The Dream: a journey to the Moon

Cum anno 1608. ferverent dissidia inter fratres Imp. Rudolphum et Matthiam Archiducem; eorumque actiones vulgo ad exempla referrent, ex historia Bohemica petita; ego publica vulgi curiositate excitus, ad Bohemica legenda animum appuli. Cumque incidissem in historiam Libussæ Viraginis, arte Magica celebratissimæ: factum quadam nocte, ut post contemplationem siderum et Lunæ, lecto compositus, altius obdormiscerem: atque mihi per somnum visus sum librum ex Nundinis allatum perlegere, cuius hic erat tenor.

When in the year 1608 quarrels were boiling between the brothers, Emperor Rudolf and Archduke Matthias, and people commonly referred their actions to examples sought from Bohemian history, I, stirred by the public curiosity of the crowd, turned my mind to reading Bohemian [tales]. And when I had come upon the history of the heroine Libussa, most famous for the magic art, it happened one night that, after contemplating the stars and the Moon, having laid myself in bed, I fell rather deeply asleep; and in my sleep I seemed to read through a book brought from the fair [Nundinae], of which this was the drift.

In the year 1608 a quarrel was raging between two brothers, the emperor Rudolf and the archduke Matthias.1 People commonly compared their actions to examples from Bohemian history. Caught up in the public curiosity, I set my mind to reading Bohemian tales. I came upon the story of the heroine Libussa, who was famous for her magic art.2 One night, after watching the stars and the Moon, I went to bed and fell into a deep sleep. In my sleep I seemed to be reading a book brought from the fair.3 This is what it said.

1. Rudolf II, Holy Roman Emperor, who kept his court at Prague. In 1608 he was forced to give up Hungary, Austria, and Moravia to his brother Matthias and to promise him Bohemia.
2. Libuše, a legendary figure of early Bohemia. Legend credits her and her husband, Přemysl, with founding Prague.
3. The book fair at Frankfurt, where printers and booksellers from across Europe traded new books. The dream’s last lines name Frankfurt.

Mihi Duracoto nomen est, patria Islandia, quam veteres Thulen dixêre: mater erat Fiolxhildis, quæ nuper mortua, scribendi mihi peperit licentiam, cujus rei cupiditate pridem arsi. Dum viveret, hoc diligenter egit, ne scriberem. Dicebat enim, multos esse perniciosos osores artium, qui quod præ hebetudine mentis non capiunt, id calumnientur: legesque figant injuriosas humano generi; quibus sanè legibus non pauci damnati, Heclæ voraginibus fuerint absorpti. Quod nomen esset patri meo, ipsa nunquam dixit, piscatorem fuisse, et centum quinquaginta annorum senem, decessisse perhibebat, me tertium ætatis annum agente, cùm ille septuagesimum plus minus annum in suo vixisset matrimonio.

My name is Duracotus, my homeland Iceland, which the ancients called Thule. My mother was Fiolxhilde, whose recent death gave me leave to write, a thing I had long burned with desire to do. While she lived, she took care that I should not write. For she said that there are many pernicious haters of the arts, who slander what they do not grasp through dullness of mind, and fix laws injurious to the human race; condemned by which laws not a few have been swallowed up in the chasms of Hekla. What my father’s name was she herself never said; she declared he had been a fisherman and had died an old man of a hundred and fifty years, when I was in the third year of my age, when he had lived seventy years, more or less, in his marriage.

My name is Duracotus. My homeland is Iceland, which the ancients called Thule. My mother was Fiolxhilde. Her recent death has set me free to write, as I have long burned to do. While she lived, she took great care that I should not write. She said there are many dangerous people who hate the arts. What they are too dull to understand, they slander, and they make laws that harm the human race. Under those laws, not a few people have been condemned and swallowed up in the chasms of Hekla.4 She never told me my father’s name. She said he was a fisherman and died an old man of a hundred and fifty, when I was in my third year. He had been married for about seventy years.

4. A volcano in Iceland. Many in Kepler’s time believed that Hekla was an entrance to purgatory.

Primis pueritiæ annis mater me manu trahens, interdumque humeris sublevans, crebrò adducere est solita in humiliora juga, montis Heclæ, præsertim circa festum divi Joannis, quando Sol totis 24. horis conspicuus, nocti nullum relinquit locum. Ipsa herbas nonnullas legens multis cæremoniis, domique coquens, sacculos factitabat ex pellibus caprinis, quos inflatos ad vicinum portum venum importans pro Navium patronis, victum hoc pacto sustentabat.

In the first years of my boyhood my mother, leading me by the hand and sometimes lifting me on her shoulders, used often to take me up into the lower ridges of Mount Hekla, especially around the feast of Saint John, when the Sun, visible for all 24 hours, leaves no room for night. She herself, gathering certain herbs with many ceremonies and cooking them at home, used to make little bags out of goatskins, which, blown up, she carried to the nearby port for sale to the ship masters, and in this way kept herself alive.

When I was small, my mother often took me up the lower slopes of Mount Hekla, leading me by the hand and sometimes carrying me on her shoulders. She went especially around the feast of Saint John,5 when the Sun can be seen for all twenty-four hours and leaves no room for night. She gathered certain herbs with many ceremonies and cooked them at home. Then she made little bags of goatskin, blew them up, and took them to the nearby port to sell to ship captains.6 That was how she made her living.

5. The feast of Saint John the Baptist, June 24, near midsummer. Kepler’s notes place Iceland under the Arctic Circle; in fact it lies just below it.
6. Kepler’s notes repeat a well-worn story that ship captains sailing from Iceland could raise whatever wind they wanted by opening a wind bag.

