Galileo's Lost Message

by D. Allen Henry

  On the Road to San Gimignano - 1997

  Antonietta took the wheel of the Alfa as they passed outward through the gates of the villa. The drive to San Gimignano was pleasant and unhurried, the countryside becoming more scenic the closer they came to the city. A scant few miles from their destination they rounded a curve, and there it was - San Gimignano - directly before them.

  “That has to be one of the most panoramic views in all of Italy,” Paul gasped in recognition.

  “Is this your first time to San Gimignano then?” Antonietta queried.

  “No, no, I’ve been there quite a few times. But it never ceases to amaze me. Of course, there are only a few towers left today, but it’s still magnificent to see. We must go up the tallest one. Have you been up it, Contessa?”

  “No, and why am I not surprised that you want to climb it? Is there an elevator?”

  “Nope. But it’s an easy climb. Gets the blood flowing!”

  “Whatever. Now, why did you bring me here today?”

  “All in good time, Contessa. First, to the tower!” he chanted effusively, as if he were leading a crusade.

  “Oh, all right, if we have to,” she replied submissively.

  At that moment they arrived at the ticket window for the tower, thus Paul purchased two tickets. “Here we go,” he called over his shoulder with glee. And with that, he set off climbing the steps at a dizzying pace.

  “Slow down, you maniac!” Antonietta called to his rapidly disappearing backside, which was already fifty feet ahead of her.

  “Oh, come on…get your heart racing, Contessa. It’ll be good for you!” he called down to her from the open stairwell above.

  “This is ridiculous,” she murmured to herself, and, resolving to ignore his insults, she proceeded at her own pace.

  When she finally emerged from the tiny staircase at the pinnacle, he was awaiting her arrival, “Watch your head,” he said, “It’s a tight squeeze.”

  She emerged into a small area that was divided into two halves by a large bell inside a cage. By that time he was looking out over the wall. “Look at that,” he said, pointing southwestwards, “That is the most beautiful view in all the world, Contessa!”

  Following his finger, Antonietta took in the majestic scene before her. The effect on her was instantaneous and one of great pride, “It is chance to be born who we are. At this moment I feel very lucky to be Italian, Paulo. Non?”

  “I would say that just about sums it up, Antonietta. I for one am most jealous. I would dearly love to have been born Italian.”

  “Well said, my Professore,” she replied, “Well said.”

  After they descended from the tower, they stopped for gelato in the Piazza della Cisterna, directly in the city center. “So, what did you have in mind, Professore?” Antonietta queried, for at least the third time.

  “Right. I suppose that I can’t put it off any longer,” he replied doubtfully.

  “That sounds ominous,” she replied, brushing back an errant strand of hair.

  “I want to go to the torture museum. It’s right over there,” he said, pointing to the north side of the square.

  “Oh, no, not on your life!” she responded emphatically. “I’ve heard about that horrible thing, and you will never get me anywhere near it.”

  “You’re already near it, Contessa,” he replied with an impish smirk.

  “That may be, but it was under false pretenses. I was duped!” she replied.

  Paul responded, “I know. I’m sorry about that, but I was sure that you would refuse to even come to San Gimignano if I divulged my reason for wanting to come here.”

  “Touché, Professore. Your plan worked, at least up until this moment. You’re not getting me inside that museum!” she replied emphatically.

  At this Paul decided to play his ace in the hole, “Please hear me out. I have a reason for wanting to see it, and I am hoping that you will join me. Can you just hear me out?”

  At his supplicating entreaty she felt obliged to at least listen. Thus, she replied, “Go ahead. Tell me, what is so important inside there for me to see?”

  “Okay, well, it’s pretty sickening, I’ll grant you that. Okay, maybe that’s understating. Frankly, to be honest, it’s just about the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Contessa.”

  “Then why on earth do you want to go in there again, Paulo?” she replied in apparent confusion.

