One of the new ideas was the discovery that the apparent path of the sunspots depends on the rotation of the Earth. The facts are as follows: The sunspots trace a straight line only twice a year at the summer and the winter solstices; for the remaining time, they follow an arc that curves upwards for half the year and downwards for the next half. For those who claimed that the Earth was at rest and the Sun went around it every day, it was hard to explain why the sunspots should change their path according to an annual and not a daily cycle. But if the Earth went around the Sun, and the Sun was inclined to the ecliptic (the Sun’s apparent path among the stars during the year), then this is just what would be expected. Here was the “ample confirmation of the Copernican system,” but Galileo only gave an incomplete sketch of his argument in the Dialogue. In a book published at about the same time, his Jesuit rival, Christopher Scheiner, described the inclination of the Sun’s axis and accounted for the observed paths of sunspots much more accurately while retaining the assumption that the Earth is at rest.
ECCLESIASTICAL CENSORSHIP
On 24 December 1629, Galileo sent his season’s greetings to Prince Cesi and informed him that the Dialogue was ready except for the introduction and a few minor points to be revised. Galileo’s eyesight was failing, but he declared himself ready to go to Rome to oversee the printing of the book, which he assumed would be undertaken at the prince’s expense. Galileo’s willingness to undertake this journey did not stem exclusively from his desire to “avoid inconveniencing other people,” as he put it. It was also motivated by the dreadful job that the Lyncean Academy had done in 1624 with his Assayer, which they had allowed to appear with over 200 misprints.
It is interesting that Galileo does not raise the matter of ecclesiastical permission to publish. Indeed, he does not seem to worry in the least about it. He had no reason to feel otherwise since the new master of the sacred palace, the person who authorized publication in Rome, was now Father Niccolò Riccardi. This was the very man who had approved The Assayer with a gush of admiration in 1623. Nonetheless, Galileo knew that ecclesiastical censorship was exercised not only in the case of sensitive subjects, like the nature of the Eucharist, but for books of all kinds. In 1515, Pope Leo X, a Florentine by birth, had decreed that anyone seeking publication must have his work examined by the local bishop or his representative. Printers who started their presses without permission were threatened with fines, excommunication, and the burning of their books. Following the Council of Trent, new restrictions stipulated that authors as well as printers could be excommunicated. Readers also faced the same sanctions, and booksellers were warned to keep an eye on their stock.
Galileo had submitted all his previous works to the requisite scrutiny in the city where they were printed. Since Prince Cesi intended the Dialogue to appear in Rome, the work had to be examined there despite the fact that the author lived in Florence. This posed no problem since Galileo planned to deliver the manuscript himself and correct the galleys in Rome.
THE EARTH A STAR!
Galileo’s Roman friends rejoiced at the good news of his forthcoming trip, and on 5 January 1630 Ciampoli invited Galileo to stay with him. He conveyed “the most affectionate greetings” of Father Riccardi (the “Monster”), who had been made master of the sacred palace and was now in a position to license books for printing. Benedetto Castelli went as far as to tell Riccardi that what had decided Galileo to resume work on his book was the news of Riccardi’s appointment. Riccardi had only been assigned to his new post on 2 June 1629, so Castelli was stretching the truth, but the little white lie worked as intended. Riccardi was flattered and replied that Galileo could always count on him. Castelli took this at face value and wrote to Galileo on 9 February to say that as far as Father Riccardi was concerned, everything would go smoothly.
Unfortunately Riccardi did not operate alone. In the same letter, Castelli describes how a few days earlier he had met the pope’s nephew, Cardinal Francesco Barberini, at a scientific meeting. The nature of the tides came up for discussion and Castelli blurted out that Galileo had written a wonderful essay on the topic. But Galileo assumes that the Earth really moves, said someone. To which Castelli replied that Galileo did not go beyond showing that if the Earth moved, then the tides would necessarily follow. The qualifier is important. Before Castelli could leave, Cardinal Francesco Barberini told him privately that if the Earth were really in motion, “it would have to be considered a planet, something that seems too much at variance with theology.”
Here was the rub. The master of the sacred palace, Father Riccardi, might believe that Copernicanism had nothing to do with Scripture or religion. It was a clever theory that was useful for astronomical computation but about whose truth nothing could be decided. Pope Urban VIII, his nephew Cardinal Francesco Barberini, and other Church dignitaries did not think it was quite so simple. If the Earth traveled around the Sun, it ceased to be at the center of the world and lost its distinctive-ness. Changing its location entailed changing its nature. It was no longer unique but just one of several planets. A number of questions the n raise d their ugly heads, such as: Are there intelligent beings on other planets? And if so, how are we to understand the meaning of original sin, the incarnation, and the whole of redemption? These issues had been mooted as early as 1611 by professors in Perugia and had been passed on to Galileo by Monsignor Piero Dini. Urban VIII, while still a cardinal, had mentioned them to Ciampoli in 1615, and his nephew now felt the need to remind Castelli, and hence Galileo, that they were still a matter of real concern.
Castelli bluffed his way out of this awkward situation by telling Cardinal Francesco Barberini that Galileo could show that the Earth was not a planet, just as easily as he could prove that the Moon was not the Earth. The cardinal w as not overwhelm e d by the claim but he contented himself with saying that Galileo “would have to prove all this, but as for the rest it could pass.” What Francesco Barberini intended by “the rest” is not clear. Bellarmine, his predecessor at the Holy Office, had stated in his letter to Foscarini of 1616 that only a compelling proof of the Earth’s motion would warrant reinterpreting the passages in the Bible that appear to state the opposite. In his Letter to Christina Galileo had argued that Scripture does not teach how the heavens go but how to go to Heaven, but since the ban on Copernicanism of 1616 he had been careful not to refer to this correspondence. The events of 1616 could not be wished away, and Riccardi, for all his bonhomie and good will, could not behave as though they did not exist. Ever the optimist, their mutual friend Monsignor Ciampoli was convinced that Galileo only had to appear in Rome to triumph over any eventual difficulty. Because he had convinced them, Castelli and Ciampoli were sure that Galileo could convince anyone.
ECCLESIASTICAL PENSIONS
The correspondence between Galileo and Castelli reveals another aspect of Galileo’s ties with the Church. We have seen that Galileo had obtained from Urban VIII a title of canon for his son Vincenzio. This sinecure was attached to a church in Brescia in northern Italy and would have guaranteed a small annual income for the rest of Vincenzio’s life in exchange for no real work. All that was required was receiving the tonsure, namely having some of the hair clipped from one’s head as part of the ritual marking the entrance into the clerical state. Vincenzio objected to this, and Galileo requested that the pension be transferred to his nephew, also called Vincenzio. When this did not work, Galileo took steps to have it passed to his grandson, the little Galileo, as soon as the boy was born in December 1630.
The attribution of the income of a canon to a nonresident person was already an abuse, but requesting it for a baby was carrying things too far even for Castelli, who had been charged with negotiating with the authorities. While Galileo was trying to push the deal through, a second canonry became available in the cathedral at Pisa, and he was able to secure it for himself. The papal brief that conferred the title upon him is dated 12 February 1630 and includes the customary reference to the recipient’s “honest life and
morals, as well as his other praiseworthy qualities of uprightness and virtue.” When it became clear after a year’s maneuvering that the Brescia canonry could not be transferred to his grandson, Galileo had it placed in his own name. For his remaining years he was to receive from the two canonries a combined annuity that amounted to one hundred scudi. This may have been only one-tenth of his annual salary, but we must recall that as the grand duke’s personal mathematician, he was the highest paid official in Tuscany. One hundred scudi was roughly the annual wage of a qualified worker. Galileo was not required to wear a habit or change his lifestyle, but he did have his hair cut, and he received the ecclesiastical tonsure at the hands of Archbishop Alessandro Strozzi on 5 April 1631. From then on, he was a member of the clergy and was occasionally referred to as such in legal documents.
A PRIVATE VISIT?
On 13 January 1630 Galileo confirmed in a letter to Cesi that he wanted his book to be published in Rome and that he was willing to go there to correct the galleys. On 26 January Cesi acknowledged receipt of Galileo’s two letters, apologized for the delay in replying due to his increasing ill health, and assured him that as far as the galleys were concerned, Galileo would merely have to tell them what to do.
At about this time Galileo received a letter from Giovanfrancesco Buonamici, the Tuscan ambassador to Spain, to whom he had written in November 1629 requesting information about the period of the tides on the Spanish coast and elsewhere. What motivated this query was Galileo’s belated discovery that in the Mediterranean there are two high tides and two low tides each day, and not only one high tide and one low tide as his own theory demanded. Buonamici made enquiries and confirmed that the flow and ebb of the sea followed a 12- and not a 24-hour cycle. This was devastating news for Galileo’s explanation of the tides, which postulated one high tide at noon and one low tide at midnight. But Galileo did not panic and merely concluded that these discrepancies could be explained by the odd shapes and the varying depth of the ocean floor. He was so convinced of the validity of his proof of the Earth’s motion that he continued to believe, in the teeth of evidence, that the diurnal period in the ocean followed a 24- and not a 12-hour cycle. His faith in his theory was greater than his trust in what sailors reported.
Meanwhile in Rome, Castelli had seen Father Riccardi again and he felt increasingly confident that all would go well, but Ciampoli was beginning to fear that trouble might be brewing higher up. Castelli thought that Galileo should arrive in Rome in some official capacity, but Ciampoli felt otherwise and recommended that Galileo appear to be traveling “for his own pleasure and in order to see friends and patrons.”
The Grand Duke Ferdinando II, who had turned 18 two years earlier, was now the effective ruler of Tuscany, and his official endorsement would involve the government and complicate matters.
Castelli went on telling Riccardi that Galileo was happy that his book was to be revised by him, and Riccardi kept promising to fix things when he had not seen, let alone read, the manuscript of the Dialogue. No one, except the author, knew exactly what the book contained. Neither Cesi nor Ciampoli, nor Castelli, nor Riccardi had held it in his hands. They knew what the main argument was, but they had only a vague notion of how the book was structured or in what way the arguments were marshalled. Riccardi was being asked to buy a pig in a poke, and he was too vain or too kind to declare that he could not give the work a clean bill of health before actually reading it. Galileo’s friends were convinced that he had produced a great book, and they were anxious to see it appear. Manipulating Father Riccardi, always so anxious to please, did not seem to them objectionable. Hoodwinking Cardinal Francesco Barberini or, worse still, the pope, however unwittingly, was another matter.
AN ASTROLOGER IN THE WINGS
Like all European courts in the seventeenth century, the Rome of Urban VIII saw the arrival and departure of controversial and sometimes bizarre figures. One of these was the Dominican Tommaso Campanella, who had been among the first to praise Galileo’s Sidereal Message when it appeared in 1610. Condemned to a life sentence for leading a rebellion against the Spaniards, Campanella was incarcerated in Naples from 1599 until 1626, when Urban VIII had him moved to Rome. It was while he was in prison in Naples that he wrote his Apology for Galileo, which was published in Germany without proper ecclesiastical permission in 1622. Campanella was an authority on astrology, and there is some evidence that he was asked by Pope Urban VIII to study his horoscope and suggest ways of avoiding any evil influence that eclipses and comets might exercise, including sickness and disease. This may seem naive to the modern reader, but we must remember that the bacterial theory of disease was unknown in the seventeenth century and that perfectly reasonable people were willing to try any prophylaxis that had not been disproved. Too much caution was better than too little. Campanella was also a prolific and influential writer, and the pope, at least at first, seems to have enjoyed his company. Campanella bragged about one of these conversations, as we know from what Castelli wrote to Galileo on 16 March 1630.
In the last few days Father Campanella was speaking with His Holiness and he told him that he had had the opportunity to convert some German gentlemen to the Catholic faith towards which they were very favorably inclined. However, when they heard about the prohibition of Copernicus, etc., they were scandalized, and he had been unable to go further. His Holiness answered with these very words: “It was never our intention, and if it had been up to us that decree would not have been issued.”
Campanella’s admiration for Galileo was not an unmixed blessing. He seized upon the implications of the new astronomy and carried them farther than Galileo himself. For Campanella the telescope had proved conclusively that there are other planets as important as “this star our Earth,” and that these could have inhabitants like ourselves or perhaps greater. This kind of speculation was considered flighty in Rome. It was also dangerous: The last thing the Church wanted was an open debate on the nature of hypothetical planetary dwellers. What Urban VIII said to Campanella in 1630 is exactly what he had told Cardinal Zollern in 1624. Copernicanism was not a heresy, to be sure, but it went against the apparent fact that the Earth is at rest at the center of the world, something virtually all biblical scholars took for granted.
THE VISIT IS OFFICIAL
As was becoming customary, Galileo postponed his departure while he tried to obtain an official or semi-official recognition of his trip. Ciampoli had invited him to stay in his home, but Galileo hoped to be lodged in the more prestigious Tuscan embassy at the Palazzo Firenze or in the Villa Medici, where he had been received in style in 1615. As events were to show, it was a good thing that Galileo did not stay with Ciampoli. In April 1630, it began to be rumored that Ciampoli had lost the pope’s favor. Although Castelli pooh-poohed the news in a letter to Galileo, the alarm bell had been sounded. Ciampoli had not fallen in disgrace . . . yet. He was to do so at a later date and at the worst possible moment for Galileo.
On 8 April Galileo wrote a long letter to Giovanfrancesco Buonamici in Madrid in which he mentioned that he expected to leave for Rome within eight or ten days in order to return to Florence for the patron feast of Saint John the Baptist on 24 June. But on 18 April, he was still in Florence awaiting a letter of recommendation for the ambassador in Rome. He was helped in this matter by Geri Bocchineri, the brother-in-law of his son, who occupied the influential position of private secretary to Andrea Cioli, the secretary of state. Bocchineri was fond of Galileo and went to some trouble to see that Galileo had the letter for the ambassador on Sunday, 28 April 1630, the date of his departure. Bocchineri also arranged for a granducal litter to fetch Galileo between the eighteenth and the twentieth hour. In the seventeenth century, hours were numbered from sunset, so that this means roughly between 2:00 and 4:00 P.M. in our way of counting. The vehicle was brought to the Convent of San Matteo so that Galileo could bid his two daughters farewell.
Galileo was traveling in an official capacity, but things had been arranged
pretty much at the last moment, and the ambassador, Francesco Niccolini, was surprised to see him arrive in Rome, unannounced and unexpected, on the evening of Friday, 3 May. He nonetheless made him welcome and informed Cioli on the next day that he had provided lodging for him “in this palace,” by which is meant the official residence, the Palazzo Firenze, and not the villa Medici. In his reply on 11 May, Cioli told Niccolini not to marvel at Galileo’s sudden appearance. He also knew nothing about the trip until he was told by the grand duke to give Galileo a letter of endorsement. Fortunately, the ambassador and his wife, Caterina Riccardi, a cousin of the master of the sacred palace, were gracious hosts and they saw to his comfort and welfare.
THE ROME OF URBAN VIII
Galileo does not seem to have kept a close eye on politics, but he could not have failed to notice that things had changed in Rome since 1624, when he had been able to see the new pope, Urban VIII, six times in six weeks. This was no longer possible in the tense political climate of 1630. The Thirty Years’ War, which had begun as a clash between German Catholic and Protestant princes had spiralled out of control to involve many other countries including Italy, France, Spain, Portugal, Sweden, Denmark, Poland, Transylvania, and Turkey. By 1630, only a few of the various causes that fuelled the conflict still pertained to genuinely religious issues. Particularly worrisome was the struggle between the Catholic monarchs of France and Spain for control of the Holy Roman empire. As the leader of Christendom, the pope might have been expected to try to reconcile the French Bourbons and the Spanish Habsburg, but whereas he had been papal legate in France and had held the newborn Louis XIII at the baptismal font, he had never been in Spain and he resented its influence in the Italian peninsula. His overt sympathy for King Louis XIII and Cardinal Richelieu irked the Spanish cardinals, who began to denounce his policy. In return Urban VIII grew suspicious of officials who had close ties with Spanish prelates. Unfortunately, Ciampoli was eventually found to be a part of this group.
Shea and Artigas - Galileo in Rome Page 15