Cùm aliquando per curiositatem rescisso sacculo, quem mater ignara vendebat, herbisque et linteis, quæ acu picta, varios præferebant characteres, explicatis, ipsam hoc lucello fraudassem: mater irâ succensa, me loco sacculi Nauclero proprium addixit, ut ipsa pecuniam retineret. Atque is postridiè ex insperato solvens è portu, secundo vento quasi Bergas Nordwegiæ tendebat. Post aliquot dies Boreâ surgente, inter Nordwegiam et Angliam delatus, Daniam petijt, fretumque emensus, cùm haberet literas Episcopi Islandici, tradendas Tychoni Brahe Dano; qui in Insula Wena habitabat, ego verò vehementer ægrotarem ex jactatione et auræ tepore insueto, quippè quatuordecim aunorum adolescens; navi ad littus appulsa me apud piscatorem insulanum exposuit cum literis; et spe reditus factâ, solvit.

When once, out of curiosity, I had cut open a bag which my mother, unaware, was selling, and had unfolded the herbs and linen cloths, which, worked with the needle, bore various characters, [and so] had cheated her of this small profit, my mother, inflamed with anger, made me over to the ship’s master as his own in place of the bag, so that she might keep the money. And he, the next day, setting sail unexpectedly from the port with a favorable wind, was heading as if for Bergen in Norway. After some days, the north wind rising, carried between Norway and England, he made for Denmark, and having crossed the strait, since he had letters of the bishop of Iceland to be delivered to Tycho Brahe the Dane, who lived on the island of Hven, and I was violently sick from the tossing and the unaccustomed warmth of the air, being a youth of fourteen years, when the ship was brought to shore he set me down with a fisherman of the island, with the letters, and, giving hope of [his] return, sailed off.

Once, out of curiosity, I cut open a bag that my mother was selling without knowing it. I unfolded the herbs and the linen cloths inside, which were embroidered with various characters. So I cheated her of this small profit. My mother flared up in anger. She gave me to the ship’s master as his own, in place of the bag, so that she could keep the money. The next day he set sail unexpectedly with a fair wind, heading, it seemed, for Bergen in Norway. After some days a north wind rose and drove him between Norway and England. He made for Denmark and crossed the strait. He had letters from the bishop of Iceland for Tycho Brahe the Dane, who lived on the island of Hven.7 I was violently sick from the tossing and from the air, warmer than I was used to, for I was a boy of fourteen. So when the ship came to shore, he left me with a fisherman of the island, along with the letters. He promised to come back and sailed away.

7. Tycho Brahe (1546–1601), Danish astronomer. The king of Denmark gave him Hven (Kepler’s Wena), an island in the Øresund strait, where he built his observatory, Uraniborg, in 1576–80.

Literis traditis Braheus valdè exhilaratus, cepit ex me multa quærere; quæ ego linguæ imperitus non intellexi, paucis verbis exceptis. Itaque negocium suis dedit Studiosis, quos magno numero alebat, uti mecum crebrò loquerentur, factumque liberalitate Brahei, et paucarum septimanarum exercitio, ut mediocriter Danicè loquerer. Nec minùs ego promptus in narrando, quàm illi erant in quærendo. Multa quippè insueta mirabar, multa mirantibus ex mea patriâ nova recensebam.

When the letters were delivered, Brahe, greatly cheered, began to ask me many things, which I, ignorant of the language, did not understand, a few words excepted. So he gave the task to his students, whom he kept in great number, to talk with me often; and it came about, by the generosity of Brahe and a few weeks’ practice, that I spoke Danish passably. Nor was I less ready in telling than they were in asking. For I marveled at many unfamiliar things, and to them marveling I recounted many new things from my homeland.

Brahe was delighted with the letters and began to ask me many questions. I did not know the language and understood only a few words. So he told his students, whom he kept in great numbers, to talk with me often. Thanks to Brahe’s generosity and a few weeks’ practice, I came to speak Danish fairly well. I was as ready to tell as they were to ask. I marveled at many strange things, and they marveled at the news I told them of my homeland.

Denique reversus navis magister, meque repetens, repulsam tulit, valdè me gaudente.

At last the master of the ship, having returned and asking for me back, suffered a refusal, I rejoicing greatly.

At last the ship’s master came back and asked for me, but he was turned away, to my great joy.

Mirum in modum mihi arridebant Astronomica exercitia; quippè Studiosi et Braheus, mirabilibus machinis totis noctibus intendebant Lunæ sideribusque, quæ me res admonebat matris, quippè et ipsa assiduè cum Luna solita erat colloqui.

Wonderfully the astronomical exercises pleased me; for the students and Brahe with wonderful machines attended whole nights to the Moon and the stars, which thing reminded me of my mother, since she too used constantly to converse with the Moon.

The work of astronomy pleased me wonderfully. Brahe and his students spent whole nights watching the Moon and the stars with wonderful instruments. This reminded me of my mother, for she, too, used to talk with the Moon all the time.

Hac igitur occasione ego patria semibarbarus, conditione egentissimus, in divinissimæ scientiæ cognitionem veni: quæ mihi ad majora viam paravit.

On this occasion, then, I, half-barbarous by homeland, most needy in condition, came to the knowledge of a most divine science, which prepared for me the way to greater things.

In this way I, half a barbarian by birth and very poor, came to know the most divine of sciences. It opened the way for me to greater things.

Etenim exactis annis aliquot in hac Insula, tandem me cupiditas incessit revisendæ patriæ; rebar enim non grave mihi futurum ob acquisitam scientiam; emergere ad aliquam in mea gente rudi dignitatem. Salutato igitur patrono, et veniâ discessus impetratâ, veni Hafniam; nactusque socios itineris, qui me ob linguæ et regionis cognitionem libenter in suum patrocinium susceperunt: redij in patriam, quinto postquam excesseram anno.

For after some years spent on this island, at last a desire came over me of seeing my homeland again; for I thought it would not be hard for me, because of the knowledge acquired, to rise to some dignity among my rough people. So, having taken leave of my patron and obtained permission to depart, I came to Hafnia [Copenhagen]; and having found companions for the journey, who gladly took me under their protection for my knowledge of the language and the region, I returned to my homeland in the fifth year after I had left.

After some years on this island, I began to long to see my homeland again. I thought that with the knowledge I had gained, it would not be hard to rise to some high place among my rough people. So I said goodbye to my patron, got his leave to go, and came to Hafnia [Copenhagen]. There I found traveling companions, who gladly took me under their protection because I knew the language and the country. I came home in the fifth year after I had left.

Prima mei reditus felicitas erat, quod matrem inveni adhuc spirantem, et eadem, quæ olim, factitantem; finemque ei pœnitudinis diuturnæ, ob amissum temeritate filium, vivus et ornatus attuli. Vergebat tunc annus in Autumnum, succedebantque deinceps noctes illæ nostræ longæ, quippè Natalitio Christi mense Sol in Meridie vix parum emergens, è vestigio rursum conditur. Ita Mater per hanc vacationem à suis operis, mihi adhærere, à me non discedere, quocunque me cum commendatitijs literis recepissem; percontari jam de Terris, quas adijssem, jam de Cœlo, quam scientiam me didicisse vehementissimè gaudebat; comparare quæ ipsa habebat comperta, cum meis narratis, exclamare jam se promptam esse ad moriendum, ut quæ scientiæ suæ, quam solam possideret, filium hæredem sit relictura.

The first happiness of my return was that I found my mother still breathing and doing the same things as before; and I brought an end to her long repentance for a son lost through her rashness, [coming back] alive and honored. The year was then turning toward autumn, and there followed then those long nights of ours, since in the month of Christ’s birth the Sun, rising barely a little at midday, at once hides again. So my mother, in this rest from her work, clung to me, did not leave me wherever I took myself with my letters of recommendation; asked now about the lands I had visited, now about the sky, a science she rejoiced most vehemently that I had learned; compared what she herself had found out with my accounts; exclaimed that she was now ready to die, since she would leave her son heir to her knowledge, which was all she possessed.

The first happiness of my return was to find my mother still alive and doing the same things as before. She had long regretted that her rashness had cost her a son, and I ended her regret by coming home alive and honored. The year was turning toward autumn, and our long nights were coming on. In the month of Christ’s birth, the Sun barely rises at noon before it sets again. Free from her work in this slack season, my mother clung to me. Wherever I went with my letters of recommendation, she did not leave my side. She asked me now about the lands I had visited, now about the heavens. She was overjoyed that I had learned that science. She compared what she herself had discovered with what I told her. She cried out that she was ready to die now, for she would leave her son heir to her knowledge, the only thing she owned.

Ego naturâ cupidissimus perdiscendi nova, quæsivi vicissim ex ipsa, de suis artibus, et quos earum habuisset magistros in gente tantùm à cæteris diremta. Tunc illa quodam die, spacio ad loquendum sumpto, rem omnem à primis initiis repetijt, in hunc ferè modum? Prospectum est Duracote fili, non cæteris solùm provinciis, in quas venisti, sed nostræ etiam patriæ. Etsi enim nos urgent frigora et tenebræ, aliaque incommoda, quæ nunc demùm sentio, postquam ex te felicitatem intellexi regionum cæterarum: at nos ingenijs abundamus, nobis præstò sunt sapientissimi spiritus, qui tantam lucem regionum cæterarum, strepitumque hominum perosi, nostras appetunt umbras, et nobiscum familiariter conversantur. Sunt ex iis præcipui Novem, ex quibus unus mihi peculiariter notus, et vel maximè omnium mitis atque innoxius viginti et uno characteribus evocatur. Cujus ope non rarò momento temporis in alias oras, quas ipsi dixero, transportor, aut si ab aliquibus longinquitate absterreor, quærendo de iis, tantùm proficio, quantum si præsens ibi essem: qui pleraque eorum, quæ tu vel oculis notasti, vel fando accepisti, vel ex libris hausisti, eodem quo tu modo, mihi recensuit.

I, by nature most eager to learn new things, asked her in turn about her arts, and what teachers of them she had had among a people so far cut off from the others. Then she one day, having taken time for speaking, went over the whole matter from its first beginnings, in about this manner: “Provision has been made, Duracotus my son, not only for the other countries to which you have gone, but for our homeland too. For although cold and darkness and other discomforts press on us, which I only now feel, after I have learned from you the happiness of the other countries, yet we abound in wits; at hand for us are most wise spirits, who, hating the great light of the other countries and the din of men, seek our shadows and converse with us familiarly. Of these there are nine chief ones, of whom one, particularly known to me, and the very mildest and most harmless of all, is called up by twenty-one characters. By his help I am not rarely carried in a moment of time to other shores which I name; or if I am deterred from some by their distance, by asking about them I gain as much as if I were present there. He has recounted to me most of the things which you have noted with your eyes, or taken in by hearsay, or drawn from books, in the same way as you.

I am curious by nature and eager to learn new things. So I asked her in turn about her arts, and who had taught them to her among a people so cut off from the rest. Then one day she took time to talk and went over the whole thing from the beginning, more or less like this. “Duracotus, my son, it is not only the other countries you have visited that are well provided for, but our homeland too. We are pressed by cold and darkness and other hardships. I feel them only now that you have told me how happy other countries are. Yet we have clever minds in plenty. We have the wisest spirits at our service. They hate the bright light of other countries and the noise of people, so they seek out our shadows and talk with us as friends.8 Nine of them are chief. One of these I know especially well. He is the gentlest and most harmless of all, and he is called up by twenty-one characters.9 With his help I am often carried in an instant to other shores that I name. If some are so far away that I shrink from going, I learn as much by asking about them as if I were there. He has told me most of what you saw with your own eyes, heard from others, or read in books, just as you have told me.

8. Kepler’s notes say that writers held magic to be common among northern peoples, and that spirits of darkness were thought to lie in wait during the long northern nights.
9. Kepler’s later notes say the twenty-one characters are the letters of Astronomia Copernicana, “Copernican astronomy.”

Imprimis ejus, de qua toties mihi dixit, regionis, te velim spectatorem fieri, me comite: valdè enim mira sunt, quæ de ea narrat. Levaniam indigitavit.

Above all I would wish you to become a spectator, with me as companion, of that region of which he has so often spoken to me; for very wonderful are the things he tells about it.” She named it Levania.