  “Look, Antonietta, we are on our way to Roma, just as Galileo was in the winter of 1633. He was in poor health, there was a plague, and he saw bodies stacked alongside the roadway on his journey. It was a very difficult time in Italy. And he was going to Roma to be subjected to the Inquisition!” He paused a moment for effect, and then he continued, “I don’t think I need tell you that he was aware that torture was a possibility as a part of his trial.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand. But why do we need to go in there, Professore?”

  “As I said, I’ve been in there, and I can assure you that you can never even begin to understand the horror that Galileo feared until you have been inside that museum.”

  “Perhaps, but I do not see why I need to understand the horror that he felt. To what purpose does that serve, Professore?”

  “Simple, Contessa - we need to get inside Galileo’s head in order to comprehend the deepest meaning of the poem; in order to understand what an egotistical blind man nearly eighty years old, a man who had suffered severely, would have felt compelled to tell the world at the end of his life.”

  Antonietta paused, stood up, and walked over to the cisterna, turning her back to him in contemplation. Paul waited patiently, knowing that this was a difficult decision for her. After several minutes she came back to the table, showing no evident emotion that would give away her thoughts. She sat down, emitted an audible sigh, then added somberly, “I suppose you are right. I don’t want to do it, but I am afraid that I must do it. Come on. Let’s get it over with,” and with that she arose and headed for the museum.

  Paul quickly joined her side, saying, “Thank you, Antonietta. I know how hard this must be for you. And I promise you, I will make sure that we only see the items that are cogent to Galileo’s trial. It won’t take long, not more than fifteen minutes.”

  “Va bene,” she replied tersely.

  A short time later they exited into the sunlight, Antonietta appearing as if she were ill. She headed straight for the cisterna, whereupon she stopped and collapsed miserably on the apron of the well. She turned to Paul and emitted, “I had no idea. My God, Paulo, what on earth must it have been like to live through The Middle Ages? How could people do such things to other humans?”

  “That, Contessa, is the fifty million dollar question,” he replied emphatically. “I seriously doubt that anyone living on this planet today could even begin to imagine what the world was like a mere four hundred years ago.”

  “But the Church…” she said, almost gagging on the phrase, “The Church! How could they perpetrate such crimes in the name of Jesus. Does it not say in the Bible ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you’?”

  “I’m not a cleric, so I cannot say, Contessa. But it seems clear to me that there was an even greater fear at the time than the fear of violating God’s word.”

  “What? What could cause greater fear than that, Paulo?”

  “I can only guess – fear of eternal damnation? Really, I have no idea, my dear Contessa. But of one thing I am certain - Our Galileo’s fear amplified as he journeyed closer and closer to Roma, the realization closing in on him that he could well be treated as a convicted heretic. And heresy was the most heinous of all crimes in his day.”

  “Alright, Professore, I have the picture in my mind. And if it’s any comfort to you, I doubt that what I’ve just seen can ever be erased from my consciousness,” she replied miserably.

  “I understand, and I’m sorry that it was necessary,” he responded and, touching her shoulder in consolation, he recommended, “Now, sh
all we be off to Roma?”

  The Vatican -June 21, 1633

  Galileo wandered the sumptuous hallway, here and there stopping to study one of the fabulous pieces of artwork that adorned the Vatican. On this day he spent quite a long time in the map room, studying with great interest the maps of Italia, examining carefully the depictions showing all of the places that he had lived in his lifetime, as if memorizing their geographic places within the universe. He found maps intriguing. How accurate were they when compared to reality? How could the process of creating them improve their accuracy? If one were stationed on the Moon pointing a telescope towards Earth, would Italia appear as it did in these maps?

  As he wandered, his thoughts wandered as well. Despite his imprisonment, Galileo continued to feel optimistic that he would be completely exonerated. Had he not been given a sumptuous suite of three rooms? And had he not been allowed to wander through the hallways at his leisure? It seemed to him that there was little substance to the game that he had been drawn into. Indeed, in his first interrogation, he had scored several points, while the Inquisitor had failed on all counts to gain the upper hand. It was clear to all concerned that Galileo had been approved to write the book by The Holy See, and that he had not taken sides between the two world systems. And the backing of the Duke of Tuscany must surely have gained him further ground with Pope Urban VIII.

