Eventually completing his discourse, the elder Galilei turned to lead his sons to the entrance to the duomo. Halting at the stairway, he announced, “Now boys, be careful, and follow your brother Galileo,” but Galileo was already noisily scampering up the stairway.
1997
Paul and Antonietta deposited the Alfa in the parking garage across from the central train station. From there they walked, and as they rounded the corner on the Via Panzani the cathedral came into view amidst the mid-day bustle of the cramped city center of Firenze.
Paul abruptly gasped at the site of the portico of the Santa Maria del Fiori, exclaiming, “It never ceases to take my breath away!”
“It is magnificent, isn’t it,” Antonietta responded matter-of-factly.
“Words cannot express my feelings for that dome,” Paul responded as they paced hurriedly towards it. “It is one of the great structures on earth, and I am a structures guy. For me, it is an altar of worship. As far as I am concerned the dome is the very symbol of the Renaissance.”
“We Italiani are quite proud of it, you know, Paulo,” she responded breathlessly.
“As you should be, Contessa, as you should be. That dome ushered in modern technology.”
“I knew it was important, but coming from you, an engineer, it seems to mean even more. Please tell me why, Professore.”
“Of course, but first we must climb the dome, Antonietta.”
“Climb the dome! Why on earth would we do that? Only tourists do that!”
“Not quite, my dear. Only tourists - and us!” he responded with glee. As they entered the square he continued his soliloquy, “Brunelleschi was kind of a failure, you see, having lost out on the Baptistery doors right over there to Ghiberti,” and he pointed to the famous doors as they passed by them. “But when the competition for the dome was announced, Brunelleschi built a scale model from bricks without the use of scaffolding. Thus, impressed, the Signoria awarded the contract to Brunelleschi in 1418." By this point the pair had arrived at the entrance to the dome.
Entering the stairwell, they began the long climb to the top of the lantern. Halfway to the top, they stopped in an alcove to catch their breath. Paul took the opportunity to explain that the implements in the alcove were the actual tools designed by Brunelleschi to build the dome. “You have to understand, it was an unprecedented amount of stone that had to be raised to the top of the cathedral in order to construct the dome. And the double herringbone supported dome within a dome was shear genius.”
“Two domes?” Antonietta asked.
“Yes, one within the other, built both for egress and structural support. You will see, Antonietta, very shortly you will see,” and with that he continued the assent.
“So exactly what is the principle of a dome, Paulo?” Antonietta asked, already huffing yet again.
“Hoop stress, Contessa, hoop stress,” he responded breathlessly.
“What’s that?” she asked with obvious dismay.
“To understand that you would have to be a structural engineer. Suffice it to say that our Signore Brunelleschi understood this principle despite the fact that it was not explained with scientific rigor until the mid-nineteenth century. The man was clearly a genius – well ahead of his time. I suspect that Galileo would be numbered among his admirers, having spent much of his life in this city, and studied, enunciated, and ultimately invented the science of mechanics, he would most assuredly have been a fan of Brunelleschi. And with that, let us finish our pilgrimage to the top of the dome. Moments later they emerged onto the deck of the lantern, where they were presented with the best view in all of Firenze.
“Oh, my…” Antonietta exclaimed, completely overwhelmed by the scene before her. “I see what you were talking about, Paulo. This is absolutely incredible! It’s even better than the view from the Piazza Michelangelo near Arcetri.”
“Now we must go visit Signore Brunelleschi,” he responded. “He is beneath the cathedral. Shall we?” They forthwith began the descent, reaching ground level inside the cathedral in considerably less time than their ascent had taken.
Once inside the cathedral Antonietta first walked to the intersection of the nave and the transept and, peering skyward, she announced, “I can’t believe we were just up there. And where is he, Paulo - Brunelleschi? We must go pay our respects.”
“Absolutely, Antonietta. This way, please.” He led her to a stairway close to the entrance on the right side of the nave, summarily descending them to the basement. There was a bust of Brunelleschi, and one could see his tomb within. But no clue jumped out at either Paul or Antonietta.
Eventually, Paul proffered disconsolately, “I’m afraid it’s a dead end Antonietta. There just isn’t enough contained in the message. I feel certain that we have the right location, but I see nothing of any use here. We will most likely have to visit other places indicated in the poem before we discover the hidden meaning.”
He stood for a moment pondering what to do next, but then abruptly suggested, “Listen, since we’re here, why don’t we go see Galileo’s tomb as well? And let’s stop by the Science Museum. Perhaps one or the other will give us a spark of revelation. Okay?”
“Sure,” she replied, and off they went to the Cathedral of Santa Croce.
1610
Galileo strode confidently across the Ponte Vecchio. His dream had become a reality. Within the space of a few short months he had gone from mere professore to one of the most famous people on Earth, and it was all because of his development of the telescope, furthered by his amazing discoveries in the heavens above. It had all happened so quickly, followed shortly thereafter by his publication of The Starry Messenger the following spring.
To think, only a year earlier he had been struggling to make ends meet. Now he was the court Scientist for The Grand Duke of Tuscany, and living once again in Firenze, the most fabulous city on Earth, with a lifetime income of a thousand florins a year. His dreams had come true, and now he could pursue his greatest passion of all - a world of scientific discoveries yet to come.
On this day he knew exactly where he was headed – to the Santa Croce. It had been several years since he had visited his father’s tomb but for the first time in his life he felt that he could face his father as an equal. Stepping inside the basilica, he walked directly to the tomb near the front door in the left aisle. His father’s tomb was not particularly impressive, but it was nonetheless within the Santa Croce, and that in and of itself was better than most. He stood for a moment gazing at the tomb, thenceforth kneeling to pray for his father’s soul.
After a few moments he rose to leave, but something attracted him to turn and view the magnificent tomb of Michelangelo, and adjacent to it the unfilled tomb of Dante. Gazing at the tombs of these two great men, Galileo wondered idly if it might be possible for his remains to be someday placed within the Santa Croce. Perhaps now, with his newfound fame, it was just within the realm of possibility. But that was far in the future. There was so much to do before such an honor might be bestowed upon him.
1997
Paul and Antonietta stepped gingerly within the cathedral. There were the tombs of Michelangelo and Dante, and directly opposite was the magnificent tomb of Galileo.
They followed the visit to the Santa Croce with a short walk down the narrow sun-shaded streets of old Firenze. Eventually arriving at their intended destination adjacent to the Arno, Paul announced, "Here we are.”
Falling into step with him, Antonietta responded, "I never even knew where the Science Museum was, but there is the banner, right on the building.”
"Right, not much of a tourist attraction, I'm afraid," Paul replied matter-of-factly. "Let's take a look and see what we can figure out.”
Once inside they carefully studied Galileo's telescopes and the reproductions of his mechanical ramps. Paul pointed to the interior of a large glass case and explained, "And here is his finger, Antonietta."
Apparently taken aback, she said, "What sort of person wo
uld steal his finger? I ask you, Paulo…"
"No idea, probably an avaricious one," he replied succinctly, "I agree, it is somewhat macabre, but there it nonetheless is for the world to see. In Siena you can see the head of Santa Caterina. Chopin is buried in Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, but his heart is buried in Poland. Something similar was done to Robert the Bruce in Scotland. And I could go on. The relics of saints, meaning body parts, are to be found in basilicas all across Western Europe. There seems to have been a certain inexplicable attraction to the remains of departed ones in former times, and Italy was certainly no exception."
"Right. Let's get out of here, Paulo. That thing gives me the creeps!"
By the time they made an impromptu stop at a coffee shop on the Piazza della Signoria, Paul was clearly deep in thought.
Sipping her espresso, Antonietta queried introspectively, "Any ideas, Professore?"
His head planted within his hands, he replied morosely, "No...no...nothing comes to mind at all," at which the pair sat gazing silently at the passing tourists.
Abruptly rising from his chair, Paul croaked, “Wait a minute! I’ve got it! I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. It’s his telescope! Aha! Man, was he smart!,” at which point he resumed his seat.
Eyeing him in obvious confusion, she inquired, “What on earth are you talking about?”
“He hid something in one of his telescopes, Antonietta! It’s so obvious! It’s the only place he could have hidden something. He knew they would be preserved. He was no fool, that Galileo. Well, I’ll be, I’ll be a son of a gun!”
“You’ll be a what?” Antonietta asked doubtfully.
“Oh, nothing. Look at this, Antonietta," and so saying, he pulled out the copy of the poem and commanded, "Look at the fifth stanza…”
Grasp wondrous tool that saw the moon.
Turn slide round thrice and open wide,
Therein to find, the web emblazoned
Image of the blind.
“That’s his telescope! We’ve been so baffled by the long stanza that we completely overlooked this little one. And here it is, plain as day. Come on. We’re going back to the Science Museum.”
Peering quizzically at him, she exclaimed, “Surely you're not serious!”
Rising from his seat, he posited, “To the Science Museum, of course. I should think that would be quite obvious!”
Refusing to follow him, she called, “Stop it, Paulo. Wait a minute. Stop!”
At this, he drew up and turned to face her, blurting, “What!” and it was clear he was ruffled at her lack of compliance with his command.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, Professore! Do you think to waltz right in there and grab his telescopes?”
“Of course not, Contessa, I am well aware they’re under lock and key. You needn’t worry. I’m not going to steal them! But we’ll think of something.”
She pursed her lips antagonistically and, her hands planted on her hips in a clear-cut pose of resistance, she bellowed, “Like what…I’d really like to know!”
Shaking his head impatiently, he murmured, “I don’t know…” but he nonetheless added, “Look, I remember one time I was in there, and I was trying to take a photo of his inclined plane for my engineering class back home, and one of the room monitors stopped me. I might have heeded her, but she made a big deal out of the stupid American tourist attempting to take pictures, when there were obvious signs placed throughout the museum forbidding photography. She irritated me so much that I hung around until a family came wandering through, and I paid a kid to take a flash photo in the next room. While she was in the process of arrogantly debasing his manhood to his parents, I was taking some really nice pictures of the ramps. Still have ‘em. So you see, we’ll think of something!”