Above all, I would like you to come with me and see the region he has told me about so often, for the things he tells of it are truly wonderful.” The region is called Levania.10

10. From the Hebrew levanah, “the Moon,” as Kepler explains in his notes.

Nec mora consentio, ut Magistrum illa suum accersat, et consideo, paratus ad audiendam totam et itineris rationem, et regionis descriptionem. Tempus jam erat vernum, Lunâ crescente in cornua, quæ ut primum Sole sub Horizontem condito cepit enitere, juncta Planetæ Saturno in Tauri signo; mater seorsim à me se recipiens in proximum bivium, et pauculis verbis, clamore sublato, enunciatis, quibus petitionem suam proponebat; cæremoniisque peractis, revertitur, prætensâ dextræ manus palmâ silentium imperans, propterque me assidet. Vix capita vestibus (ut conventum erat) involveramus; cum ecce screatus exoritur blæsæ et obtusæ vocis; et statim in hunc modum, sed idiomate Islandico, infit.

Without delay I agree that she should summon her Master, and I sit down, ready to hear the whole account both of the journey and the description of the region. It was now springtime, the Moon waxing into horns, which, as soon as the Sun was hidden below the horizon, began to shine forth, joined to the planet Saturn in the sign of Taurus; my mother, withdrawing apart from me to the nearest crossroads, and having uttered a few words with a raised cry, by which she put forward her request, and having performed ceremonies, comes back, commanding silence with the palm of her right hand stretched out, and sits down beside me. Scarcely had we wrapped our heads in our clothes (as had been agreed), when behold, a clearing of the throat arises, of a lisping and dull voice; and at once in this manner, but in the Icelandic tongue, it began.

I agreed at once that she should call her master. I sat down, ready to hear all about the journey and a description of the region. It was spring. The Moon was a waxing crescent. As soon as the Sun had set below the horizon, it began to shine, in conjunction with the planet Saturn in the sign of Taurus.11 My mother went off by herself to the nearest crossroads. She raised her voice and spoke a few words, making her request, and performed some ceremonies. Then she came back, held out the palm of her right hand to command silence, and sat down next to me. We had barely wrapped our heads in our clothes, as agreed, when there came the sound of a throat being cleared, in a dull, lisping voice. At once it began speaking, like this, but in Icelandic.12

11. Astrologers held that the planets’ places in the signs of the zodiac shaped events on earth. Kepler’s notes say astrologers took Saturn joined with the Moon as a sign for the hidden arts.
12. The speaker is the daemon, a spirit. Kepler’s notes say that the daemon also stands for the science of astronomy, deriving the Greek word from a verb meaning “to know.”

Quinquaginta millibus miliarium Germanicorum in ætheris profundo sita est LEVANIA insula: iter ad eam hinc, vel ex eâ in has terras rarissimè patet: et cùm patet nostræ quidem genti facilè est; hominibus verò transportandis planè difficilimum, et cum summo vitæ periculo conjunctum: Nulli à nobis sedentarij adsciscuntur in hunc comitatum, nulli corpulenti, nulli delicati; sed legimus eos, qui ætatem veredorum assiduo usu consumunt, aut qui navibus frequenter Indias adeunt, pane biscocto, allio, piscibus duratis, et cibis abhorrentibus victitare sueti. Inprimis nobis aptæ sunt vetulæ exsuccæ, quibus indè à pueritia trita est ratio, hircos nocturnos, aut furcas, aut trita pallia inequitandi, trajiciendique per immania terrarum spacia. Nulli è Germania viri apti sunt: Hispanorum sicca corpora non respuimus.

Fifty thousand German miles in the depth of the ether lies the island Levania. The way to it from here, or from it to these lands, is very rarely open; and when it is open, for our race it is easy, but for men to be carried across it is plainly most difficult and joined with the greatest danger of life. No sedentary people are taken by us into this company, no fat ones, no dainty ones; but we choose those who spend their lives in constant use of post-horses, or who often go to the Indies by ship, accustomed to live on twice-baked bread, garlic, dried fish, and repulsive foods. Especially fit for us are dried-up old women, who from childhood have been practiced in the way of riding by night on goats, or forks, or worn cloaks, and crossing over immense spaces of land. No men from Germany are fit; the dry bodies of Spaniards we do not reject.

Fifty thousand German miles up in the depths of the ether lies the island of Levania.13 The road to it from here, or from there to these lands, is very rarely open. When it is open, the trip is easy for our kind. But for carrying humans it is extremely hard, and it puts their lives in the greatest danger. We take no one into our company who sits still all day, and no one fat or soft. We choose people who spend their lives riding post-horses, or who often sail to the Indies, living on ship’s biscuit, garlic, dried fish, and other unpleasant food. Dried-up old women suit us best. Since childhood they have practiced riding by night on goats, pitchforks, or worn-out cloaks, and crossing huge stretches of land.14 No men from Germany are fit for it, but we do not turn down the dry bodies of Spaniards.15

13. Kepler’s notes count fifteen German miles to one degree of the earth’s circumference and put the Moon about fifty-nine earth radii away.
14. Many in Kepler’s time believed that witches flew by night to their gatherings. His notes reason that if courts are right that witches are carried through the air, a body might also be carried to the Moon.
15. A joke, as Kepler’s notes admit: Germany had a name for big bodies and big appetites, Spain for sharp minds and frugal living.

