Shea and Artigas - Galileo in Rome

by William R. Shea

  THE FIRST TRIAL

  Can we speak of a “first trial” of Galileo? The sessions of 19 March, 2 April, and 25 November 1615 were regular meetings of the Tribunal of the Inquisition, and were usually presided over by the pope when they were held on a Thursday. But the proceedings never went beyond gathering evidence in the wake of the denunciations of Lorini and Caccini, and Galileo was never formally charged, nor even informed. Years later, matters would take a very different turn.

  The deliberations of the Holy Office were secret, but Galileo had got wind of something and feared that his Letter to Castelli might have been forwarded to Rome in an altered form. He promptly asked Castelli to return the original, and when he received it he made a copy (perhaps with a few changes) and sent it to Monsignor Piero Dini in Rome, asking that it be shown to his “very great friend” Father Grienberger and, if possible, to Cardinal Bellarmine. In his cover letter, dated 16 February 1615, Galileo explained that he had written to Castelli in haste and that he was busy revising and expanding the letter. He devoted most of his energies to this task and enlisted the help of Castelli, who in turn asked a Barnabite priest to supply passages from St. Augustine and other doctors of the Church in support of Galileo’s interpretation of the Bible.

  Meanwhile, as we have seen, the Holy Office had received Lorini’s denunciation and the archbishop of Pisa had been requested to tactfully obtain the original of Galileo’s letter. How the archbishop acquitted himself of this task is known from Castelli’s account to Galileo on 12 March 1615:

  He took me to his office, seated me, and began to ask after your health. I had scarcely finished answering when he began to exhort me to give up certain extravagant opinions, and particularly that of the Earth’s motion. He said that this was for my own good and that he meant me no harm because these opinions, in addition to being silly, were dangerous, scandalous, and rash, being directly contrary to Scripture. Overcome by such benevolence, I could do no other than reply that I was eager to comply with his suggestions, and that it only remained for me to accommodate my mind to the reasons that I might hope from his profound wisdom and sound learning. He took for me but a single reason from his stock, omitting all others, and the substance of it was that since all created things are made for the service of man, it clearly follows as a necessary consequence that the Earth cannot move like the stars. Had I been able to see the necessary connection, I might have changed opinion, but His Excellency had to repeat that these opinions were folly and madness, that they had been your ruin, that he had been given wholesome notice of it, and that you had been refuted. He even went on to say (getting really hot under the collar) that it was soon to be made known to you and to His Serene Highness and to everyone that these ideas are all silly and deserve condemnation. Then he asked me if I would kindly show him that letter that you had written to me. When I said I had no copy of it, he asked me to ask you for one, which I hereby do. Please put the finishing touches to your composition, which we shall copy here immediately if you wish. Perhaps, this will be enough for his Excellency. I say perhaps, not more.

  The last sentence, in italics in the original, is the first sign that the battle was to be fraught with uncertainty for all concerned.

  ROMAN DIPLOMACY

  While Castelli was shadowboxing with the archbishop, Galileo’s Roman friends Piero Dini and Giovanni Ciampoli were busy undoing the damage that might have been caused by Lorini. On 27 February 1615, Ciampoli saw Cardinal Maffeo Barberini and reported to Galileo the next day as follows:

  Cardinal Barberini, who, as you know from experience, has always admired your worth, told me only yesterday evening that with respect to these opinions he would like greater caution in not going beyond the arguments used by Ptolemy and Copernicus and, finally, in not exceeding the limitations of physics and mathematics. For theologians claim that the explanation of Scripture is their field, and if new things are brought in, even by an admirable mind, not everyone is dispassionate enough to take them as they are said. One person amplifies, the next one alters, so that what came from the author’s own mouth becomes so transformed in spreading that he can no longer recognize it as his own. And I know what he means. Your opinion regarding the phenomena of light and shadow in the bright and dark parts of the moon draws an analogy between the lunar globe and the Earth. Somebody then enlarges on this, and says that you place human inhabitants on the Moon. The next fellow starts to dispute how these can be descended from Adam, or how they can have come off Noah’s ark, and many other extravagances you never dreamed of. Hence to declare frequently that one places oneself under the authority of those who have jurisdiction over the minds of people in the interpretation of Scripture is to remove this pretext for malice. Perhaps you think I go too far in playing the sage with you, but please forgive me, and recognize the infinite esteem that makes me speak thus.

  A week later it was Dini’s turn to report. He had given copies of the Letter to Castelli to Father Grienberger and Cardinal Bellarmine and had had a long conversation with the cardinal, who told him that the issue had not been raised since he had spoken to Galileo in 1611. “Concerning Copernicus,” Dini adds,

  Bellarmine says there is no question of his book being prohibited; the worst that might happen, according to him, would be the addition of some material in the margins of that book to the effect that Copernicus had introduced his theory in order to save the appearances, or some such thing—just as others introduced epicycles without believing in their existence. Using the same care you may deal at any time with these matters.

