Galileo's Lost Message

by D. Allen Henry

  "Well, we shall deal with that when it happens, eh, Vincenzo?"

  Sensing that the Great Man was feeling better today, Vincenzo hazarded a question, "So, how are you feeling today, Professore? Has your pain subsided?"

  "Yes, I believe that it is better today, but just to be safe, I believe that I shall stay here in bed for a while yet just to be certain."

  "Yes, sir. Shall I prepare something for you to eat, then?"

  "Why yes, that would be nice, Vincenzo. And a cup of tea, if you please."

  "Yes, sir. Er, Professore, you have a visitor this morning."

  "A visitor? Is it my son?"

  "No sir, an Englishman, his name is Milton - John Milton. He looks to be about thirty years of age. He says that he was educated at Cambridge."

  "Milton? Do I know him?"

  "No sir, I believe not. He says that you have never met."

  "Hmmmm, does he have permission from the Holy See to visit me?"

  "Yes, sir, he has a letter of transmittal from the Grand Duke."

  "Well then, he must be someone important. Otherwise, The Holy See would not permit it. I suppose that I must see him. Please, Vincenzo, bring him to me, and bring him some tea as well."

  Vincenzo returned a few minutes later carrying a tray, followed by a young man. As Galileo could hear dual footsteps, he thrust out his hands as the pair approached his bed and said in Latin, "Ah, so here we have Mr. John Milton. Sir, it is a great pleasure. I have of course heard of you."

  "Thank you," Milton replied in perfect Italian. "Sir, the honor is mine. I am truly honored to meet The Starry Messenger, indeed the finest mind of our time," and he cupped Galileo's hands between his own, bowing as he did so.

  At this supplication Galileo grinned broadly and, accepting the young man's accolade pleasantly, he responded, "He has a firm grip, Vincenzo! And his Italian is perfect. We have a highly educated guest all the way from England. It is indeed a beautiful day! Come, Mr. Milton, please sit down."

  Milton did as instructed, saying, "Thank you, sir."

  "And what brings you to Italy, young man? Surely you did not come all this way to see this tired old man!" and he was smiling as he said this.

  Milton smiled in return, responding, "I suppose I could say that, but I believe that would seem far-fetched. Let us say that my journey has many objectives, not the least of which is accomplished on this day."

  "Well said, my dear Mr. Milton. Spoken like a man of letters, perhaps even a philosopher, but I believe that I detect within the strong temper of your voice the sound of a poet. Tell me, do I strike close to the mark, Mr. Milton?"

  "Why sir, that is remarkable. I should hope so. I should dearly hope to acquire that title someday, but for the time being, let us say that I am merely a young traveler seeking truth."

  "Ah, truth, there is a fickle talisman if ever there was one, my dear Mr. Milton."

  Milton smiled at Galileo, then becoming serious, he exclaimed, "Sir, may I say how sorry I am that fate has dealt you so unfairly, as your recent book, completed under the direst of circumstances, is indeed a beacon for the world to admire. Rest assured that in my country your achievements are greatly revered, and your unfair treatment reviled universally."

  Still smiling, Galileo now replied circumspectly, "Thank you, my son. Kinder words were never spoken to me. Your words flow over me like a salve that soothes the wounds of time. As I hasten towards the finale of my life, I have many personal regrets, but nary a one in the realm of science. It is comforting to know that someone, somewhere, appreciates my successes, however small."

  The two hit it off ever so convivially. The day was a joy for the Great Man, being perhaps the ultimate time in his life that he experienced the challenge of an intellect comparable to his own. Unfortunately, as is so often the case when one enjoys oneself, the time passes all too quickly. Such was the result on this occasion.

  And when it came time for Milton to depart, wearied by the meeting, Galileo was nonetheless buoyed by the interaction, saying, "My dear Mr. Milton, I see great things in your future. I wish you well in your journey, and I hope that you shall remember this tired old man with happiness in future."