Totum iter quantum est, quatuor ad summum horarum spacio absolvitur. Neque enim nobis semper occupatissimis, anteà constat de tempore eundi, quàm Luna ab orientis partibus ceperit deficere: quæ ubi tota luxerit, nobis adhuc in itinere hærentibus: irrita redditur nostra profectio. Tàm præceps occasio efficit, ut paucos ex humana gente, nec alios, nisi nostri observantissimos comites habeamus. Ergò hominem aliquem hujus modi agminatim invadimus, omnesque subtus nitentes, in altum eum tollimus. Prima quæque molitio durissima ipsi accidit. Nec enim aliter torquetur ac si pulvere Bombardico excussus, montes et maria tranaret. Proptereà Narcoticis et Opiatis, statim in principio sopiendus est, et membratim explicandus, ne corpus à podice, caput à corpore gestetur, sed ut violentia in singula membra dividatur. Tunc excipit nova difficultas, ingens frigus, et prohibita respiratio, quorum illi, ingenita nobis vi, huic verò, spongijs humectis ad nares admotis, obviam imus. Confectâ primâ parte itineris, facilior redditur vectio. Tunc libero aëri exponimus corpora, manusque subtrahimus. Atque illa in sese conglobantur ut aranei: quæ nos solo ferè nutu transportamus, adeò ut denique moles corporea sponte suâ vergat in locum propositum. Sed parum nobis est utilis hæc ῥοπὴ, quia nimis tarda: itaque nutu ut dixi acceleramus; et præcedimus jam corpus, ne durissimo impactu in Lunam, damni quid patiatur.

The whole journey, however great it is, is completed in the space of four hours at most. For, since we are always very busy, the time of going is not settled before the Moon has begun to be eclipsed on its eastern side; and if it shines out whole while we are still stuck on the way, our setting out is made void. So headlong an occasion brings it about that we have few companions from the human race, and none but those most respectful toward us. So we fall upon some man of this sort in a troop, and all pushing from below, we lift him on high. The very first heave falls hardest on him. For he is wrenched no otherwise than if, blasted out by gunpowder, he were swimming across mountains and seas. Therefore he must be put to sleep with narcotics and opiates right at the beginning, and laid out limb by limb, so that the body is not carried off from the buttocks, the head from the body, but the violence is divided among the single limbs. Then a new difficulty follows, enormous cold, and breathing cut off; the former we meet with a power inborn in us, the latter with damp sponges brought to the nostrils. When the first part of the journey is done, the carrying becomes easier. Then we expose the bodies to the free air, and withdraw our hands. And they roll themselves into balls like spiders, which we carry almost by our will [nutus] alone, so that at last the bodily mass of its own accord tends to the intended place. But this tendency [Greek rhopē] is of little use to us, because too slow; so, as I said, we speed it up by our will, and we now go ahead of the body, lest it suffer some damage from a very hard impact on the Moon.

The whole journey, long as it is, takes four hours at most. We are always very busy, so the time to leave is not settled until the Moon has begun to be eclipsed on its eastern side. If it shines out whole again while we are still on the way, our trip is ruined.16 The chance comes and goes so quickly that we take few humans as companions, and only those who show us great respect. We fall on such a man as a troop, and all of us push from below and lift him up high. The first heave is the hardest for him. He is wrenched just as if he had been blasted by gunpowder over mountains and seas. So he must be put to sleep with narcotics and opiates right at the start. His limbs must be arranged so that his body is not torn from his buttocks or his head from his body, but the force is spread among all his limbs. Then a new difficulty comes: terrible cold, and breathing cut off. We fight the cold with a power that is born in us, and the breathing with damp sponges held to the nostrils. When the first part of the journey is done, the carrying gets easier. Then we leave the bodies out in the open air and take our hands away. They roll themselves up into balls, like spiders, and we carry them almost by our will alone. In the end the mass of the body moves of its own accord toward the place we intend.17 But this pull, this rhopē, is too slow to be much use to us. So, as I said, we speed it up by our will, and we go on ahead of the body, so that it is not harmed by striking the Moon too hard.

16. The spirits live in the earth’s shadow, which reaches the Moon only during a lunar eclipse. Kepler’s notes reckon that the longest eclipse lasts about four hours and twenty minutes.
17. Kepler explained weight as a mutual attraction, like magnetism, strongest between bodies close together. His notes say the body is now so far out that the Moon’s pull outweighs the earth’s.

Solent homines, cum expergiscuntur, queri de ineffabili membrorum omnium lassitudine; à qua serò admodum se recipiunt, ut ambulent.

People usually complain, when they wake up, of an unspeakable weariness of all their limbs, from which they recover only very late, so as to walk.

When people wake up, they usually complain of an indescribable weariness in all their limbs. It takes them a long time to recover enough to walk.

Multæ prætereà occurrunt difficultates, quas longum esset recensere. Nobis nihil admodum evenit mali. Tenebras enim Telluris quam longæ illæ sunt, confertim inhabitamus; quæ ubi LEVANIAM attigerint, præstò sumus, quasi ex navi in terram exscendentes: et ibi nos properè in speluncas et loca tenebrosa recipimus, ne nos Sol in aperto paulò pòst obruturus, optato diversorio ejiciat, umbramque discedentem insequi cogat. Dantur ibi nobis induciæ exercendorum ingeniorum ex animi sententia; conferimus cum ejus provinciæ dæmonibus, initaque societate, ubi primùm locus Sole carere ceperit, junctis agminibus in umbram exspaciamur, et si illa mucrone suo, quod plerumque fit, Tellurem feriat, Terris et nos, socijs exercitibus incumbimus: quod non aliàs nobis licet, quàm cum Solem homines viderint deficere. Hinc evenit, ut defectus Solis adeò metuantur.

Many difficulties besides occur, which it would be long to recount. To us nothing bad at all happens. For we inhabit, crowded together, the darkness of the Earth [Tellus], however long it is; and when it reaches Levania, we are at hand, as if disembarking from a ship onto land; and there we quickly withdraw into caves and dark places, lest the Sun, soon to overwhelm us in the open, drive us from our chosen lodging and force us to follow the departing shadow. There a truce is given us for exercising our wits as we please; we confer with the daemons of that province, and, having made an alliance, as soon as a place begins to lack the Sun, with troops joined we march out into the shadow; and if it strikes the Earth with its point, which usually happens, we too, with allied armies, fall upon the earth [Terrae]; which is not allowed us otherwise than when people see the Sun fail. Hence it comes about that eclipses of the Sun are so feared.