  A member of the Swiss Guards approached unexpectedly, and Galileo turned to face him, realization coming over him that the guard was not simply a passerby. “Signore Galileo Galilei,” the guard announced formally, “I am sure that you are aware why you were summoned here today. The Holy Inquisitor wishes to see you at once. If you please, follow me, signore.”

  At this revelation Galileo paled, but nonetheless fell into stride behind the guard as ordered. It was quite a distance to the interrogation room, and by the time they arrived Galileo was visibly distressed from the brisk walk. Stepping into the room, he bowed towards the Inquisitor, and huffed breathlessly, “Father Maculano, you sent for me?”

  “Yes, I did, Professore Galilei. I am distressed to observe that you appear ill. Please sit down,” and he motioned to Galileo to be seated within the lone chair opposite the Inquisitor’s table. Galileo did as requested.

  Vincenzo Maculano was a tall gaunt and thoroughly imposing clergyman who incited fear by his stern appearance. At the age of fifty-five, he was senior enough to be marked by the lines of age, thereby further enhancing his imposing visage and resulting air of unassailable authority. He sat motionless for several moments, allowing the silence to instill anxiety in Galileo. On this occasion he had decided to meet with Galileo without Father Sincero in attendance, the solitude providing a further opportunity to instill absolute trepidation in the rancorous prisoner before him.

  Finally, seeing that Galileo had recovered his breath, Maculano commenced condescendingly, “Have you taken the opportunity to repent your failures since our last meeting, Signore Galilei?”

  Looking somewhat surprised, Galileo replied, “My failures?” He contemplated for a moment in an attempt to discern the meaning of this unexpected query. Hoping to buy time, he continued evasively, “Why yes, Father. As all men are subject to failures, I confess that I have mine. And the time that The Holy See has so graciously afforded me within these most sacred walls has given me pause to consider my failings.” He sat back in his chair confidently, certain from the Inquisitor’s reaction that he had scored the first point.

  Maculano quickly covered his surprise with a coolly dejected appearance. After a few moments, he responded with, “In our last meeting you did not appear to concede those failures, Signore Galilei. Will you now confess those shortcomings?”

  Galileo sat up straight. He had been prepared for this approach. “Yes, Father, I do confess most humbly that I did perhaps overstate the defense of the theory of Copernicus in my recent book. I offer most humbly to alter the manuscript, appending an additional chapter denying in great detail the veracity of the sun-centered theory.”

  At this, Maculano pounded his fist on the table, and exploded with rage, “Sir, you miss the point ENTIRELY!”

  At this unexpected outburst Galileo cowered in fear, withdrawing as far as he could into his chair. He peered about, as if seeking help to come to his aide, but there was none. “Sir, I must apologize most sincerely. Please be so kind as to instruct me in the error of my thoughts that I may better serve you and the Holy Father.”

  “Signore Galilei, do not pretend to play games with me. We are not engaged in a game of chance, or even a duel of words. We are here for the purpose of determining one and only one thing – the salvation of your soul. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Father,” Galileo replied contritely, a wave of terror now overcoming him. “Perhaps the Holy Father himself could instruct me personally in the error of my ways?”

  At this Maculano exploded yet again in rage, “The Holy Father is at Castel Gandolfo. He is thoroughly disgusted with this entire episode. He wants the problem dispensed with immediately!”

  Confused, Galileo replied somewhat stupidly, querying, “Problem? What problem, Father?”

  “You, Professore! You are the problem!” and at this he pounded yet again on the table for effect.

  Galileo was thoroughly undone by this unforeseen change of course. All hope of escape now abandoned, he could do nothing more than await the next move by the Inquisitor.

  Maculano sat silently for a full minute, allowing fear to seep more deeply into every fiber of his arrogant transgressor. Finally, he spat out condescendingly, “Tell me about this character Simplicio, Professore Galilei.”

  Still further confused, Galileo replied contritely, “He takes the side of the Earth centered universe in The Discourse, Father.”

