Galileo's Daughter

by Dava Sobel

  But because I know, Sire, that you cannot, on the basis of a simple word from me, make such a demand, without hearing from others more experienced in such matters, you can look for a way, when you come here, to broach the question with Madonna, to try to get a sense of her feelings on the matter, and also to discuss it with any of the more elderly mothers, without, of course, exposing your reasons for mentioning such things. And please breathe not a word of this to Master Benedetto [her uncle, the father of Suor Chiara], since he would undoubtedly divulge it to Suor Chiara, who would then spread it among the other nuns, and thus ruin us, because it is impossible for so many brains to be of one mind; and as a consequence the actions of a single person who might be particularly displeased by this idea could thwart our efforts. Surely it would be wrong to let two or three individuals deprive everyone in the group of all the benefits, both spiritual and practical, that could accrue from the success of this plan.

  Now it is up to you, Sire, with your sound judgment, to which we appeal, to determine whether you deem it appropriate to pose our entreaty, and how best to present it so as to achieve the desired end most easily; since, as far as I am concerned, our petition seems entirely legitimate, and all the more so for our being in such dire straits.

  I made it a point to write to you today, Sire, as this is rather a quiet time, and I think the right time for you to come to us, before things get stirred up again, so that you can see for yourself what may need to be done in respecting the stature of the older nuns, as I have already explained.

  Because I fear imposing on you too heavily, I will leave off writing here, saving all the other things to tell you later in person. Today we expect a visit from Monsignor Vicar, who is coming to attend the election of the new Abbess. May it please God to see the one who bends most to His will elected to this post, and may He grant you, Sire, an abundance of His holy grace.

  FROM SAN MATTEO, THE 10TH DAY OF DECEMBER 1623.

  Most affectionate daughter,

  S.M.Coloste

  The first and foremost motive, which drives us to make this plea, is the clear recognition and awareness of how these priests’ paltry knowledge or understanding of the orders and obligations that are part of our religious life, allow us, or, to say it better, tempt us to live ever more loosely, with scant observance of our Rule; and how can one doubt that once we begin to live without fear of God, we will be subject to continual misery with regard to the temporal matters of this world? Therefore we must address the primary cause, which is this one that I have just told you.

  A second problem is that, since our convent finds itself in poverty, as you know, Sire, it cannot satisfy the confessors, who leave every three years, by giving them their salary before they go: I happen to know that three of those who were here are owed quite a large sum of money, and they use this debt as occasion to come here often to dine with us, and to fraternize with several of the nuns; and, what is worse, they then carry us in their mouths, spreading rumors and gossiping about us wherever they go, to the point where our convent is considered the concubine of the whole Casentino region, whence come these confessors of ours, more suited to hunting rabbits than guiding souls. And believe me, Sire, if I wanted to tell you all the blunders committed by the one we have with us now, I would never come to the bottom of the list, because they are as numerous as they are incredible.

  The third thing will be that a Regular must never be so ignorant that he does not know much more than one of these types, or if he does not know, at least he will not flee the convent, as has been the constant practice of our priests here, on the occasion of any little happenstance, to seek advice from the bishopric or elsewhere, as though that were any way to comport oneself or counsel others; but rather he will consult some learned father of his own Order. And in this fashion our affairs will be known in only one convent, and not all over Florence, as they are now. More than this, if he has gained nothing else from his own experience, he will well understand the boundaries that a Brother must respect between himself and the nuns, in order for them to live as quietly as possible; whereas a priest who comes here without having, so to speak, knowledge of nuns, may complete the whole designated three years of his required stay without ever learning our obligations and Rule.

  We are not really requesting fathers of one religious order in preference over another, trusting ourselves to the judgment of he who will obtain and grant us such a favor. It is very true that the Reformed Carmelites of Santa Maria Maggiore, who have come here many times as special confessors, have served us most satisfactorily in the offices we are prohibited from performing ourselves; and I believe that they would better conform to our need. First, being themselves very devout fathers and highly esteemed; and moreover, because they do not covet fancy gifts, nor concern themselves (being well accustomed to poverty) with a grandiose lifestyle, as members of some other Orders have sought here; certain priests sent to us as confessors spent the whole three years serving only their own interests, and the more they could wring out of us, the more skillful they considered themselves.

  But, without straining to make further allegations, Sire, I urge you to judge for yourself the conditions at other convents, such as San Jacopo and Santa Monaca, now that they have come under the influence of Brothers who took steps to set them on the proper path.

  We are by no means asking to shirk the obedience of our Order, but only to be administered the Sacraments and governed by persons of experience, who appreciate the true significance of their calling.

  Legend held that Mother Clare often chanted Sext and None, which commemorate the crucifixion and death of Jesus, in tears. Her daughters at San Matteo followed these offices with prayers of gratitude for the convent’s benefactors, and then filed two by two, still singing, to the refectory. There the nun whose turn it was to read aloud at dinner regaled her sisters with stories from the lives of the saints, though not for long, as it took only a few minutes to finish the scant fare, usually broth and a vegetable, before returning to their prayers.

  At Vespers in the early afternoon, the nuns knelt in the choir stalls, listening to the bells ring evensong. Another bell, the capitolo, rang soon afterward, during what would normally have been another period of silent work, calling them to chapter for the election that saw Suor Ortensia del Nente, the convent’s expert lace maker, inaugurated as their new mother abbess.

  The one elected should reflect upon what kind of burden she has taken up and to whom an account of the flock entrusted to her is to be rendered. She should also strive to lead the way for the others more by virtue and a holy way of acting than by her office so that roused by her example the Sisters might obey her more out of love than out of fear, [RULE OF SAINT CLARE, chapter IV]

  The founding Clare, in contrast, had headed San Damiano all her days. These passed mostly in quiet reverence, memorably broken by an invasion of mercenary soldiers in September of 1240, during which skirmish Clare, who had been bedridden by illness for six years, stood up with the assistance of two nuns and drove out the enemy by the power of her prayers. Clare’s canonization in 1255 resulted partly from this act of valor, as well as one supporting nun’s eyewitness testimony under oath that God had spoken to Clare—"I will guard you always and defend you,” He said—while the Saracens scaled the walls of San Damiano, and partly on the basis of miracles following her death as signs of her sanctity. Pilgrims brought to Clare’s tomb were variously cured there of epilepsy, paralysis, withered limbs, hunchback, dementia, madness, and blindness.

  I bless you during my life and after my death as much as I am able and even more than I am able, with all the blessings by which the Father of mercies has blessed and will bless his spiritual sons and daughters in Heaven and on Earth. Amen, [BLESSING OF SAINT CLARE]

  The days at San Matteo drew to a close during evening meditation, after the hymn and the Rosary, in solitude. Then all the nuns fell to their knees and fully prostrate on the floor to beg each other’s forgiveness for any pain one sister might i
nadvertently have caused another through all the preceding hours.

  At Compline they convened chorally once more in the gathering darkness, as each nun prepared to meet her holy bridegroom or her death—whichever the Great Silence held in store for her this night.

  [XII]

  Because of

  our zeal

  In the spring of 1624, after the cold rain stopped falling and the roads again became passable, Galileo set out at last for the Vatican. On April 1, he left Florence in a horse-drawn litter lent him for the occasion by the thirteen-year-old grand duke of Tuscany, Ferdinando II. Although Galileo still enjoyed the privileges of his ties to the Pitti Palace and continued to draw his stipend from the University of Pisa as the Medici family’s chief mathematician and philosopher, none of these conditions prohibited his courting the greater favor of the new pope. It could even be argued that Galileo required the pope’s aegis, in order to guarantee the loyalty of Ferdinando’s pious female regents, Madama Cristina and Archduchess Maria Maddalena.

  En route to Rome, Galileo stopped for two weeks in Acquasparta as the guest of his friend and patron Prince Cesi, whom he hadn’t seen in eight years. Cesi preferred to spend as much time as possible at his country estate, where he happily devoted himself to botany, writing, and the compilation of his encyclopedia of natural history—the crowning (though ever unfinished) work of the Lyncean Academy.

  Prince Federico Cesi

  Prince Cesi naturally anticipated publishing Galileo’s own new book project—the one about the system and composition of the universe—the one the court philosopher had dreamed on and off of writing since his first telescopic observations in Padua some fifteen years before. The Edict of 1616 had all but killed the idea until now, when the vibrance of Rome’s new order promised unprecedented intellectual freedom. First, of course, Galileo had to broach the proposal with Pope Urban and gauge his response to its content. Prince Cesi had specifically invited Galileo to his home outside Rome to prepare him for that audience, so Galileo could reach the Vatican “not in the dark but well informed as to what might be necessary” in returning to the subject of Copernicus.

  Even as Prince Cesi and Galileo discussed these prospects, news from Rome on April 11 dampened their spirits: Virginio Cesarini, the prince’s cousin and their fellow Lyncean Academician, immortalized as the addressee of The Assayer, had died at twenty-seven of tuberculosis.

  MOST ILLUSTRIOUS AND BELOVED LORD FATHER

  WHAT GREAT HAPPINESS was delivered here, Sire, along with the news (via the letter that you ordered sent to Master Benedetto [Landucci]) of the safe progress of your journey as far as Acquasparta, and for all of this we offer thanks to God, Master of all. We are also delighted to learn of the favors you received from Prince Cesi, and we hope to have even greater occasion for rejoicing when we hear tell of your arrival in Rome, Sire, where persons of grand stature most eagerly await you, even though I know that your joy must be tainted with considerable sorrow, on account of the sudden death of Signor Don Virginio Cesarini, so esteemed and so loved by you. I, too, have been saddened by his passing, thinking only of the grief that you must endure, Sire, for the loss of such a dear friend, just when you stood on the verge of soon seeing him again; surely this event gives us occasion to reflect on the falsity and vanity of all hopes tied to this wretched world.

  But, because I would not have you think, Sire, that I want to sermonize by letter, I will say no more, except to let you know how we fare, for I can tell you that everyone here is very well indeed, and all the nuns send you their loving regards. As for myself I pray that our Lord grant you the fulfillment of your every just desire.