Many other difficulties come up, which would take too long to list. Nothing bad at all happens to us. We live crowded together in the darkness of the earth’s shadow, all along its length. When it reaches Levania, we are there at once, as if stepping off a ship onto land. There we hurry into caves and dark places. Otherwise the Sun would soon catch us in the open, drive us out of the lodging we have chosen, and force us to follow the departing shadow. There we have a break, and we can use our minds as we please. We talk with the daemons of that land and make an alliance with them. As soon as a place begins to lose the Sun, we join our troops and march out into the shadow. If its point strikes the earth, as usually happens, we too fall on the earth with our allied armies.18 We are allowed to do this only when people see the Sun eclipsed. That is why eclipses of the Sun are so feared.

18. The point of the Moon’s shadow. Where it falls on the earth, people see an eclipse of the Sun. Kepler’s notes add that evil spirits were called powers of darkness and of the air.

Atque hæc de itinere in LEVANIAM dicta sunto.

And let these things be said about the journey to Levania.

So much for the journey to Levania.

Sequitur, ut de ipsius provinciæ forma dicam, exorsus, more Geographorum, ab ijs, quæ cœlitùs illi eveniunt.

It follows that I speak of the form of the province itself, beginning, in the manner of geographers, with the things that come to it from the sky.

Next I shall describe the land itself. Like the geographers, I shall begin with what comes to it from the sky.

Etsi siderum fixorum aspectus tota Levania habet nobiscum eosdem; motus tamen Planetarum et quantitates, ab ijs, quas nos hîc videmus, observat diversissimas: adeò ut planè alia sit totius apud ipsos Astronomiæ ratio.

Although all Levania has the same view of the fixed stars as we do, yet it observes motions and sizes of the planets very different from those we see here, so that the whole system of astronomy among them is entirely different.

All of Levania sees the fixed stars just as we do. But the motions and sizes of the planets it sees are very different from what we see here. So their whole astronomy is entirely different.

Quemadmodum igitur Geographi nostri orbem terræ dividunt in quinque Zonas, propter Phœnomena Cœlestia: Sic Levania ex duobus constat hemisphærijs, uno Subvolvarum, altero Privolvarum: quorum illud perpetuò fruitur suâ volvâ, quæ est illis vice nostræ Lunæ; hoc verò Volvæ conspectu in æternum privatur.

Just as our geographers, then, divide the globe of the earth into five zones on account of the heavenly phenomena, so Levania consists of two hemispheres, one of the Subvolvans, the other of the Privolvans; of which the former always enjoys its Volva, which for them is in place of our Moon, while the latter is deprived of the sight of Volva forever.

Our geographers divide the earth into five zones according to what happens in the sky. In the same way, Levania is made up of two hemispheres, one of the Subvolvans and the other of the Privolvans.19 The first always enjoys its Volva, which takes the place of our Moon for them. The second is forever deprived of the sight of Volva.

19. Volva, from Latin volvere, “to turn,” is the earth as the Moon’s people see it, always turning. The Subvolvans live under it; the Privolvans are deprived of it. The Moon always shows the earth the same face.

Et circulus Hemisphæria dividens, instar nostri coluri solstitiorum, per polos mundi transit, appellaturque Divisor.

And the circle dividing the hemispheres, like our colure of the solstices, passes through the poles of the world and is called the Divider.

The circle that divides the hemispheres passes through the poles of the world, like our solstitial colure,20 and is called the Divider.

20. A great circle of the sky drawn through the celestial poles and the two solstice points.

Quæ igitur utrique sunt communia hemisphærio, primo loco explicabo.

What, then, is common to both hemispheres I shall explain in the first place.

First I shall explain what the two hemispheres have in common.

Itaque Levania tota vicissitudines sentit diei et noctis, ut nos: Sed carent illi hac nostrâ annuâ varietate toto anno. Per totam enim Levaniam æquantur dies ferè noctibus: nisi quòd Privolvis regulariter omnis dies est brevior suâ nocte; Subvolvis longior. Quid autem per circuitum annorum 8 varietur, infrà erit dicendum. Sub utroque verò polorum, in compensationem noctis, Sol dimidius tegitur, dimidius lucet, montes circulo circumiens. Nec enim minùs Levania suis incolis immota stare videtur, currentibus astris, quàm Terra nostra nobis hominibus. Nox et dies juncti, æquant unum ex nostratibus mensibus: quippè Sole orituro manè, integrum ferè Zodiaci signum postridiè plus apparet, quàm pridie. Et ut nobis in uno anno 365 Soles, et 366. sphæræ fixarum, seu præcisiùs in 4 annis 1461. Soles, sed 1465. sphæræ fixarum volvuntur: Sic illis in uno anno Sol duodecies, sphæra fixarum tredecies, seu præcisiùs in 8 annis Sol 99ies, sphæræ fixarum centies septies circumit. Sed familiarior est ipsis circulus annorum novendecim. Etenim in tot annis Sol oritur ducenties tricies quinquies, fixæ verò ducenties quinquagies quater.

So all Levania feels the alternations of day and night, as we do; but they lack this yearly variation of ours through the year. For throughout Levania days are almost equal to nights, except that for the Privolvans every day is regularly shorter than its night, for the Subvolvans longer. What varies over a cycle of 8 years will be told below. Under each of the poles, in compensation for the night, the Sun is half hidden, half shining, going round the mountains in a circle. For Levania seems to its inhabitants to stand motionless while the stars run, no less than our Earth to us humans. Night and day together equal one of our months; for when the Sun is about to rise in the morning, almost a whole sign of the zodiac more appears on the next day than on the day before. And as for us in one year 365 suns and 366 [turns of the] sphere of the fixed stars, or more precisely in 4 years 1,461 suns but 1,465 [turns of the] sphere of fixed stars go round, so for them in one year the Sun goes round twelve times, the sphere of the fixed stars thirteen times, or more precisely in 8 years the Sun 99 times, the sphere of the fixed stars 107 times. But more familiar to them is the cycle of nineteen years. For in so many years the Sun rises 235 times, but the fixed stars 254 times.