  Maculano raised his hand to pound once more, but this time he simply held his clinched fist aloft, as if preparing for the next blow to fall other than on the table. With his hand still raised, he screamed irately, “You have defiled the Holy Father, Signore Galilei. It is obvious to one and all, Simplicio plays the part of the Pope!”

  At this Galileo grabbed his throat, fell to his knees, and screamed, “No Father!” Catching his own tenor, he murmured quietly, “I apologize most abjectly for my outburst, Father. It is just that it is completely false. I meant no harm to the Holy Father. I hold him in the highest possible regard. He has always treated me with great kindness. He is indeed worthy of his role as the Messenger of God. Please, I beg you, please inform him – this vicious rumor is completely false!”

  Maculano gazed implacably at the now nearly prostrate man before him, sensing that the breaking point was near at hand. “Go on,” he said condescendingly.

  Galileo glanced up at the Cardinal and replied, “Go on, Father?”

  Maculano simply stared menacingly downward toward the recoiling offender before him.

  Gathering his thoughts, Galileo summoned up one last line of defense, “Father, it was the peripatetic Cesare Cremonini. He was the model for Simplicio! I swear on my faith in God, the Holy Father was never in my mind as such. May God strike me down if I speak falsely, Father.”

  Maculano stared a moment, and then said, “Even so, the Holy Father doubts your sincerity, Signore Galilei.”

  Stunned by this revelation, having had no idea whatsoever that this was the source of his incarceration, Galileo now realized that it had been his old foes, the Jesuits. Clearly, they had gotten to the Holy Father. Dejectedly, he thought to himself, “The game is up.”

  Maculano paused a few moments for further effect, then he carefully placed two devices on the table, at which Galileo’s eyes grew wide in fear and desperation. “Professore, do you know what these are?”

  Unable to speak, Galileo immediately turned pale and clutched at his chest.

  “I repeat, Signore Galilei – do you know what these are?” As Galileo could only move his mouth silently, the Inquisitor continued with a wry smile, “This one we call the nutcracker. It is subl
imely satisfying to experience the change in demeanor of those who are awarded the opportunity to experience her tactful interrogation skills. While indeed no one has actually been rewarded with death as a result of her tender ministrations, her skill at extracting truth has never failed.”

  Growing increasingly pallid by the moment, Galileo now hunched forward, desperation searing every fiber of his body.

  Maculano placed the device back on the table, and gingerly lifted the other one. “Surely you know what this device is, Signore Galileo!” he said with an eerily macabre smile.

  Galileo gazed solemnly upwards to the ceiling and, eyes bulging as big as saucers, he studiously avoided eye contact with the feared device.

  Sensing the end game, Maculano continued, “This one is my favorite. It is actually the original, the one used on the heretic Bruno. Look here, see?” and, despite the fact that Galileo was so obviously looking elsewhere, he pointed to a part of the device. He then offered pleasantly, “This is the part that was used to clamp his jaw shut. And see these, they are spikes. One was driven through his tongue, the other through his palette, and both were attached to the clamp. Needless to say, Brother Bruno was utterly speechless at his immolation in the Campo dei Fiori.”

  By this point Galileo was weeping and, soft sniffling emanating from him, he was at long last acutely aware that his fate rested on the whim of the ghastly person before him.

  Maculano rose from his seat, slowly circumvented the table, and placing his hand ever so delicately on Galileo’s head, he whispered soothingly, “Now, my son, I must ask you to lay prostrate on the floor.” Galileo jerked and gagged, at which Maculano commanded softly, “Hush, my son. There, there, now do my bidding.”

  Galileo slowly leaned forward, collapsing as if in slow motion face down on the floor.

  The Inquisitor, satisfied with this acquiescence, thus returned to his place behind the table. He sat for several minutes in silence, allowing the totality of his authority to sink in. Finally, he said gently, “Signore Galileo, The Holy See has found you guilty. Your sentence will be similar to that of Brother Bruno.” Halting for several moments to enhance the gravity of the moment, he then suggested, “There is but one means of assuring your salvation from the Inferno. Shall I tell the Holy Father that you wish to avail yourself of such?”