  The greatest scriptural hurdle to Copernicanism, according to Bellarmine, was a verse in Psalm 19 about the Sun going forth as a giant, which all interpreters treated as attributing motion to the Sun. When Dini said that this could be considered a common form of speech, the cardinal replied that a reinterpretation of Scripture should not be hastily adopted, but then neither should it be hastily ruled out, and he would be happy to see what Galileo had to say. He added that he would consult Father Grienberger, and Dini called on the Jesuit mathematician the very next morning to know what he would tell the cardinal. Grienberger said that he would have preferred Galileo to provide proofs for the motion of the Earth before talking about Scripture, and that it seemed to him that his arguments were more plausible than decisive.

  Although Dini’s letter to Galileo is dated 7 March 1615, his conversation with Bellarmine probably took place before 25 February, the day on which Lorini’s denunciation of Galileo was discussed at the Holy Office in Bellarmine’s presence. It is of course possible that the conversation was held later and that Bellarmine, who was sworn to secrecy about what was discussed at the Holy Office, was referring only to what he had heard outside the Tribunal of the Inquisition.

  One thing is clear: Bellarmine’s friendly advice, transmitted by Dini, was that Galileo should not go outside mathematics and physics and should avoid provoking theologians by teaching them how to read the Bible. This was easier said than done. Galileo would have been happy to stick to his own subject, but what was he to do when others used Scripture to reject what he was saying?

  On 14 March 1615 Dini wrote to say that he had just seen Cardinal Maffeo Barberini, who confirmed what he had already said to Galileo, namely that he should be careful and speak “as a professor of mathematics.” The Cardinal also assured Dini that he had never heard about the problem that worried Galileo, “although such matters are generally first broached in our Congregation or in that of Bellarmine.” This statement is important in order to understand subsequent developments of the Galileo Affair. Cardinal Barberini was a member of the Congregation of the Index, which was charged with censuring books. He was not a member, like Bellarmine, of the Congregation of the Holy Office (the Tribunal of the Inquisition), and he was not informed of their deliberations unless publications were concerned. The relations between the all-powerful Holy Office and the Congregation of the Index can be compared to those between the office of the prime minister and one of the ministri
es in our modern states. The ministries are not told about everything that is discussed in the prime minister’s office but only about what is relevant to their work. Clearly Barberini was not apprised of Lorini’s denunciation. Indeed, until several years after his election as pope, he will not even suspect that Galileo’s name had been mentioned at the time, let alone that he had been denounced by Lorini and Caccini.

  A THEOLOGICAL BOMBSHELL

  Matters were brought to a head by the arrival in Rome at the beginning of 1615 of a Carmelite priest, Paolo Antonio Foscarini, who had just published in Naples a letter on the Opinion of the Pythagoreans and Copernicus Regarding the Motion of the Earth. Foscarini made a forceful but serene plea for the compatibility of the Copernican hypothesis with Scripture. He did not assert that the new theory was true but argued that the Bible was written to be understood by everyone and hence employed popular rather than scientific language. God chose to reveal only what could not be discovered by the light of reason; the rest he left to human disputation. In forwarding the book to Galileo on 7 March 1615, Cesi wrote: “It could not have come out at a better time, unless it does some damage by increasing the fury of the opponents, but I do not think that this will be the case . . . He is now preaching in Rome.” Foscarini was not only preaching there but also offering to meet all comers in debate on the matter, and he had sent a copy of his book to Cardinal Bellarmine for his opinion.

  Galileo was understandably worried since he doubted whether Foscarini was qualified to defend the legitimate autonomy of physics. He asked Ciampoli for details of what was going on in Rome, and on 21 March his friend tried to reassure him:

  I confirm once again what I wrote a few days ago: these “great rumors” have made a lot of noise in the ears of four or five people and no more.

  Monsignor Dini and I have done our best to discover whether there is a great move afoot, and we have found absolutely nothing, nor is anything known to have been said about one. I imagine that the authors of this rumor believe themselves to make up a good part of Rome since they called notorious something that no one can be found to have discussed. Hence you may relax about this particular, for you do not lack affectionate friends who admire more than ever the eminence of your merits.

  But after these comforting words, Ciampoli went on to show himself less optimistic than Cesi about the fate of Foscarini’s book, “which,” he thought, “runs the risk of being suspended at the next meeting of the Holy Office because it deals with Scripture.” The message was clear: Lie low and keep out of the sacristy!

  Galileo, however, felt that he had been dragged into the sacristy, and on 23 March, 1615 he sent Dini a long letter in which he offered a spirited defense of his views. He feared that the authorities were in danger of being misled into believing that Copernicus had proposed heliocentrism only hypothetically and would feel free to condemn it. Only someone who had not read Copernicus could claim that he did not put it forward as true. There was no doubt that he believed that the Earth moved and the Sun stood still. There was no room for compromise: Copernicanism had to be either condemned or accepted outright.