So all of Levania has day and night in turn, as we do. But they lack our changes through the year. All over Levania the days are almost equal to the nights. The only exception is that for the Privolvans every day is regularly shorter than its night, and for the Subvolvans longer. What changes over a cycle of eight years will be told below. At each of the poles, to make up for the night, the Sun is half hidden and half shining as it circles around the mountains. For Levania seems to its people to stand still while the stars move, just as our earth seems to us humans.21 A night and a day together equal one of our months. When the Sun is about to rise, almost a whole sign of the zodiac more appears on one day than on the day before. For us, in one year the Sun goes around 365 times and the sphere of the fixed stars 366 times. More exactly, in four years the Sun goes around 1,461 times and the fixed stars 1,465 times. For them, in one year the Sun goes around twelve times and the sphere of the fixed stars thirteen times. More exactly, in eight years the Sun goes around 99 times and the fixed stars 107 times. But they know a cycle of nineteen years better. In that many years the Sun rises 235 times, and the fixed stars 254 times.

21. Kepler’s notes call this the basis of the whole dream: an argument for the earth’s motion. Copernicus had argued that the earth turns daily and circles the Sun, though to its people it seems to stand still.

Jam quod singula Hemisphæria seorsim attinet, ingens inter ea est diversitas. Neque enim tantum præsentia et absentia Volvæ dissimilima exhibet spectacula; sed hæc ipsa communia Phænomena, diversissimos habent effectus hinc et inde: adeò ut rectiùs fortassè Privolvarum hemisphærium dici possit intemperatum; Subvolvarum temperatum. Nam apud Privolvas nox est nostros quindecim vel sedecim dies naturales longa, perpetuis horrida tenebris, quantæ apud nos sunt nocte illuni, quippe nullis Volvæ radijs ne illa quidem illustratur unquam; itaque omnia rigent gelu et pruinis insuperque et ventis rigidissimis et validissimis: succedit dies, quatuordecim nostros longa, vel eo paulò minus, quibus et Sol major, et sub fixis tardus, et venti nulli. Itaque immensus æstus. Atque sic spacio nostratis mensis, seu diei LEVANICI, uno eodemque loco et æstus est quindecies ferventior Africano nostro, et gelu intolerabilius Quivirano.

Now as to what concerns each hemisphere separately, there is great diversity between them. For not only does the presence and absence of Volva show very unlike sights, but these very phenomena held in common have very different effects here and there, so that the hemisphere of the Privolvans might perhaps more rightly be called intemperate, that of the Subvolvans temperate. For among the Privolvans night is fifteen or sixteen of our natural days long, bristling with perpetual darkness, such as we have on a moonless night, since it is never lit even by any rays of Volva; so everything is stiff with frost and rime, and besides with very harsh and very strong winds. The day follows, fourteen of ours long, or a little less, in which the Sun is both larger and slow among the fixed stars, and there are no winds. So the heat is immense. And thus in the space of one of our months, or one Levanian day, in one and the same place there is heat fifteen times more burning than our African [heat], and cold more unbearable than the Quiviran.

Taking each hemisphere on its own, there is great difference between them. The presence or absence of Volva makes their sights very unlike. But even the things they share have very different effects on each side. So the Privolvan hemisphere might better be called intemperate, and the Subvolvan temperate. Among the Privolvans, night lasts fifteen or sixteen of our days. It is rough with endless darkness, like our moonless nights, for not even a ray of Volva ever lights it. So everything is stiff with frost and ice, and on top of that there are harsh and violent winds. Then comes the day, fourteen of our days long or a little less. The Sun is larger and moves slowly against the fixed stars, and there are no winds. So the heat is immense. In the space of one of our months, which is one day on Levania, the same place has heat fifteen times fiercer than our Africa, and cold harder to bear than Quivira’s.22

22. A land placed by mapmakers of Kepler’s day on the far northwest coast of America. The name came from a place in the interior visited by Coronado’s Spanish expedition of 1540–42.

Transiturus ad hoc, incipio ab ejus limitaneis, qui circulum divisorem inhabitant. Ijs enim hoc peculiare est, ut digressiones Veneris et Mercurij à Sole observent multo majores quàm nos. Ijsdem et Venus certis temporibus duplo apparet major, quàm nobis, præsertim ijs, qui sub polo Septentrionali habitant.

Passing over to this, I begin with its borderers, who inhabit the dividing circle. For this is peculiar to them, that they observe the digressions of Venus and Mercury from the Sun much greater than we do. To them also Venus at certain times appears twice as large as to us, especially to those who live under the north pole.

Turning to this hemisphere, I begin with those on its border, who live on the Divider. What is special to them is that they see Venus and Mercury stray much farther from the Sun than we do. At certain times Venus also looks twice as large to them as it does to us, especially to those who live under the north pole.

Omnium verò jucundissima est in Levania, speculatio Volvæ suæ, cujus illi fruuntur conspectu in compensationem Lunæ nostræ; qua cùm ipsi, tùm et Privolvæ carent penitùs. Et à Volvæ hujus perenni præsentia regio ea denominatur Subvolvana; sicut reliqua ab ejus absentia, Privolvarum dicitur; quòd sint privati conspectu Volvæ.

But most delightful of all in Levania is the viewing of their Volva, whose sight they enjoy in compensation for our Moon, which both they and the Privolvans entirely lack. And from the perpetual presence of this Volva that region is named Subvolvan, just as the rest, from its absence, is called [the region] of the Privolvans, because they are deprived of the sight of Volva.

But the most delightful sight in Levania is their Volva. They enjoy the sight of it to make up for our Moon, which they and the Privolvans lack altogether. This region is called Subvolvan because Volva is always present there. The rest is called the land of the Privolvans because Volva is absent and they are deprived of the sight of it.