Bursting into uncontrollable laughter at this hilarious turn of events, she exclaimed, “Why, you devious truffatore, you. I had no idea you could be so sneaky! Mind you, you’re still a rank amateur compared to my former coniuge, but you seem to have a discernible streak of deceit, and once you’ve started down that road, tis a slippery slippery slope!” and though she posited this last with attempted solemnity, it was nonetheless obvious that she was struggling mightily to maintain a serious visage in the face of his exceedingly lame attempt at larceny.
Obviously affronted, he gurgled, “Deceit, blablaschmeit! This is all in the name of science, and history, for God’s sake. This is ridiculous, Antonietta!” and so saying, he turned once again and stomped off in quest of his intended destination.
Giggling at such infantile behavior, she countered in jest, “I couldn’t agree more, Paulo. I was just trying to get your goat, and mio dio, did I!”
At this he turned to stare at her and, a slow smile curling his lips upward, he replied sheepishly, “Well, score one for the contessa. Let me see, that makes it about three thousand four hundred and thirty-six to one!” and at this submission he grinned in contrived triumph.
For her part, she snorted loudly, “WhatEVER!” and so saying, she skirted past him, chin held high in mock superiority.
Unfortunately, the Science Museum was a second rate attraction in Firenze. For Paul that would have normally been a blessing, but on this occasion he would have preferred the cover of a few well-placed tourists to distract the ever vigilant security guards. On this particular day the guards actually outnumbered the visitors, and to make matters worse, they seemed doubly suspicious of the pair who were now visiting the museum on a second occasion within the selfsame day.
As it turned out, it wasn’t difficult at all. While Paul was attempting to figure out how to distract the guards, a group of boisterous Italian schoolchildren lumbered in. They appeared to be about the age of ten, and the boys fortuitously attempted to either climb onto or disassemble anything and everything within reach. Needless to say, the guards had their hands full.
Paul simply awaited the telescope room to be vacated and assigned Antonietta to stand guard at the door to the adjacent room in the event that a wayward guard appeared. He was subsequently able to jimmy the lock to the glass case that held the telescopes, and, recalling the instructions posted within Galileo’s message, he managed to open the barrel of the larger of the two. He discovered two pieces of parchment rolled up within, and seeing that the parchment appeared to be identical to the type used to compose the poem, he carefully removed them. He then quickly reassembled the telescope and replaced it in its proper position within the cabinet.
Dusting off his hands, he whispered to himself, “No harm done.” He then signaled the completion of his mission to Antonietta, whereupon he proceeded directly to the men’s restroom. Once inside, he stepped inside a stall and carefully secreted the papers within one of his socks.
That being the extremity of the slippery slope that constituted his newfound life of crime, he murmured to himself with evident satisfaction, “So be it.”
Subsequently emerging from the restroom, he commented casually to Antonietta, “Come on. Let’s get out of here before the kids leave and the guards regain their senses,” whereupon the larcenous pair beat a hasty retreat.
Arriving back at the villa, Paul exclaimed impatiently, “Come on, let’s take a look, Contessa. I can’t wait a minute longer.”
“Me either,” she rejoined, “Where are they anyway?”
“Where are what? Oh, you mean the papers. They’re in my sock,” he replied matter-of-factly, and so saying, he bent to retrieve them.
Shaking her head contemptuously, she derided, “I swear, you must have been a criminal in a former life, Professore!”
Displaying a wicked grin as he straightened, he retorted, “No need to sound so proud of me!” and, opening them, he murmured fortuitously, “Sooo, here they are. What do we have here?”
Carefully pulling the two pieces of paper apart, he observed the following:
Staring at the first drawing, Antonietta blurted in bewilderment, “What the…what on earth?”
For his part, Pau
l simply stared, silently memorizing every detail.
After several moments, she blathered, “What are they, Paulo?”
“Please, silence!” he commanded brusquely.
In the end, he took so long that she wandered off and poured herself a glass of wine. When she finally returned, he glanced at her absently and posited bluntly, “Where’s mine?”
Grimacing coldly at him, she responding, “You didn’t appear to be in need of one.”
At this he chuckled and proffered, “My dear Contessa, I am terribly sorry. I am afraid I have hurt your feelings.”
“No, you didn’t,” she denied, but it was nonetheless clear that he had been correct in his assessment.
“Please accept my apology, Antonietta. I was simply overwhelmed,” and as he said this he held his palms upwards in a gesture of supplication.
Abruptly transcending her irritation, she replied with obvious interest, "Overwhelmed? Overwhelmed by what, Professore?"
Seeing her acceptance of his apology, he announced imperiously, "We are looking at what are almost certainly the last scientific drawings of the great Galileo Galilei."
Grimacing yet again at his somewhat overwrought jubilation, she replied, “Yes, yes, I see that, of course," at which point she glanced yet again at the papers and, still clearly unimpressed, took a lingering sip of wine. The silence growing unbearable, she finally suggested, "Oh, get on with it, Professore. Tell me… what is it?”
“Both pages refer to the message, of course,” he replied succinctly.
“I gathered that, but how?”
Galileo's Lost Message Page 7
