Before the powerful mind of Copernicus ventured to question it, our earth was held to be the centre of the universe, and about it all the rest of the heavenly bodies revolved. There was but one “world,” and that was our earth; the whole firmament, infinity, was the fitting frame to the picture, upon which man, as the most perfect being, held a position which was truly sublime. It was an elevating thought that you were on the centre, the only fixed point amidst countless revolving orbs! The narrations in the Bible, and the character of the Christian religion as a whole, fitted this conception exceedingly well; or, more properly speaking, were made to fit it. The creation of man, his fall, the flood, and our second venerable ancestor, Noah, with his ark in which the continuation of races was provided for, the foundation of the Christian religion, the work of redemption;—all this could only lay claim to universal importance so long as the earth was the centre of the universe, the only world. Then all at once a learned man makes the annihilating assertion that our world was not the centre of the universe, but revolved itself, was but an insignificant part of the vast, immeasurable system of worlds. What had become of the favoured status of the earth? And this indefinite number of bodies, equally favoured by nature, were they also the abodes of men? The bare possibility of a number of inhabited worlds could but imperil the first principles of Christian philosophy.
The system of the great Copernicus, however, thanks to the anonymous preface to his famous work, “De Revolutionibus Orbium Cœlestium,” had not, up to this time, assumed to be a correct theory, but only a hypothesis, which need not be considered even probable, as it was only intended to facilitate astronomical calculations. We know now that this was a gigantic mistake, that the immortal astronomer had aimed at rectifying the Ptolemaic confusion, and was fully convinced of the correctness of his system; we know that this unprincipled Introduction is by no means to be attributed to Copernicus, but to Andreas Osiander, who took part in publishing this book, which formed so great an epoch in science, and whose anxious soul thereby desired to appease the anticipated wrath of the theologians and philosophers. And we know further that the founder of our present system of the universe, although he handled the first finished copy of his imperishable work when he was dying, was unable to look into it, being already struck by paralysis, and thus never knew of Osiander’s weak-minded Introduction, which had prudently not been submitted to him.[34]
A few days after receiving a copy of the great work of his genius, Copernicus died, on 24th May, 1543; and his system, for which he had been labouring and striving all his life, was, in consequence of Osiander’s sacrilegious act, reduced to a simple hypothesis intended to simplify astronomical calculations! As such it did not in the least endanger the faith of the Church. Even Pope Paul III., to whom Copernicus had dedicated his work, received it “with pleasure.” In 1566 a second edition appeared at Basle, and still it did not excite any opposition from the Church. It was not till 1616, when it had met with wide acceptance among the learned, when its correctness had been confirmed by fresh facts, and it had begun to be looked upon as true, that the Roman curia felt moved to condemn the work of Copernicus until it had been corrected (donec corrigantur).
Having thus rapidly glanced at the opposition between the Copernican system and the Ptolemaic, which forms the prelude to Galileo’s subsequent relations with Rome, we are at liberty to fulfil the task we have set ourselves, namely, to portray “Galileo and the Roman Curia.”
CHAPTER II.
THE TELESCOPE AND ITS REVELATIONS.
Term of Professorship at Padua renewed.—Astronomy.—A New Star.—The Telescope.—Galileo not the Inventor.—Visit to Venice to exhibit it.—Telescopic Discoveries.—Jupiter’s Moons.—Request of Henry IV.—“Sidereus Nuncius.”—The Storm it raised.—Magini’s attack on Galileo.—The Ring of Saturn.—An Anagram.—Opposition of the Aristotelian School.—Letter to Kepler.
The first six years of Galileo’s professorship at Padua had passed away, but the senate were eager to retain so bright a light for their University, and prolonged the appointment of the professor, whose renown was now great, for another six years, with a considerable increase of salary.[35]
As we have seen, he had for a long time renounced the prevailing views about the universe; but up to this time he had discussed only physical mathematical questions with the Peripatetic school, the subject of astronomy had not been mooted. But the sudden appearance of a new star in the constellation of Serpentarius, in October, 1604, which, after exhibiting various colours for a year and a half, as suddenly disappeared, induced him openly to attack one of the Aristotelian doctrines hitherto held most sacred, that of the unchangeableness of the heavens. Galileo demonstrated, in three lectures to a numerous audience, that this star was neither a mere meteor, nor yet a heavenly body which had before existed but had only now been observed, but a body which had recently appeared and had again vanished.[36] The subject, though not immediately connected with the Copernican question, was an important step taken on the dangerous and rarely trodden path of knowledge of nature, uninfluenced by dogmatism or petrified professorial wisdom. This inviolability of the vault of heaven was also conditioned by the prevailing views of the universe. What wonder then that most of the professors who had grown grey in the Aristotelian doctrine (Cremonio for instance, Coressio, Lodovico delle Colombo, and Balthasar Capra) were incensed at these opinions of Galileo, so opposed to all their scientific prepossessions, and vehemently controverted them.