As we have
already mentioned, he had never been strong from infancy, and he
finally succumbed to a fever in November, 1630, at the age of
fifty-nine. He was interred at St. Peter's Church at Ratisbon.
Though Kepler had not those personal characteristics which have made
his great predecessor, Tycho Brahe, such a romantic figure, yet a
picturesque element in Kepler's character is not wanting. It was,
however, of an intellectual kind. His imagination, as well as his
reasoning faculties, always worked together. He was incessantly
prompted by the most extraordinary speculations. The great majority
of them were in a high degree wild and chimerical, but every now and
then one of his fancies struck right to the heart of nature, and an
immortal truth was brought to light.
I remember visiting the observatory of one of our greatest modern
astronomers, and in a large desk he showed me a multitude of
photographs which he had attempted but which had not been successful,
and then he showed me the few and rare pictures which had succeeded,
and by which important truths had been revealed. With a felicity of
expression which I have often since thought of, he alluded to the
contents of the desk as the "chips." They were useless, but they
were necessary incidents in the truly successful work.
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