Notis Terrarum incolis Luna nostra, cùm plena est exoriens, superque domos longinquas ingrediens, dolij circulo videtur adæquari; ubi in medium cœli ascenderit, vix humani vultus latitudinem repræsentat. Subvolvis verò Volva sua in ipso Cœli medio (quem situm obtinet apud eos, qui habitant in meditullio seu umbilico hujus Hemisphærij;) paulò minùs quadruplo longiori diametro cernitur, quàm nobis nostra Luna, adeò, ut discorum instituta comparatione, quindecuplo major sit illorum Volva, Lunâ nostrâ. Quibus verò Volva Horizonti perpetuo inhæret, ijs eminus montis igniti speciem exhibet.

To [us,] the inhabitants of the earth [notis: known?], our Moon, when it is full and rising and coming up over distant houses, seems equal to the hoop of a barrel; when it has climbed into the middle of the sky, it barely shows the breadth of a human face. But to the Subvolvans their Volva, in the very middle of the sky (which position it holds for those who live in the center or navel of this hemisphere), is seen with a diameter a little less than four times longer than our Moon is to us, so that, a comparison of the discs being made, their Volva is fifteen times larger than our Moon. But to those to whom Volva always clings to the horizon, it shows from afar the look of a mountain on fire.

For us who live on the earth, our full Moon, as it rises and comes up over distant houses, seems as big as the hoop of a barrel. When it has climbed to the middle of the sky, it is barely as wide as a human face. But the Subvolvans see their Volva in the very middle of the sky, where it stands for those who live at the center, or navel, of this hemisphere. To them its diameter looks a little less than four times as long as our Moon’s does to us. So if you compare the discs, their Volva is fifteen times larger than our Moon. For those who have Volva always resting on the horizon, it looks from far off like a mountain on fire.

Atque hæc de apparentijs in LEVANIAE hemisphærio utroque tàm Subvolvano, quàm Privolvano. Ex quibus non est difficile vel me tacente, judicare, quantum in cæteris conditionibus Subvolvæ à Privolvis differant.

And these things [are said] concerning the appearances in each hemisphere of Levania, both the Subvolvan and the Privolvan. From which it is not difficult, even with me silent, to judge how much the Subvolvans differ from the Privolvans in their other conditions.

So much for what is seen in both hemispheres of Levania, the Subvolvan and the Privolvan. From this it is not hard to judge, even if I say nothing, how much the Subvolvans differ from the Privolvans in other ways too.

Nox enim Subvolvarum etsi nostratia quatuordecim Νυχθήμερα longa sit, Volvæ tamen præsentia terras illustrat, et à frigore custodit. Tanta quippe moles, tantus splendor, non potest non calefacere.

For the night of the Subvolvans, although it is fourteen of our day-and-nights [Greek nychthēmera] long, yet the presence of Volva lights up the lands and guards them from the cold. For so great a mass, so great a brightness, cannot fail to warm.

The Subvolvan night lasts fourteen of our days and nights. Yet Volva’s presence lights up their lands and protects them from the cold.23 So great a mass, so great a brightness, cannot help giving off warmth.

23. Kepler’s notes report that he once felt a faint warmth from full moonlight gathered in a concave mirror at Linz.

Vicissim etsi dies apud Subvolvas molestam habeat Solis præsentiam per nostra 15. vel 16. Νυχθήμερα; Sol tamen minor, non adeò infestis est viribus, et Luminaria juncta, proliciunt aquas omnes in illud Hemisphærium, terris obrutis, ut planè parum de ijs extet, arente contrà et frigente Hemisphærio Privolvano, quippe subtractis omnibus aquis. Nocte autem subeunte apud Subvolvas, die apud Privolvas, cùm Hemisphæria inter se divisa habeant luminaria; dividantur et aquæ, et Subvolvis quidem nudantur agri, Privolvis verò in exiguum solatium æstus, suppeditatur humor.

In turn, although the day among the Subvolvans has the troublesome presence of the Sun through 15 or 16 of our day-and-nights, yet the Sun is smaller [and] of not such hostile strength, and the luminaries joined draw all the waters into that hemisphere, the lands being overwhelmed, so that very little of them stands out, the Privolvan hemisphere on the contrary being dry and cold, all the waters having been drawn away. But when night comes on among the Subvolvans, day among the Privolvans, since the hemispheres have the luminaries divided between them, the waters too are divided, and the fields of the Subvolvans are laid bare, while for the Privolvans moisture is supplied as a small relief from the heat.

On the other hand, the Subvolvan day brings the troublesome presence of the Sun for fifteen or sixteen of our days and nights. Yet the Sun is smaller and less fierce. And the two great lights, joined together, draw all the waters into that hemisphere.24 The land is flooded, so that very little of it stands out, while the Privolvan hemisphere, robbed of all its waters, is dry and cold. When night comes to the Subvolvans and day to the Privolvans, the hemispheres divide the two lights between them. Then the waters are divided too. The Subvolvans’ fields are laid bare, and the Privolvans get some moisture as a small relief from the heat.

24. The Sun and Volva. Kepler held that the Moon’s pull causes the earth’s tides, and reasoned that the earth would draw the Moon’s waters likewise. His notes call this a likely guess, not a proof.

Hucusque cum pervenissem somniando; ventus ortus cum strepitu pluviæ, somnum mihi dissolvit, unaque libri Francofurti allati extrema abolevit.

When I had come this far in dreaming, a wind arisen with the noise of rain broke up my sleep, and together with it wiped out the last part of the book brought from Frankfurt.

When I had dreamed this far, a wind rose with the sound of rain and broke off my sleep. With it went the last part of the book brought from Frankfurt.

Ipse itaque relictis, Dæmone narrante, et auditoribus, Duracoto filio cum matre Fiolxhildi, ut erant obvolutis capitibus, ad me reversus, verè caput pulvnari, corpus stragulis obvolutum deprehendi.

So, having left behind the daemon telling his tale, and the listeners, the son Duracotus with his mother Fiolxhilde, with their heads wrapped up as they were, coming back to myself I found truly my head on a pillow, my body wrapped in blankets.

So I left the daemon still talking, and his listeners, Duracotus and his mother Fiolxhilde, with their heads still wrapped up. I came back to myself and found that in truth my head was on a pillow and my body wrapped in blankets.