  Galileo wanted his letter to be widely circulated in Rome, and Dini initially agreed to show it to Bellarmine but soon thought better of it. Ciampoli also felt that it would be unwise to try to test the strength of the enemy’s fortifications when no war had been declared. Bellarmine and Barberini had called for restraint, but instead of playing the dove Galileo declared himself a hawk. He would have done well to heed his friends’ words of caution, but he was not a man to avoid a fight, especially when he believed he could win. In April 1615, he sent Castelli the long-delayed revised version of his letter as the archbishop had requested. Castelli read it to the archbishop and some canons, as he reported on 9 April 1615:

  The Archbishop praised the letter in a stiff and formal way, I mean with a few dry words. The others liked the style, the elegance, the subtlety, and above all the modesty and reverence with which you deal with the Bible. I believe that the Archbishop, when he saw that a friar [Foscarini], who is also a theologian, published a defence of this opinion with a solemn display of crucifixes and saints was more impressed by this than by the arguments. He would not have believed it possible. But enough, he no longer declares that these things are foolish, and he begins to say that Copernicus was truly a great man and a brilliant mind.

  CARDINAL BELLARMINE’S VIEWPOINT

  The “crucifixes and saints” that Castelli mentions were displayed on the title page of Foscarini’s book. They may have swayed the archbishop of Pisa but they left Cardinal Bellarmine unmoved. Instead of admiring the artwork he read the text carefully. What is even more impressive, he took time off from a very busy schedule to write, in his own hand, a thoughtful and considerate reply. His letter of 12 April 1615 to Foscarini is one of the most important documents in the debate over Copernicanism and Scripture, and it shows that Bellarmine was fully apprised of the difficulties. He begins, courteously, by saying that Foscarini and Galileo “are prudent to content themselves with speaking only hypothetically, as I have always believed Copernicus did.” Bellarmine thought that Copernicus had put forward his system as a calculating device to determine more accurately the position of the planets. That was fine; what he objected to was a real-life scenario for which there was no proof. The Council of Trent, Bellarmine took pains to point out, objected to an interpretation of Scripture that was contrary to the consensus of the Fathers, all of whom took the passage about the Sun’s motion literally:

  The words, the Sun also rises and the Sun goes down and hastens to his place where he arose, etc, were those of Salomon, who not only spoke by divine inspiration but was a man wise above all others and most learned in the human sciences and in the knowledge of all created things. His wisdom was from God, and it is not likely that he would affirm something that went against some truth that was already demonstrated, or likely to be. Now if you tell me that Solomon spoke only according to appearances, and that it seems to us that the Sun goes around when actually it is the Earth that moves, as it seems to one on a ship that the shore moves away from the ship, I shall answer that though it may appear to a voyager as if the shore were receding from the vessel on which he stands rather than the vessel from the shore, yet he knows this to be an illusion and is able to correct it because he sees clearly that it is the ship and not the shore that is in movement. But as to the Sun and the Earth, a wise man has no need to correct his judgment, for his experience tells him plainly that the Earth is standing still and that his eyes are not deceived when they report that the Sun, the Moon and the stars are in motion.

  Bellarmine did not consider whether the statements about the motion of the Sun were just an unexamined assumption but immediately expressed his own theological conviction that there can be no errors in the Bible. For him it is no answer to say that the motion of the Earth is not a matter of faith because what is at stake is not the subject matter but the veracity of its source, namely the Holy spirit. It is just as heretical to deny that Abraham had 2 sons and Jacob 12 as to say that Christ was not born of a virgin. Furthermore, Bellarmine stressed the logical point that although Copernicanism might work as an astronomical system, this did not mean that it was physically true. In case of doubt it would not be reasonable to ask the Church to dismiss the common interpretation of Scripture. If a proof of the motion of the Earth were available, then we would want to carefully examine the scriptural passages that seem contrary and “admit that we do not understand them rather than say that something that has been proved is false.” But he had, as yet, seen no such proof.

  Lest we misunderstand the historical situation, we must bear in mind that the Galileo whom we celebrate as the father of the scientific revolution was not the man his contemporaries knew. He had not published the works on mechanics for which he later became famous, and he was nearing fifty without having written the System of the World that he had advertised as early as 1610. His reputation rested on his telescopic discoveries, admitt
edly brilliant but due in large part to the availability of good lenses in the Venetian Republic. He had seen new things sooner and perhaps a little better than others, but this was due to an optical tube rather than his mastery of optics, about which he knew little. He was undoubtedly a versatile writer and an entertaining speaker, but professionals considered him a gifted amateur when it came to philosophy. There was no indication that he was a particularly good teacher, and he never lectured at the University of Pisa, where his colleagues complained that he was overpaid.

  Galileo was considered clever at the court of the grand duke and he had friends in high places, but not everyone recognized him as a superstar. Furthermore, he had no training whatsoever in theology. He had been asked, very politely, to prove that the Earth really moved before expecting everyone to reinterpret the Scriptures. Instead of making a gesture to comply, he had become increasingly annoyed at what seemed to him the pig-headedness of the academic world. Galileo was getting restive and felt that he had to hit back, though his health was worse than ever. In May 1615 he confided to Dini: