Cited to Rome, Galileo came only after repeated urging, on February 14, 1633. The story of his having been imprisoned and tortured on this second visit to Rome is false. Galileo wrote on April 16 of that year: “I live in an apartment of three rooms, belonging to the Fiscal of the Inquisition, and am free to move in many rooms. My health is good.” This stay in the apartment belonging to the Inquisition lasted but twenty-two days; after that Galileo was allowed to live in the palace of the Ambassador of Tuscany. During his whole life Galileo was never even for an hour in a real prison.
Galileo's demeanour before the Inquisition bespeaks little [pg 187] truthfulness and manliness. It makes a painful impression. Many other events in his life cast dark shades of insincerity upon his character, especially his relations with Kepler. While in his dialogue he openly defended the truth of the Copernican system, while he had written, time and again, that the theory had been demonstrated by “forceful, convincing arguments,” whereas nothing but insignificant reasons could be pleaded for the contrary, he now assumes the attitude before the Inquisition of denying that he had championed that theory, at least not consciously; that he had never taught that doctrine otherwise than hypothetically. And this he asserts although he had taken the oath to say nothing but the truth. We even hear him declare that he considers the doctrine to be false, and that he was ready to refute it at once.
The judges were convinced of the untruthfulness of the defendant. In those times, in order to obtain further confessions, especially when the accused had been previously convicted of guilt, torture was resorted to. This regrettable practice was then in vogue at every European court; the Inquisition, too, had adopted it, but strict rules were laid down to guard against abuses. Very old persons were exempt from the rack; they were only threatened with it. This happened also in Galileo's case, he was never actually put on the rack. Moreover, one can safely presume that this threat did not terrify him much. His reading must have enlightened him on this point, and even without it he must have known the practice by his active intercourse with those theologians of the Curia who were friendly to him. In fact, he clung obstinately to his denial, to the very end of the hearing, although it must be surmised that he would not have aggravated his case by confession. The commissioner of Inquisition, Macolano, at the first stages of the trial had expressed his hope that in this event “it would be possible to show indulgence to the guilty, and whatever the result might be, he would realize the benefit received, apart from all other consequences to be expected from a desired mutual satisfaction” (Letter to Cardinal Fr. Barberini, April 28, 1633).
On June 22 the final verdict was rendered: it told the defendant: “Thou art convicted by the Holy Congregation [pg 188] of being suspected of heresy, to wit, to have held for true, and believed in, a false theory, contrary to Holy Writ—which makes the sun the centre of the orbit of the earth, without moving from east to west, and which lets the earth, on the other hand, move outside the centre of the world, and to have believed that an opinion may be considered probable and be defended, though it had been expressly declared to be contrary to the Scripture.” Galileo was declared suspect of heresy, because, in the opinion of the judges, he had assumed that a doctrine in contradiction to the Scriptures might be defended. Galileo retracted by oath. That upon retraction he arose and exclaimed, stamping with his foot, “Pur si muove!” (“and yet it does move!”) is a fable. He was sentenced to be jailed in the Holy Office. But already the next day he was allowed to go to the palace of the Grand Duke of Tuscany and to consider that palace his prison. Soon after he departed for Siena, “in the best of health,” according to the report of the Tuscan ambassador, Niccolini, and there took up his abode with his friend the Archbishop Piccolomini. After a lapse of five months he was allowed to return to his villa at Arcetri, near Florence, where he remained, with the exception of occasional visits to Florence, till his death. Two of his daughters were nuns in the nearby cloister of S. Matteo. His literary activity was not suppressed by the surveillance of the Inquisition. His lively and fertile mind, cut off from polemics, turned to the completion of his researches in other directions. His lively intercourse with friends and disciples, of whom many belonged to various Orders, proved beneficial to him. In the year 1638 he published his “Dialogue on the New Sciences,” which he rightly pronounced to be his best effort, and by which he became the founder of dynamics. His productiveness continued until he became blind.
We may say without fear of contradiction that, apart from their theoretical error, the Roman Congregations had shown the greatest indulgence towards one guilty of having broken his pledge, and doubtless they would have been still more lenient had Galileo, confirmed by flattering friends in his anger at the supposed intrigues of his enemies, not himself made this [pg 189] impossible; if he had not continued to propagate secretly his views, verbally and in writing, which was bound to be discovered. Considering all this, Rome's proceeding in the case appears to be quite indulgent. Here the position was taken that the spread of the doctrine would mean an imminent danger to the purity of the faith. The unfortunate scientist died on January 8, 1642, at the age of seventy-eight years, fortified by the holy Sacraments. Urban VIII. sent him his blessing. Undoubtedly Galileo had nothing in common with the champions of that unbelieving freedom of science, which now tries to lift him upon its shield; notwithstanding his later bitterness he remained to his death steadfast in his Catholic faith.
Comments on the Galileo Case.
The above is a brief history of Galileo's conviction, and of the occurrences leading to it. An event regrettable to all, a stumbling-block for not a few; for others a welcome event to make the Church appear in the light of an enemy of science. Let us now give more particulars of the merits of the case.
We have before us two decisions of Roman Tribunals: the Index decree of 1616, announcing the rejection of the Copernican doctrine and prohibiting books maintaining it, and the conviction of Galileo in 1633 by the Congregation of the Inquisition. It is freely admitted that these Roman Tribunals committed an error in advocating an interpretation of the Bible which was false in itself, and is to-day recognized as false.
Well, does this confute the infallibility of the Church? It does not. The matter in point is merely an error of the Congregations, of bodies of Cardinals, who were responsible for the transactions and decisions. The Congregations, however, are not infallible organs. There is no Bull or Papal decree designating the Copernican doctrine as false, much less is there extant a decision ex cathedra. Neither in 1616 nor in 1633, nor at any other time, has the Holy See ever manifested its intention of declaring, by a peremptory, dogmatic decision, the new system to be against Scripture.
It was thus the general understanding of that age that in the present case there was no irrevocable dogmatic decision given. For instance, the Jesuit Riccioli, wrote not long after the decision: “Inasmuch as no dogmatic decision was rendered in this case, neither on the part of the Pope nor on the part of a Council ruled by the Pope and acknowledged by him, it is not made, by virtue of that decree of the Congregation, a doctrine of faith that the sun is moving and the earth standing still, but at most it is a doctrine for those who by reason of Holy Writ seem to be morally certain that God has so revealed it. Yet every Catholic is bound by virtue of obedience to conform to the decree of the Congregation, or at least not to teach what is directly opposed to it” (Almagestum novum, 1651, 162). Descartes, Gassendi, and others of that time expressed themselves similarly (Grisar, 165, seq.). There is an interesting letter of the Protestant philosopher Leibnitz, written to the Landgrave Ernest of Hessia, 1688, begging him to work for the repeal of the condemnation of the Copernican theory, because of the growing verification of this theory: “If the Congregation would change its censure, or mitigate it, as one issued hastily at a time when the proofs for the correctness of the Copernican theory were not yet clear enough, this step could not detract from the authority of the Congregation, much less of the Church, because the Pope had no part in it. There is no judicial authority which has not at times reformed its own decisions.”