  "Sir, it has been a most profound day for me as well. And rest assured - the profit is all mine. I shall not only remember, but I shall revere our meeting so long as there is breathe within my soul."

  "And I, too, my son...I, too."

  Milton now arose, shook Galileo's hand, and turned to depart. As he did so, Galileo could not resist one last comment. "Mr. Milton, I believe that I can entrust you with a great secret, can I not?"

  "Most assuredly, sir, most assuredly," the younger man replied.

  "Then carry this within your heart - When naught obstruct right line the stars! And may God be with you, my son." And with that, John Milton strode silently from the room.

  1997

  Antonietta found Paul ensconced within the study busily working away on some mathematical problem that was clearly quite complicated, as evidenced by the mass of crumpled and scattered pages spread randomly over the desk and adjacent floor.

  Scrutinizing one of the pages, she observed, "My goodness, we have been busy, have we not, Professore?" and at this she examined the sheet of paper carefully, querying, “What on earth is this, Professore?”

  “No, it’s not on Earth at all,” he replied vaguely.

  Ignoring his apparent condescension, she asked, “What, pray tell, is it then?”

  “It’s the orbital period of each of the planets,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it should have been obvious to anyone. And without looking up, he continued studying his calculations.

  "And do we have something to show for this gigantic mess, my dear Professore?"

  Paul glanced up absently, gazed about him at the enormous disarray, and replied sheepishly, "Oh, sorry...," punctuating his response with an apologetic grin. Scratching his unshaven face pensively, he announced, "I think that you will forgive me, Antonietta, when you hear what I have to say. But first, might I have a cup of your fabulous Italian coffee? Perhaps a double shot?"

  Antonietta nodded her compliance and without a word she set off to fulfill his request. Returning minutes later, she found that he had mysteriously cleaned the mess away and now held a single sheet of paper, along with the pieces of Galileo's puzzle.

  "So, have you figured out the solar system, Professore?" she asked glibly.

  “Yes, of course, Contessa,” he replied with a smile, “To put it in a nutshell, our Galileo seems to have forecast the end of time as we know it.”

  Nearly dropping her coffee at this inconceivable revelation, she spluttered, “What?" But quickly regaining her composure, she asked in complete amazement, "What are you saying, Paulo? Was our Galileo out of his mind? Was he senile? Have we wasted our time with all of this?”

  "No, not at all," he replied sunnily. "His approach to the problem was quite scientific, and ingenious, if I may say so myself. And while his conclusion is suspect, it is nonetheless unsurprising given the enormity of his discovery."

  "And what might that be?"

  "Well, it will take some explaining, but basically, using astronomy and astrology together, Galileo seems to have concluded that The Leaning Tower of Pisa will fall on the same day that the Universe will end. Or maybe it's just the Galaxy, or maybe it’s only Earth itself, but I doubt that it makes the slightest difference to the inhabitants of this planet."

  Antonietta's face drained of all color, and, grabbing her throat in fear, she appeared unable to utter a single word.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be too concerned,” Paul interjected, “The scientists in Galileo’s day all thought that they were prophets. Newton was the most outrageous of all. He predicted that the world would end in 2060. At any rate, we’ll either be dead or very old when the end comes, even if Galileo is correct.”

  “When did he say the world would end?”

  “July 25, 2034, at 8 P.M. GMT. Actually, I added the time of day. Nice
touch, don’t you think?” he posited with a ludicrous grin.

  Ignoring his absurd addendum, she stated with equal absurdity, “Well, I’m going on a cruise or something on that day, that is, if I’m still around then!”

  They both laughed at this somewhat airy statement, Paul querying inanely, “Can I come with you?”

  Ignoring the innuendo, Antonietta asked pensively, “So how did you come up with all of this, Professore?”

  “It’s really very simple when you understand the message. It’s all in the poem, but it is somewhat intricate until you understand it.”

  "So tell me, my Professore...tell me everything."

  "Alright. I was stumped, as you know, but last night I decided to read back over the poem carefully. I discovered that we had made an error in translation, or actually, we just misread Viviano's handwriting. Our mistake is in the last line, ' Dear Lord embrace this lamb forsaken'. The key here is that the Italian for this lamb is ‘questo agnello’, whereas the Italian for these lambs is ‘questi agnelli’. The only difference is the letter o is changed to an i on the ending of both words. Now, look at the poem. Are those o’s, or are they i’s?”

  “They look like o’s to me.”

  “Look at the other i’s in the poem.”

  “Oh, I see what you mean, Paulo. None of the i’s are dotted. Oh, my, I believe that you are right. These are i’s, not o's. Ergo, the last line of the poem should read ‘Dear Lord embrace these lambs forsaken.” She stood back, the significance sinking in. “Dio mio, Paulo,, tis not a prayer for himself at the end of his life - tis a prophecy for all mankind!”

  “Esattamente!” Paul exclaimed.

  Suddenly, Antonietta could feel an enormous lump filling the back of her throat. It seemed to be caused by a mixture of excitement and fear. Either way, the anticipation was intoxicating. "Oh, my God, Paul. It's a prophecy." Continuing, she asked, "How on earth did you figure out the date?"

  "That, my dear contessa, was a MAJOR challenge. That is why I haven't slept much lately. You see, the words selfsame day kept buzzing around in my head. I kept thinking that the map was a prediction as well. And suddenly I realized that when I started relating it to stars I was much more correct than I had intended. The map is actually three things all connected together, and it's explained in the poem. One only need read it carefully, very carefully. The fifth stanza says the following:

  The end result – a time

  Placed squarely within his sign

  The time of Christ plus M signed twice

  Add X’s three and I four more.

  "The third and fourth lines clearly state MMXXXIIII, which is 2034, as we already know. Note that the first line says ‘end result -a time'. So 2034 is the year he speaks of – the end of time. And it refers to both The Leaning Tower and the second event. Now carefully read the second line of the stanza - 'Placed squarely within his sign'. Who is it referring to when it says his, Antonietta?"

  "Oh, my goodness, it refers to the last line of the previous stanza - 'image of the blind'. The blind is clearly Galileo himself. Therefore, his sign must mean 'Starry Messenger's sign'!"

  "Right-o!" Paul replied.

  "It's his astrological sign, isn't it, Paulo!"

  "Right again!"

  "And we already know that his astrological sign is Aquarius," she replied. "Weird," she continued, "Isn't this supposed to be the Age of Aquarius?"

  "Good question. I've done a little bit of research on that, and it seems that most experts think that the Age of Aquarius started about twenty years ago, around 1976. But it's a bit up in the air, so to speak."

  "Why, Paulo?"

  "Well, it's really just a definition of sorts – by astrological agreement the age for a particular constellation commences when the sun intersects that constellation at the vernal equinox. This occurs due to the Earth’s precession, or wobble on its axis, which has a period of about 26,000 years. Since all of the constellations lie more or less in the plane of the ecliptic, sooner or later, due to the earth's precession, they all get their turn, and because there are twelve constellations each one gets somewhat more than two thousand years. So I suppose that we are now in the Age of Aquarius."

  "Why is there doubt about that?"

  "Well, astrologers can't seem to agree on whether or not to include the water pail in the constellation of Aquarius, and for that reason, there is some disagreement over when the Age of Aquarius is to begin. It's all neither here nor there, because in the time of Galileo it was agreed that the Age of Aquarius would begin in the middle of the twentieth century, and, where the prediction is concerned, it's his view that counts."

  "Go on," she coaxed.

  "Alright, here is the map of the constellation Aquarius that I showed you before."

  Antonietta stared at it for a few seconds, subsequently mumbling tersely, "I don't get it."

  "There's no reason that you should. I had more time to sort it out, but I had looked at Galileo's map of the solar system longer, so I had the answer quickly. So look again at the solar system map."

  She did so, but she was still confused. Seeing her confusion, Paul now added, "Imagine it without the circles - just the X's."

  "We already went through this. The stars look like a map of the places Galileo lived," she replied.

  We’re not talking about stars or cities now, Contessa. We’re talking about planets,” at which point he placed a sheet of paper before her.

  Crossing herself in surprise, she exclaimed, “Mio Dio, what can it mean, Professore?”

  "It means that Galileo expected the planets to align in the exact same configuration as the stars in Aquarius at some time in the future, and that time is projected by him to be in the year 2034. And note that the whole point of the long stanza was to provide the order in which to align the planets so as to match the order of the places that he lived."

  "Really, what a bizarre coincidence if it were true."

  "Oh, but it is! I assure you that it is, my dear. I stayed up the entire night doing the calculations. Our Galileo correctly predicted that the planets would be aligned this way in the year 2034, in the month of July more precisely. Actually, by my reckoning, exactly July 25 of the year 2034.”

  "But how could he have known that, Paulo?"

  "Oh, it wouldn't have been that difficult for one so smart as Galileo. He knew from Tycho Brahe's observations the time it took for each planet to revolve around the sun. He knew from his own observations where they all were at any given time, so all he had to do was extrapolate forward in time. Well, with one exception - Neptune. I have no idea how he did it, but he seems to have discovered Uranus instead of Neptune. Normally, that would seem to be quite impressive, but with what we have been informed by our Galileo in the last three weeks, it seems to be just one more small detail. You see, I thought that the seventh planet on the map was Neptune, which we know that he observed in 1611. But when I did the calculations, it didn’t fit. The planet that fits the calculations using the orbits listed on this piece of paper indicates that the seventh planet that he was referring to was Uranus. So, small wonder, our Galileo seems to have surreptitiously discovered the planet Uranus rather than the heretofore supposed Neptune. And he had to figure out the orbital period of Uranus completely on his own because he was the only person who was aware of its existence. He must have done all of this before he went blind, between 1634 and 1638. Furthermore, it is likely that he was following Uranus for several years, at least a decade I would say, because its orbit is quite slow, so it would have taken a fairly long time to establish its orbital period accurately, which he seems to have accomplished extremely well.

  "So what we know is that the places that Galileo lived align with the planets on July 25, 2034, and that both align with the Constellation Aquarius in the Age of Aquarius on that date. We also know that Galileo predicted that the Leaning Tower would fall on the same day. That's a quite unusual set of coincidences, perhaps enough to make Galileo think that something strange was go
ing on. After all, the man did have a towering ego. So, is it so far-fetched for Galileo to have believed that he was a prophet, and that his prophesy was related to his own lifetime events?"

  Shaking her head in disbelief, she replied, “This is way too much for me to handle all at once, Professore.”

  Suppressing a wry grin, he agreed, “You’re telling me!”

  “Is this it then? Is this the end of the puzzle, Professore?”

  “Yes, I think so, except for one detail…yes, I think that this is it, the end of the game, Contessa.”

  Antonietta stood, walked over to the window, gazed out at the garden for a moment, then asked absently, “What on earth are we to do with it, Professore?”

  “That, Contessa,” he replied softly, “Is a very good question.”

  “What is the small detail, Professore?”

  “That would be the eighth stanza. I’ve been unable to sort it out, and I doubt that we ever will.”

  “What have you discerned from it so far, Paulo?”

  “Well, it clearly refers to John Milton, who as we know visited Galileo in 1638. Apparently, Galileo gave him a message, as evidenced by the line ‘Doth harbor one within the heart’. That seems pretty clear to me – Galileo gave Milton a message. The million dollar question is – what was it, and what did Milton do with it?”

  London - 1673

  John Milton sat quietly in his London library, listening to the pleasant noises penetrating from the street outside. The library was sumptuous and large, and it was decorated with thousands of books. Anyone who saw it would have expected just such a collection for a man of his renown. Unfortunately, his blindness had prohibited him from availing himself of its treasures for many years.

  There came a soft knock at the door, at which Milton called sonorously, "Enter!"

  The door opened and an elderly man dressed in a black suit entered. "Sir, you have a visitor."