  FROM SAN MATTEO, THE 26TH DAY OF APRIL 1624.

  Most affectionate daughter,

  S.M.Coloste

  This is the only letter of Suor Maria Celeste’s that Galileo salvaged from the tumult of 1624. More than a year separates it from the next in his collection, so that her response to his intercession with the pope on San Matteo’s behalf is lost in the lacuna. (That Galileo petitioned effectively, however, is borne out by later letters that mention “our Father Confessor” in complete comfort, as someone who sends regards to Galileo, even watches Galileo’s house for him when he is out of town, and once asks for help settling some personal business in Rome.)

  Galileo rode into Rome on April 23. The following day, Pope Urban received him congenially in a private audience for the first time—and then five more times in as many weeks over the course of Galileo’s stay. The old friends strolled through the Vatican Gardens for an hour at a time, treating all the topics Galileo had hoped to discuss with His Holiness.

  Although no one recorded the content of Galileo’s springtime sessions with Urban in 1624, there can be little doubt they assessed the fallout from the momentous decree that had dominated their last days together. Many Italian scientists felt their hands tied by the Edict of 1616. Outside Italy, however, few heeded the anti-Copernican ruling. As Galileo probably knew from his correspondents across Europe, no astronomer in France, Spain, Germany, or England had even bothered to make the required corrections to De revolutionibus published in 1620. In a sense, the edict had made Italy lose face among scientists abroad. There were rumors, too—to make Urban wince—of Germans on the verge of converting to Catholicism who backed away because of the edict.

  Engraving of Galileo at age sixty, by Ottavio Leoni

  Urban, now more than halfway through the first year of his pontificate, was proud to say he had never supported that decree, and that it would not have seen the light had he been pope in those days. As a cardinal, he had successfully intervened, along with his colleague Bonifazio Cardinal Caetani, to keep “heresy” out of the edict’s final wording. Thus, although the consultors to the Holy Office had called the immobility of the Sun “formally heretical” in their February 1616 report, the March 5 edict merely stated that the doctrine was “false” and “contrary to Holy Scripture.”

  Why had Maffeo Barberini, a man with no vested interest in the Sun-centered universe, taken such action? His admiration for Galileo could well have figured in his thinking. But he no doubt had other reasons, too. Both Cardinal Barberini and Cardinal Caetani, having studied some astronomy, distinguished themselves from theologians who never looked up to Heaven except to pray. Neither cardinal believed in the physical reality of the heliocentric universe, of course, but they recognized its merit as a way of thinking about cosmology. They also valued De revolutionibus itself as a mathematical tour de force, and they wanted to preserve the intellectual freedom of Catholic scholars to read it—pending certain revisions. (Cardinal Caetani argued so strongly in favor of the book, in fact, that he was later chosen as the one to amend it.)

  The eight years since the edict had not swayed Urban from his position on Copernicus. He still saw no harm in using the Copernican system as a tool for astronomical calculations and predictions. The Sun-centered universe remained merely an unproven idea—without, Urban felt certain, any prospect of proof in the future. Therefore, if Galileo wished to apply his science and his eloquence to a consideration of Copernican doctrine, he could proceed with the pope’s blessing, so long as he labeled the system a hypothesis.

  By the time Galileo started back to Florence on June 8, he had secured not only the promise of a pension for Vincenzio and redress for San Matteo, but a personal letter from Urban to young Ferdinando, in which the pope lauded the grand duke’s premier philosopher: “We embrace with paternal love this great man whose fame shines in the heavens and goes on Earth far and wide.”

  All these favorable words and gestures heartened Galileo, convinced him that he could indeed resume his public musings about an Earth in motion about the Sun. Before attempting the book-length tome, however, Galileo decided to write something along its lines as a trial run, by replying to an anti-Copernican treatise that had circulated through Rome since 1616. Though unpublished, the still uncontested comments of Monsignor Francesco Ingoli, secretary of the Congregation of the Pro
pagation of the Faith, seemed to beg for a response—especially as these comments had originated in a debate with Galileo.

  In 1616, during Galileo’s aggressive Copernican campaign in Rome, he had staged one of his evening disputes against the very same Ingoli. Afterward, the two of them agreed to write down their respective positions. No sooner had Ingoli done his half, however, than the Edict of 1616 intruded, leaving the written phase of the contest incomplete. Even now, Galileo hesitated to take on a man like Ingoli, who had based many of his points on theology instead of astronomy. However, he began drafting the ticklish response immediately upon his return to Bellosguardo.

  “Eight years have already passed, Signor Ingoli,” Galileo began, “since while in Rome I received from you an essay written almost in the form of a letter addressed to me. In it you tried to demonstrate the falsity of the Copernican hypothesis, concerning which there was much turmoil at that time.”

  Having refreshed Ingoli’s memory of the events, Galileo excused his own silence as the only appropriate response to the weakness of Ingoli’s arguments. Galileo could have swatted these away in a single blow—except, of course, the theological ones— but he simply hadn’t bothered to refute Ingoli because he deemed the effort a waste of time and breath.