orbit
in
eight
days,
and
even
made
a
bet
with
this
deadline.
The
eight
days
grew
into
nearly
eight
years;
but
out
of
the
struggle
of
these
years
with
the
recalcitrant
planet
emerged
Kepler's
New
Astronomy
or
Physics
of
the
Skies
.

He
knew,
of
course,
nothing
of
what
lay
ahead
of
him.
He
had
come
to
Tycho
to
wrench
from
him
the
exact
figures
of
the
eccentricities
and
mean
distances,
in
order
to
improve
his
model
of
the
universe
built
around
the
five
solids
and
the
musical
harmonies.
But
though
he
never
discarded
his
idée
fixe,
it
was
now
relegated
into
the
background.
The
new
problems
which
arose
out
of
Tycho's
data
"took
such
a
hold
of
me
that
I
nearly
went
out
of
my
mind".
²
Himself
no
more
than
an
amateur
observer
with
the
coarsest
of
instruments,
an
armchair
astronomer
with
the
intuition
of
genius
but
still
lacking
in
intellectual
discipline,
he
was
overwhelmed
by
the
wealth
and
precision
of
Tycho's
observations,
and
only
now
began
to
realize
what
astronomy
really
meant.
The
hard
facts
embodied
in
Tycho's
data,
the
scrupulousness
of
Tycho's
method,
acted
like
a
grindstone
on
Kepler's
fantasy-prone
intellect.
But
although
Tycho
did
the
grinding,
and
the
process
seemed
to
be
more
painful
for
Kepler
than
for
him,
in
the
end
it
was
the
grindstone
which
was
worn
down,
while
the
blade
emerged
sharp
and
shining
from
it.

Soon
after his arrival in Benatek, Kepler wrote:

"Tycho
possesses
the
best
observations,
and
thus,
so-to-speak,
the
material
for
the
building
of
the
new
edifice;
he
also
has
collaborators
and
everything
he
could
wish
for.
He
only
lacks
the
architect
who
would
put
all
this
to
use
according
to
his
own
design.
For
although
he
has
a
happy
disposition
and
real
architectural
skill,
he
is
nevertheless
obstructed
in
his
progress
by
the
multitude
of
the
phenomena
and
by
the
fact
that
the
truth
is
deeply
hidden
in
them.
Now
old
age
is
creeping
upon
him,
enfeebling
his
spirit
and
his
forces."
³

There
could
be
no
doubt
regarding
the
identity
of
the
architect
in
Kepler's
mind.
Nor
was
it
difficult
for
Tycho
to
guess
Kepler's
true
opinion
of
him.
He
had
amassed
a
treasure
of
data
as
nobody
before
him;
but
he
was
old,
and
lacking
the
boldness
of
imagination
to
build,
out
of
this
wealth
of
raw
material,
the
new
model
of
the
universe.
Its
laws
were
there,
in
his
columns
of
figures,
but
"too
deeply
hidden"
in
them
for
him
to
decipher.
He
must
also
have
felt
that
only
Kepler
was
capable
of
succeeding
in
this
task
–
and
that
nothing
could
prevent
him
from
succeeding;
that
it
would
be
this
grotesque
upstart,
and
not
Tycho
himself,
nor
the
hoped-for
Tychonides
of
the
Uraniburg
mural,
who
would
reap
the
fruit
of
his
lifelong
labours.
Half
resigned
to,
half
appalled
by
his
own
fate,
he
wanted
at
least
to
make
it
as
difficult
for
Kepler
as
possible.
He
had
always
been
most
reluctant
to
disclose
his
treasured
observations;
if
Kepler
had
thought
he
could
simply
grab
them,
he
was
woefully
mistaken
–
as
the
indignant
complaints
in
his
letters
show: