"There are at least thirty thousand men yonder. They are

advancing toward us, and we shall be assailed to-morrow, or the

day after at the latest. It will be no holiday work to check

them, my boys; but if they have numbers, we have a good position,

and in such masses as those there will be no balls lost."

Having made these reflections, he measured the height of the sun,

and added:

"It is now two o'clock, and we know all we want to know. Let us

return to the bivouac."

The young men slung their rifles upon their backs, and, leaving

the valley of the Broque to the left, they pushed up the steep

ascent of Hengsbach and descended on the further side, without

following any path through the snow, but guiding themselves

solely by the peaks, to cut short their journey.

They had thus proceeded for about two hours; the winter sun was

drooping to the horizon, and night was fast approaching, but calm

and light. They had only to cross the solitary gorge of Riel,

which forms a wide circular basin in the midst of the forest,

enclosing a blue lake, often the resort of the roebuck.

Suddenly, as they left the cover of the trees, the old man

stopped short behind a clump of bushes.

"Hist!"

{312}

He pointed to the little lake, which was covered with a thin and

transparent coating of ice. A strange spectacle greeted their

eyes. Twenty Cossacks, with matted yellow beards, heads covered

with old funnel-shaped caps of the skin of some animal, and long

ragged cloaks hanging from their shoulders, were before them,

seated on their little horses. Their stirrups were simply looped

ropes, and the steeds, with long manes, thin tails, and flanks

matted with yellow, black, and white, looked not unlike goats.

Some of the riders were armed only with long lances, others with

sabres, others with merely a hatchet hanging by a cord from their

saddle, and a large horse-pistol in their belt. Some gazed with

ecstasy upon the lines of green firs, and one tall, lean fellow

was breaking the ice with the butt of his spear, while his horse

drank. Others dismounted, and began to remove the snow

preparatory to encamping.

They formed a singular picture--those men from afar, with their

bronzed features, flat foreheads and noses, and grey fluttering

rags, as they stood by the side of the lake under the tall

tree-covered crags. It seemed a glimpse of another world than the

one we live in, and as the three hunters gazed and caught the

sounds of their uncouth speech, curiosity for a while mastered

all other feelings. But Kasper and Frantz soon fixed their long

bayonets on their rifles and retired once more into the cover of

the woods. They reached a rock some twenty feet high, which

Materne climbed; then, after a few words exchanged in a low

voice, Kasper examined his priming, slowly brought his piece to

his shoulder, and aimed, while his brother stood by ready to

follow his example.

The Cossack whose horse was drinking was about two hundred paces

from our little party. The report of the rifle rang through the

forest and awoke the deep echoes of the gorge, and the horseman

bent forward and disappeared beneath the ice of the lake.

It would be impossible to describe the stupefaction which seemed

to seize the band. The echoes rolled like a volley of musketry;

the dismounted barbarians bounded on their steeds, gazing wildly

around, while a thick wreath of smoke rolled above the clump of

trees behind which the hunters stood.

Kasper had in a moment reloaded, but at the same instant the

Cossacks dashed toward the slope of Hartz, following in single

file and shouting savagely, "Hurrah! Hurrah!"

They disappeared like a flash, and as Kasper aimed again the last

horse disappeared in the woods.

The steed of the dead Cossack stood alone by the lake. His fallen

master's foot yet remained in the stirrup, although the body was

submerged in the water.

Materne listened on his rock, and then said joyfully:

"They are gone! Let us press on. Frantz, remain here for a while.

If any should return--"

But despite this direction all three ran to where the horse yet

stood, and Materne, seizing the animal's bridle, cried:

"Now, old fellow, we will teach thee to speak French. These

Cossacks have famous horses, my boys," he continued, "and when I

am too old to go afoot, I will keep this one to hunt with."

"Let us go," cried Kasper.

Toward six o'clock they heard the first challenge of their

sentinels:

"Who goes there?"

"France!" answered Materne, advancing.

{313}

He was soon recognized, and all rushed forth to meet the three

hunters. Hullin himself, as curious as the rest, came out with

Doctor Lorquin. The partisans stood around the horse, gazing with

looks of wonder and admiration.

"It is a Cossack's," said Hullin, squeezing his old friend's

hand.

"Yes, Jean-Claude; we captured it at the pond of Riel. Kasper

shot its master."

Kasper, leaning upon his rifle, seemed well pleased with his

prize, and old Materne, rubbing his hands, added:

"We were determined to bring something back with us, for my boys

and I never return empty-handed."

Hullin took him aside, and they entered the farm-house together,

while the young hunters gratified the curiosity of their

comrades.

Chapter XIII.

That whole night long the little farm of the Anabaptist was

filled with partisans going and coming.

Hullin had established his headquarters in the large hall of the

ground floor of the house; on this floor, too, was the hospital,

and the farm people occupied the upper stories.

Although the night was calm and innumerable stars shone in the

sky, the cold was so keen that the frost seemed almost an inch

thick upon the window-panes.

Without, the cry of "Who goes there?" occasionally broke the

stillness, while ever and anon the howling of wolves was borne on

the air from the neighboring peaks; for since 1812 wolves had

followed our armies by hundreds, and now, stretched on the snow,

their pointed muzzles between their fore-paws, they called from

Grosmann to Donon, and from Donon to Grosmann, until the breeze

seemed filled with their plaintive cries. More than one

mountaineer grew pale as he listened to them, and muttered:

"It is the song of death; he scents the battle from afar, and

calls us to follow him."

Then the cattle lowed in their stables, and the horses neighed

with affright.

Some thirty fires were burning on the plateau where was the camp;

the old Anabaptist's wood-pile had paid tribute, and log after

log was heaped on; but though the face might scorch, the back

quivered with the cold, and frost hung from the beards and

moustaches of those who stood warming their backs.

Hullin, in the house, sat before the great fir table, absorbed in

thought. From the latest reports he had received, he was

convinced that the first attack would be made the next day. He

had had cartridges distributed, had doubled the sentries, ordered

patrols through the mountain, and fixed the posts of all along

the abatis. He had also caused Piorette, Jerome of Saint-Quirin,

and Labarbe to send their best marksmen to him.

The hall where he sat was lit by a dim lantern, and full of snow;

and every moment his officers came and went, their hats drawn far

down over their heads, and icicles hanging from their beards.

"Master Jean-Claude, something is moving near Grandfontaine; we

can hear horses galloping."

"Master Jean-Claude, the brandy is frozen."

"Master Jean-Claude, many of the men are without powder."

Such were the reports and complaints that every moment assailed

the leader's ears.

"Watch well toward Grandfontaine and change the sentries on that

side every half-hour."

"Thaw the brandy at the fires."

{314}

"Wait until Dives comes; he has ammunition. Distribute what

cartridges remain, and let all who have more than twenty rounds

divide the surplus among their comrades."

And so the night passed.

Toward five in the morning Kasper reported that Marc-Dives with a

load of cartridges, Catherine Lefevre, and a detachment from

Labarbe had arrived and were at the farm.

The news eased the old sabot-maker's mind, for he feared greatly

the result of a delay in the supplies. He rose at once and went

out with Kasper.

At the approach of day, huge masses of fog had begun to rise from

the valley; the fires crackled in the damp air, and all around

lay the sleeping mountaineers. All was silent, and a cloud,

purple or grey, as the fire rose or fell, hung around each

bivouac. Further off, the dim outlines of the sentinels could be

seen as they paced to and fro with arms shouldered, or stood

gazing into the misty abysses.

To the right, fifty yards beyond the last fire, horses were

neighing, and men stamping to keep their feet warm.

"Master Jean-Claude is coming," said Kasper approaching the

group.

One of the partisans had just thrown a bundle of dry sticks upon

the fire, and by the light of the blaze Hullin saw Marc-Dives and

his twelve men on horseback, standing sabre in hand, motionless

around their charge. Catherine was further on, half covered with

the straw of her wagon, her back leaning against a large cask;

behind her were a huge pot, a gridiron, a fresh-killed hog ready

for cooking, and some strings of onions and cabbages for soup.

All started for a moment from the darkness, and disappeared again

as the blaze fell.

Dives left his party and rode forward.

"Is that you, Jean-Claude?"

"Yes, Marc."

"I have already several thousand cartridges. Hexe-Baizel is

working night and day."

"Good! good!"

"And Catherine Lefevre is here with provisions."

"We shall need all, Marc. The battle is near."

"I do not doubt it; we shall not have long to wait. But where

shall I put the powder?"

"Yonder; under the shed, behind the house. Is that you,

Catherine?"

"It is indeed, Jean-Claude. A cold morning."

"Always the same, Catherine. Do you fear nothing?"

"Would I be a woman if I lacked curiosity? I must see all that is

going on, you know."

"Yes, you have always excuses for your good deeds."

"No compliments, Hullin. People cannot live on air, and I have

taken my measures. Yesterday we killed an ox--poor Schwartz--he

weighed nine hundred, and I have brought a quarter for soup. Let

me warm myself."

She threw the reins to Duchene and alighted, saying:

"Those fires yonder are a pretty sight, but where is Louise?"

"Louise has passed the night making bandages with Pelsly's two

daughters. She is there in the hospital, where you see my lantern

shining."

"Poor child!" said Catherine; "I will run and help her. It will

warm me."

Hullin gazing at her retreating figure could only mutter, "What a

woman! What a woman!"

{315}

Dives and his men took the powder to the shed; and what was

Jean-Claude's surprise, on approaching the nearest fire, to see

the fool Yegof, his crown upon his head, gravely sitting upon a

stone, his feet at the embers, and his rags draped around him

like a royal mantle.

Nothing could be stranger than his figure. He was the only one

waking there, and seemed a barbarian king surrounded by his

sleeping horde.

Hullin, however, only saw the fool, and gently placing his hand

upon his shoulder, said in a tone of ironical respect:

"Hail, Yegof! thou art come to offer us the aid of thine

invincible arm and the help of thy numberless armies!"

The fool, without showing the least surprise, answered:

"That depends upon thee, Hullin. Thy fate and that of thy people

around thee are in thy hands. I have checked my wrath, and I

leave it to thee to pronounce the sentence."

"What sentence?" asked Jean-Claude.

The fool, without replying, continued in a low and solemn tone:

"We are here now, as we were sixteen hundred years ago, on the

eve of a great battle. Then I, the chief of so many nations, came

to thy clan to demand a passage--"

"Sixteen hundred years ago!" interrupted Hullin; "that would make

us fearfully old, Yegof. But no matter; go on."

"Yes," said the fool; "but thine obstinacy would hear nothing;

hundreds of dead lie at Blutfeld; they cry for vengeance!"

"Ah! yes, Blutfeld," said Jean-Claude; "it is an old story; I

have heard you tell it before."

Yegof rose with flushed face and flashing eyes.

"Barest thou boast of thy victory?" he cried. "But beware,

beware! Blood calls for blood!"

Then his tone softened, and he added:

"Listen! I would not harm thee; thou art brave, and the children

of thy race may mingle their blood with mine. I desire thy

alliance--thou knowest it."

"He is coming back to Louise," thought Jean-Claude, and,

foreseeing another demand in form, he said:

"Yegof, I am sorry, but I must leave you; I have so many things

to see to--"

The fool bent an angry look on him.

"Dost refuse me thy daughter?" he cried, raising his finger

solemnly.

"We will talk of it hereafter."

"Thou refusest!"

"Your cries are arousing my men, Yegof."

"Thou hast refused, and for the third time. Beware! Beware!"

Hullin, despairing of calming him, strode away, but the fool's

voice followed:

"Woe to thee, Huldrix! Thy latest hour is nigh. Soon will the

wolves banquet upon thy flesh! The storm of my wrath is

unchained, and for thee and thine there is no longer grace, pity,

nor mercy! Thou hast spoken thy doom!"

And throwing the ragged end of his cloak over his shoulder, the

poor wretch hurried toward the peak of Donon.

Many of the partisans, half awakened by his voice, gazed with

dull eyes at his vanishing form. They heard a flapping of wings

around the fire, but it seemed like a dream, and they turned and

slept again.

{316}

An hour later, the horn of Lagarmitte sounded the

_reveille_. In a few moments every one was upon his feet.

The chiefs assembled their men. Some went to the shed, where

cartridges were distributed; others filled their flasks at the

cask, but everything was done in order. Then each platoon

departed in the grey dawn to take its place at the _abatis_.

When the sun rose, the farm was deserted, and, save five or six

fires yet smoking, nothing announced that the partisans held all

the passes of the mountain, and had so lately been encamped

there.

----------

Glimpses Of Tuscany.

The Passion At Prato.

IV.

As Good Friday drew near, I was more than once asked by our

_maestro di casa_ if I meant to attend the Passion at Prato.

Prato is an old walled town in the valley of the Arno, about ten

miles from Florence. It contains some twelve thousand

inhabitants, whose principal occupation consists in plaiting

Leghorn straw, manufacturing Turkish red-caps, smelting copper,

and quarrying the dark green serpentine, which figures so

extensively in Italian church architecture. It is renowned in

Christian art as the shrine of the Sacratissima Cintola. Our

_maestro_ explained that once in every three years, from

time immemorial, the citizens of Prato had celebrated Good Friday

by a nocturnal representation of the Passion; that it was a sight

well worth seeing, and famous throughout Northern Italy; that he

and his family were going, and that they had a window, or stand,

very much at my service. My aunt, who thought nothing worth

seeing but the Cascine and her native Lucca, shook her head

despairingly, leaving me somehow under the impression that the

affair was a large puppet-show accompanied by fireworks. So the

matter dropped, and I quite forgot it, until invited on Holy

Thursday by an English gentleman, long resident in Florence, to

make one of a party to Prato, Friday afternoon. As the trains

were uncomfortably full, and all the better public barouches

engaged weeks before, we had to put up with an old blue hack,

drawn by two lank, slovenly bays. But the hack-horses of Florence

are singed cats. Although not unlike crop-eared mules, they can

hold a trot or canter all day long, without seeming much more

distressed than when they started. We were hardly through the

Porta al Prato before our team struck an honest, even, steady

lope that soon brought us to the Villa Demidoff.

The spring is a slow one, but the violets are out, the

fruit-trees in bloom, and the roses budding. There is no dust;

the road, like all Tuscan roads, smooth and firm, curbed and

guttered, weeded to the edge, fringed with unbroken borders of

olive, mulberry, and vines.

{317}

Along the wayside, and in the doorways, old women and children

are braiding straw. Men and girls, in holiday attire, are

flocking to the great triennial festa; some in carts, drawn by

mild-eyed, dove-colored oxen; some on foot; others in jaunty

spring-wagons, jerked along by plucky little ponies. The whole

country is astir, with a general concentration on Prato. It must

surely be something worth seeing that provokes such a deliberate

crowd. Still, I asked no questions. It is so much more

interesting to anticipate a spectacle vaguely than exactly. The

indefinite anxiety about the form in which a dawning unknown will

finally present itself is always more engrossing than mere

curiosity to realize a picture distinctly foreshadowed. Yet,

while speculating on what the good people of Prato could possibly

make of the awful mystery they were undertaking to represent, I

must confess that I felt apprehensive lest some awkward handling

should affront the unutterably sacred.

At sunset we reached the fine old walls, and came to a halt just

inside the gate. To drive further was impossible. The city

swarmed with _contadini_ from the neighborhood; with natives

and _forestieri_ from Florence, Pisa, Pistoia, Lucca, and

even Milan; with the beautiful maidens of Segna and the dark

silk-venders of Pescia. It was evident, at a glance, that the

ceremony was to be a procession. The piazzas were all ready for

illumination; every window along the line of march displayed at

least two lamps suspended from brackets of thick iron wire; every

door and balcony was thronged with still, expectant faces.

As two of our party, a young artist and a mature cosmopolitan,

were bent on seeing the cathedral, we managed to reach it after

toiling through the crowd. It is wonderful how many objects your

disciplined sight-seer can absorb at once. He is never satisfied

with less than a constellation in his field of vision. The

emotional jumble that maddens a novice serves only to

tranquillize his nerves. He is utterly insensible to the charm of

a separately entertained idea--the undulating, widening waves of

thought dispersed evenly and unbrokenly from one central point of

agitation. He is, apparently, never so happy as when the surface

of sensation is pelted with fresh impressions, overshowered with

novelties, tremulous and titillating with myriads of clashing

circlets. But, although the Duomo is partly of the twelfth

century, although it is said to enshrine the Sacratissima

Cintola, although its choir contains the best specimens of Fra

Lippo Lippi, I was not sorry to find the doors locked. My mind

was so preoccupied with the coming Passion that I scarcely cared

to do more than glance at the fine balcony built by Donatello for

the exposition of the treasured girdle.

We drifted about the piazza till dark, when an electrical

movement and murmur of the people announced the near approach of

the initial moment. Instantly a thousand ladders are up against

the house-sides; swiftly and mysteriously the throng of

on-lookers melts away; the bands of Pistoia and Prato unite in a

minor march; the momently deserted streets are filled with

radiance and music--the great triennial festa has begun.

Half-past seven; a perfect night; no moon, a low breeze, and

faint starlight. We are in the rear of the starting-point; the

procession must traverse the whole town--two hours--before it

reaches us. But we shall have the best of it then, for the close

is said to be even more solemn and better ordered than the start.

{318}

The narrow sidewalks are lined with spectators; doors, windows,

and balconies alive with faces; but there is little movement and

less conversation. Although we had a room of our own, we found

ourselves addressing each other in whispers. At nine o'clock the

silence deepened; the low rustling in the balconies ceased; our

hostess crossed herself; the glare of coming torches lights up a

living lane of men bare-headed, of women mutely praying with

clasped hands; and then a solitary Roman knight, with casque and

spangled robe, and steed unshod, glides noiselessly into view,

like an apparition. After him a band of mounted knights, clad as

at Calvary, ride slowly, silently together; then a blast from

twenty trumpets, in superb unison, by twenty Bersaglieri of the

Guard; and then--a sight which to this day brings the tears to my

eyes as I recall it--thirty gladiatorial lictors, ten abreast,

stripped to the waist, bare-headed, belted, filleted--all picked

men of equal height--moving with a step that spurned the ground,

light but swift and stern as fate. How that wonderful step

startled us! How its determined energy transported us to

Jerusalem! They have sustained it for two hours without the

slightest symptom of weariness. They march on as if they could

keep the pace forever.

After these, in helmet and cuirass, with shield and sword and

spear, come the Roman legionaries, true to tradition in gait,

garb, and array.

"Watch the sway of their spears," whispered our artist friend, as

the long lances flashed through the air with the even sweep of an

admiral's oars.

It was worth watching: nearly as much so as the wonderful stride

of the lictors. And, all the while, you could not hear a

footfall, a comment, or a murmur; the procession passed like a

vision through the heart of that still, torchlit, reverent

multitude. But, as the dread sequel approached, I began to

tremble--began to fear they might overdo it--although the

marching of those drilled lictors and the swaying of those

legionary spears might have reassured me. Fresh companies of

knights, fresh sections of the cohort are filing forward, every

man of them as earnest and absorbed as if he were climbing the

hill of the Crosses Three. Not a sign or gesture of levity,

distraction, or fatigue; not even a side-glance at the living

walls that hemmed them in.

As the vanguard melts away, the sudden glare of many torches, the

sudden chaunt of many voices, again invade the solemn stillness

with music and light. Marshalled groups of ecclesiastics, each

group with its separate choir, are seen advancing in endless

perspective; and in the centre of each choir, between two

torch-bearers, a lovely boy, with downcast eyes and rigid face,

supports some symbol of the Passion. One by one, at measured

intervals, the precious emblems of salvation are thus

successively displayed--each with its guard of acolytes, its

escort of deacons and sub-deacons, its swelling choral, its

angelic boy-bearer. Those rapt, concentrated, inspired young

faces! I see them now bending in meek beauty over the Scourge,

the Crown, the Reed, the Cross, the Nails, the Sponge, the Spear.

And when these too have passed, there is another pause, another

interval of darkness, another pulseless silence, broken as before

by the tide of radiance and song. Seven white banners inscribed

with the Seven Last Words are borne by with the same mournful

pomp, the same separate array. Whose the music, I know not:

neither Haydn's, I am sure, nor Mercadante's, I think; but quite

as effective, for the moment, as either.

{319}

We looked and listened spell-bound; an overpowering illusion held

us speechless and motionless; a dread expectation weighed at our

hearts like lead; we were body and soul at Calvary, as once more

the torchlight died away. And in the darkness, we asked

ourselves, "Will they venture farther? Will they attempt the act

of sacrifice itself? Why, the city of Prato would reel like

Jerusalem--her graves would open and her dead would walk!"

But Prato is too merciful for that. After an interval of profound

suspense, a lofty sable catafalque, encircled by priests arrayed

in stole and surplice, is borne silently along--and on it, pale

and unmoving, the shrouded image of the divine Victim, with all

the agony of the Passion on the white lips and crimson brow.

_Consummatum est!_--But as we sat unexpectant of more,

another figure emerged from the settling gloom--the life-size

effigy of the Mater Dolorosa, "following with clasped hands and

streaming eyes the dead form of her Son." After all that long

array of _living_ actors, the introduction of any effigy,

however perfect, must create a disillusion. And this one is far

from perfect--far more suggestive of the Prado than of Calvary.

The dead on the catafalque is appropriately represented by the

inanimate; but when knights, soldiers, lictors, centurions, are

moving, breathing flesh and blood, its application to the equally

living Mother is a violent incongruity. The action has been too

intensely vitalized to assimilate a counterfeit vitality, however

sacred its significance.

"But what then?" asks the genius of Prato. "Am I to forego this

tribute to my dear Padrona because it shocks the sensibilities of

a speculative tourist? Does not my cathedral enshrine the very

girdle of the Assumption that fell to the kneeling Thomas? Can

you fix a single unorthodox or unscriptural significance upon

these time-honored obsequies? In the final throes of crucifixion,

was not the last thought of the dying Son, the last concern of

the expiring Redeemer, for his Mother? Was not 'Behold thy

Mother!' the last charge of the thirsting lips? We obey the

_Ecce Homo_ of Pilate: dare we disobey the _Ecce Mater_

of Jesus?"

Let it be discriminated, however, that in the _Ecce Mater_

we are summoned to contemplate our Blessed Lady, not in her

agony, but in her maternity--in her relationship rather to the

future than to the present. The Evangelists are singularly

careful not to distinguish any finite sorrow--not even

_hers_--from the overwhelming spectacle of immolated Deity.

Had the Mater Dolorosa formed _part_ of the funeral tableau,

had she been pictured _Dolentem_ CUM _filio_, had she

been stationed directly _at_ the bier so as to constitute a

group or Pietà--although the inconsistency of effigy remained,

yet the marbles of Angelo and the canvas of Raphael would have

abundantly prepared us for the sight. But at that supreme moment,

to present her, _after a distinct interval_, as a

_separate_ spectacle, was at variance with all the examples

of Christian art. The Stabat Mater does not wander an inch from

the Cross; though here, with exquisite propriety, as the sorrow

of the Mother is revealed, the cross she clings to is so dimmed

by her tears that we catch only mournful twilight glimpses of the

DULCEM _Natum_--veiled, infinite, triumphant woe, but none

of the vivid, minute, specific agony of the Passion.

{320}

The sublime reticence of the Evangelists, so far from diminishing

the true glory of the Handmaid of the Lord, is in inspired accord

both with her maiden humility and maternal dignity. The

fathomless processes of redemption present themselves to our

limited perceptions rather as consecutive than simultaneous. The

paternal, the filial, the spiritual aspect of the Holy Trinity

seems each consecutively prominent in the church. As the special

work of the Redeemer is consummated, the special work of the

Comforter begins. The sphere of the Paraclete is as broadly

defined, as lovingly respected by the Son, as the sphere of the

Padre Eterno. Infinitely dear as is the bond between babe and

mother, we instinctively sympathize with the mystical courtesy

that reserved the full exaltation of the Bride of the Dove, like

the gift of the cloven tongues of fire, for the operation of the

Holy Ghost.

"Vergine sola al mondo sensa esempio,

Che'l ciel di tue bellezze innamorasti."

And the hearts of the faithful, now as at Ephesus, are jealously

alive to the full significance of her paramount title, "_Mater

Dei_."

The mission of Peter, to feed the sheep, is not more emphatic

than the mission of John as the child and guardian of Mary. The

apostolic inheritor of the keys, and the executor of the cross

who took her as his own, walk side by side through the ages,

_not in the flesh, indeed, but in the spirit_, following the

Lord till his coming. In this relation, the dearest disciple is

as deathless as the church; under this aspect, Christian art

loves to depict him; under this aspect he becomes the preferred

of the Paraclete, as he has been the best beloved of

Jesus--becomes the great herald of the incarnation; the prophet

to whose vision the doors in heaven are opened; the bearer of the

mystic challenge, "_And the_ SPIRIT _and the_ BRIDE

_say come!_"

Salve Regina! Much as I should have preferred the chime of the

Stabat Mater to any more direct suggestion, or to aught in

imitative art save the very face of the San Sisto transformed by

maternal sorrow, yet no man in Prato bows with deeper heartfelt

reverence than I to the image of our ever honored Lady. Tuscany

is not Mariolatrous enough for me. I should like it better with a

Madonna presiding over every fountain and hallowing every

pathway. And, in the deep hush that precedes the stir with which

Prato struggles back to herself, the soul's conception of the

_Juxta crucem lacrymosa_ takes the place of the vanishing

effigy, and, aided by the inspired seers of art, constructs some

tenderer semblance of the blessed countenance.

"----ch' a Christo

Piu s' assomiglia."

There was but little conversation as we drove back in the

midnight. And when at last, in the starry distance, arose the

mighty cupola of Santa Maria del Fiore, I caught myself searching

among the towers of Florence for the lonely spire of Santo

Spirito.

----------

{321}

Galileo-Galilei, [Footnote 125]

the Florentine Astronomer.

1564-1642.

"Even so great a man as Bacon rejected the theory of Galileo

with scorn. ... Bacon had not all the means of arriving at a

sound conclusion which are within our reach; and which secure

people who would not have been worthy to mend his pens from

falling into his mistakes."--Macaulay.

[Footnote 125: _Galileo--The Roman Inquisition_.

Cincinnati. 1844.

_Galileo e l'Inquisizione_. Marino-Marini. Roma. 1850.

_Histoire des Sciences Mathématiques en Italie_.

Par Libri. Paris. 1838.

_Notes on the Ante-Galilean Copernicans._

Prof. De Morgan. London. 1855.

_Opere di Galileo-Galilei._ Alberi. Firenze.

1842-1856. 16 vols. imp. 8vo.

_Galileo-Galilei, sa Vie, son Procès et ses

Contemporains_. Par Philarète Chasles. Paris. 1862.

_Galileo and the Inquisition_. By R. Madden. London.

1863.

_Galilee, sa Vie, ses Découvertes et ses Travaux_.

Par le Dr. Max Parchappe. Paris. 1866.

_Galilee_. Tragédie de M. Ponsard. Paris. 1866.

_La Condamnation de Galilée_. Par M. l'Abbé Bouix.

Arras. 1866.

_Articles on Galileo, in Dublin Review_. 1838-1865.

_Articles on Galileo, in Revue des Deux Mondes_.

1841-1864.

_Mélanges Scientifiques et Littéraires_.

Par J. B. Biot. 3 vols. Paris. 1858.

_Galilée, les Droits da la Science

et la Méthode des Sciences Physiques_.

Par Thomas Henri Martin.

Paris. 1868.]

Very few years of life now remain to the Galileo story as

heretofore accepted. It has received more than one mortal wound,

and, writhing in pain, must soon "die among its worshippers." And

yet some of them still battle for its truth. For these, too, the

end approaches. We therefore hasten to glean the field and gather

in our harvest of historic leaves, while yet the controversial

sun shines with fading warmth. We wish at once to present the

Galileo story as truly told; for soon there will be nothing left

of it to discuss, and the moving drama of

"The starry Galileo, with his woes,"

will cease to be played to crowded and delighted anti-Catholic

audiences. A flood of historic daylight has been gradually let in

behind the scenes, and our pensive public now begin plainly to

discern the bungling framework, the coarse canvas, and the

roughly-daubed paint, that, in a light shed by a blaze of

religious bigotry, seemed the brilliancy of science and the

beauty of truth.

The "persecution," the "torture," the "_e pur si muove_" the

"shirt of penance," and all the other properties, scenery,

dresses, and decorations, constituting the "_mise en scène_"

of the wretched play that so long has had a sort of historic

_Black Crook_ run, are now about to be swept away with other

old rubbish, and the curtain will fall never again to rise.

The Galileo controversy is of comparatively recent date in our

literature. In the year 1838 a well-known article in the _The

Dublin Review_ gave the best statement of the case which, up

to that period, had ever been presented to English readers. It

was in this country generally attributed to Cardinal Wiseman, but

was in fact written by the Rev. Peter Cooper. Republished in 1844

at Cincinnati, with a timely preface, it has been largely

circulated among the Catholic reading public throughout the

United States. Since the dates mentioned, however, there are many

valuable accessions to our knowledge on this interesting subject;

and, not to mention others, the publications of Marini, Alberi,

and Biot have cleared up several important points heretofore in

doubt, and placed some disputed facts in an entirely new light.

{322}

The occasion of _The Dublin Review_ article was the

appearance of Whewell's _History of the Inductive Sciences_,

and Powell's _History of Philosophy_. Its republication in

Cincinnati, accompanied by an American introduction, was provoked

by some remarkable statements made concerning Galileo by John

Quincy Adams, in a discourse delivered before the Astronomical

Society of that city. In like manner, the controversy was lately

brought to the surface in France by the production of M.

Ponsard's five-act drama (_Galilée_) at the Théâtre

Français. Before it is put upon the stage, the play is objected

to by official censorship, on the ground of historical

misrepresentation. M. Ponsard justifies, censure responds. M.

Ponsard's friends, the _Avenir National_ and a compact

phalanx of ardent young _feuilletonistes_, spring to the

rescue; pamphlets fly from the press as thick as autumn leaves,

and the whole controversy is once again put in agitation.

Generally speaking, English and American boys emerge from their

school or college reading with an idea, more or less vague, that

the moment Galileo announced the doctrine of the earth's rotation

he was seized upon by the Inquisition, cast into prison, tortured

in various ways until all his bones were broken; that he

pretended to recant, but, with broken bones aforesaid, stood up

erect, stamped his foot, and-thundered out, "_e pur si

muove_"--and yet, it moves. We believe this is no exaggeration

of the main features of the version that in an undefined and

misty form still holds possession of the public mind; and the

distinguished Biot appears to recognize this fact in the title of

his memoir (1858) on the subject. _La Vérité sur Galilée_--

The truth at last--or, in other words, we have had enough of

fiction.

And no wonder; for, up to within comparatively few years, the

story has been systematically obscured by thick shades of fable

and falsehood. Falsehood as gross as that of Montucla, that the

astronomer's eyes were put out; or of Bernini, that he was

imprisoned for five years. Falsehood as flippant as that of

Moreri, (_Grand Dictionnaire Biographique_,) that Galileo

was "kept in prison five or six years," prefacing his statement

with "_je sais bien_." Fables as transparent as that of

Pontecoulant, who says Galileo was a martyr, leaving you free to

imagine the astronomer beheaded or burned, at your choice.

As liberal a quarterly as the _Westminster_ says of Galileo:

"For the remainder of his life he was subjected to the

persecution of the Inquisition." Even the last edition of the

_Encyclopedia Britannica_ tells us that "at the end of a

year the Grand Duke had the influence to procure his release from

prison;" and Sir Benjamin Brodie informs us, in his

_Psychological Inquiries_, that "the Inquisition of Rome

subjected Galileo to the torture because he asserted that the

earth moved round the sun, and not the sun round the earth." But

for a specimen of the most daring intrepidity of statement on

this topic, see an article by Libri in the _Revue des Deux

Mondes_, 1841; and for one out of a thousand silly rhetorical

flourishes, see _Introduction à l'Etude Philosophique de

l'Histoire de l'Humanité_, par Altmeyer, (p. 95,) "Galilée fut

forcé par un clergé retrograde de demander pardon à Dieu d'avoir

révelé aux hommes les éternelles et ravissantes harmonies par

lesquelles il régit l'univers."

{323}

Summing up this peculiar phase of historical treatment, there is

left from it a general impression that Galileo was persecuted,

imprisoned, maltreated, and tortured, wholly and solely by reason

of his scientific belief; that he pretended to abjure, but said

"_e pur si muove_" and did not abjure.

The Ponsard controversy in France, which had hardly died out at

the latest advices, produced many assertions, strong expression

of weak theories, loose statement, some fine writing, pleasing

amenities, such as "exagération," "inexactitude de

transcription," "menteurs," "mensonge complet," and very little

historical proof.

Throughout the entire range of the discussion one capital feature

appears, as usual, to be left totally out of sight. We mean

The Condition Of The Scientific Question.

The theory of the earth's motion, A.D. 1868, is demonstrated.

There is no one to question it--unless, indeed, we except Pastor

Knaack, an orthodox Lutheran, or, at any rate, Protestant

preacher, in Berlin, who lately had an exciting controversy with

Pastor Liscow, in which he maintains that the accounts given of

the creation of the world in the first chapters of Genesis are

literally true; that the earth does not move, etc., etc. And most

persons nowadays, taking it for granted that Galileo had

demonstrated the truth of his system, appear to be satisfied that

the tribunal by which he was judged must have been perversely

blind and disgracefully ignorant in refusing assent to a

proposition so evident. Even in many books that treat this

discussion with comparative thoroughness, the true condition of

the scientific question in Galileo's day is passed over in

silence, or presented with startling incorrectness. Thus any one

might read Dr. Parchappe's pretentious work carefully through,

and never suspect that Galileo had not triumphantly demonstrated

the system.

For another, out of many examples, listen to M. Philarète

Chasles: "Galileo accomplished the noblest conquest of modern

science after that of Newton. _He determined the problem of the

movement of the earth_, and thus became culpable of three

crimes--against society, the _savants_, and the power of his

time." So intent is M. Chasles on his antithetical three crimes,

that he loses sight of the fact that this assertion prostrates

the whole _échafaudage_ of his defence of Rome--for,

ultra-liberal though he be, his book is written with unusual

fairness of intention. If Galileo did what M. Chasles thus claims

for him--namely, determine the problem of the movement of the

earth--_there is no excuse for Rome!_ But a candid

examination of the condition of astronomical science at that

period, and of the extent of Galileo's acquisitions, will show

that not only was

THE SYSTEM NOT DEMONSTRATED BY GALILEO,

but that, with the entire fund of astronomical and physical

knowledge in existence in his day, it was not then susceptible of

demonstration by him or by any one else.

This examination we now proceed to make. And we set out with the

proposition that Galileo, with all the aid of the eighty years of

confirmation that grew with the theory of Copernicus, with the

light of his own remarkable discoveries, with his brilliant

genius and intimate conviction of the truth of his theory, was

yet not only powerless to prove it, but was so far wide of

demonstration that he assigned as evidence in its support reasons

that were utterly erroneous and delusive.

{324}

The truth is--and it is no derogation of Galileo's magnificent

talent to say so--it was not given to any single intellect here

below to solve a problem so gigantic. It was not possible for any

mortal to concentrate the patient labor of centuries within the

space of one short life, to master all the avenues of all the

sciences that approach it, to storm the firmament and lead

captive the stars. No! only the combined genius and ceaseless

toil of the illustrious men of science of all Christendom barely

succeeded in accomplishing the demonstration of which we speak,

nearly two centuries after the grave had closed over Galileo and

his judges.

It would require a volume to do the entire subject the merest

justice; for, in addition to the examination proposed, it is

absolutely necessary, if only for the sake of chronological

clearness, to present at least a sketch of Galileo's career, the

main events of his personal and scientific life, and a statement

of the difficulties that brought on his trial. This we will

endeavor to do.

BIOGRAPHY.

Born at Pisa, February 28th, 1564, Galileo-Galilei was, at the

age of twenty-six, noticed by the Cardinal Del Monte, and on his

recommendation installed lecturer on mathematics in his native

city. At this period the doctrines of Aristotle reigned in the

schools, although Leonardo da Vinci, Nizzoli, Benedetti, and

others, had, by many valuable experiments, already shaken the

authority of the Stagyrite on matters of science. The young Pisan

followed diligently in their path, and, with the favoring

locality of the Leaning Tower, demonstrated the incorrectness of

the accepted axiom that the velocity of falling bodies is

proportionate to their weight. He was also the first to whom the

mechanical principle, since denominated that of the

_virtual_ velocities, had occurred in its full extent; and

in pure geometry there is no doubt that, at a later period, he

anticipated Cavalcanti in the discovery of the calculus of the

indivisibles.

Unfortunately, his indiscreet zeal had only words of harshness

and rebuke for those who hesitated to accept his demonstrations,

and his sarcasms rapidly begot alienation and ill-will. For a

prejudice respectable by age he could make no allowance, and with

the blindness that in a blaze of light is unable to command

vision he had no patience. Galileo was, however, still young, and

not yet, if ever in his life, wise enough to reflect, with

another great astronomer, that men are not necessarily obstinate

because they cleave to rooted and venerable errors, nor are they

absolutely dull when they are long in understanding and slow in

embracing newly discovered truths.

The young lecturer made so many enemies at Pisa that he was glad

to leave it and accept the chair of mathematics at Padua.

THE TELESCOPE.

Here he invented, or rather improved, the telescope. Galileo

expressly states in his _Nuncius Siderius_ (March, 1610)

that he had heard that a certain Hollander constructed

(_elaboratum_) a glass, (_perspicillum_,) by means of

which distant objects were made to appear near. Whether this

unknown optician was Zachary Jansen, Moetius of Alkmar, or Henry

Lippersheim of Middleburg, it seems impossible to determine.

{325}

Indeed, it seems strange that the idea of the telescope had not

long before been put to practical use. Passing over the

"perspective glasses" of the English astronomer Dee, or

modifications of the suggestion in the _Pantometria_ of

Digges in 1571, we find that the idea of bringing nearer the

image of distant objects by means of a combination of lenses is

to be traced almost clearly to a very remote period. Baptist

Porta, in his _Magica Naturalis_, published in 1589, speaks

of crystal lenses by which he could read a letter at twenty

paces, and was confident of being able, by multiplying such

lenses, to decipher the smallest letters at a hundred paces.

Going further back, we read in the _Homocentrica_ of

Fracastorius, who died in the year 1553, of glasses through whose

aid we can decipher writing at a great distance; and yet further,

Roger Bacon, who died A.D. 1300, speaks of glasses by which very

small letters could be read at an incredible distance.

Galileo's first telescope had only a power of three, his second

magnified eight times, his third thirty-three, [Footnote 126] and

was soon succeeded by a better one made on a suggestion of

Kepler, who wrote to Galileo: "There is as much difference

between the dissertations of Ptolemy on the Antipodes and the

discovery of a new world by Columbus as between the bilenticular

tubes which are everywhere hawked about and thine instrument,

Galileo, wherewith thou hast penetrated the depths of the skies."

[Footnote 126: The largest telescopes we now have are at

Cincinnati, 204 focal feet: Greenwich, (England,) 210;

Cambridge, (Mass.,) 270; Pultowa, (Russia,) 289; E. Cooper,

(private observatory, Ireland,) 302. Auzont (Paris) is said

to have made one of 600 focal feet, but it was found to be

unmanageable.]

These embryo telescopes were from twenty to thirty inches in

length. Now, from a mere portable toy which Galileo held in his

hand, this instrument has become an immense construction capable

of supporting the astronomer himself, and which complicated and

powerful machinery is requisite to move.

It is a remarkable fact that, as late as 1637, no glasses could

be produced in Holland, the cradle of the telescope, capable of

showing the satellites of Jupiter, which, in our day, can be

discerned with a good field or opera-glass.

With his baby-telescope, then, in 1610, Galileo discovered the

irregularities or mountains of the moon, forty stars in the

Pleiades, and the satellites of Jupiter. These discoveries were

announced in a work bearing the appropriate title, The _Herald

of the Skies, (Nuncius Sidereus;)_ and it would be difficult

to describe the profound sensation this publication created.

Kepler, in a letter to Galileo, describes his impressions on

hearing of the discovers of the satellites of Jupiter in the

following graphic manner: "Wachenfels stopped his carriage at my

door to tell me, when such a fit of wonder seized me at a report

which seemed so absurd that, between his joy, my coloring, and

the laughter of both, confounded as we were by such a novelty, we

were hardly capable, he of speaking, or I of listening."

GALILEO GOES TO ROME.

Galileo visited Rome for the first time in 1611. His fame had

preceded him, and his stay there was one long ovation. Attentions

beset him and honors were heaped upon him. "Whether we consider

cardinal, priest, or prelate," says Salsbury, "he found an

honorable welcome from all, and had their palaces as open to him

as the houses of his private friends." His reception was indeed,

as was beautifully remarked, "as though one of his own starry

wonders had dropped from the sky."

{326}

He erected his best telescope in the garden of Cardinal Bandini,

and for weeks all classes, priest and layman, noble and plebeian,

flocked to see the wonders for the first time given to human

gaze.

In 1611 and 1612, he had a protracted controversy, and wrote

treatises on the question whether "the shape of bodies has any

influence on their disposition to float or sink in a fluid," and

displayed much acute reasoning in support of the true principles

of hydrostatics.

HIS SUCCESS.

Galileo had now obtained wealth, reputation, station, and high

honors. His pupils were received as professors. His disciples and

correspondents were philosophers, princes, and prelates.

Opposition was for him but a bridge to triumph, and even his

scientific errors were not noticed to his detriment. Not his the

fate of Kepler and Tycho Brahe, compelled to seek in exile the

hospitality of an opposing faith. Not his the essays of the

discouraged Fulton, jeered at up to the instant that

demonstration silenced cavil. Not his the labors of sad and

silent nights, destined only to see the light when the hand that

traced them was cold in the tomb. Not his the constant struggle

with years of poverty, of hope deferred, in spite of which

Columbus found a new world, not, like Galileo's, visible in the

vault of heaven, but unseen, unknown, beyond the trackless wave.

He wrote and spoke _ex cathedra_, and, whether with or

without proofs, in a tone of overbearing confidence. When

argument failed to enlighten the judgment of his adversaries,

says Lardner, "and reason to dispel their prejudices, he wielded

against them his powerful weapons of ridicule and sarcasm." His

progress was a triumphant march. Sovereigns received his

dedications, and learned academies sought a reflection of his

fame in sending forth his works with all the illustration of

their high authority. The path to the full establishment of the

Copernican system was open and broad before him; but the pride of

the man [Footnote 127] was stronger than the modest science of

the philosopher, and he made it rugged and difficult by obstacles

of his own erection. He strove not for truth, but victory.

[Footnote 127: Like Cicero, Galileo was "_avidior gloriae

quam satis est_," a phrase used by himself when on his

defence.]

THE COPERNICAN THEORY

was, so to speak, born, cradled, nurtured and developed in the

Church and under the very shadow of St. Peter's.

Nicholas Copernicus was a priest, acquired his scientific

education at Bologna, was shortly afterward appointed to a

professorship in Rome, where he lectured many years, and

announced and discussed his theory of the solar system long

before it was published. The printing of his great work was long

urged in vain by Cardinal Scomberg, who sent money to defray the

expense. The Bishop of Culm superintended its publication, and

Copernicus dedicated it to the Head of the Church, Pope Paul

III., on the express ground "that the authority of the pontiff

might silence the calumnies of those who attacked these opinions

by arguments drawn from Scripture."

{327}

It was well understood that the authority of the pontiff might be

relied on; for in 1533, ten years before the publication of _De

Revolutionibus_ by Copernicus, John Albert Widmanstadt, just

arrived in Rome from Germany, was invited by Pope Clement VII. to

give in his presence at the Vatican an explanation of the

Copernican system. Widmanstadt accordingly delivered a lecture on

the subject in the garden of the Vatican; and his holiness, in

token of his high gratification, presented the distinguished

German a valuable Greek manuscript, (long preserved at Monaco,

and now belonging to the royal library at Munich,) on the

fly-leaf of which is recorded, by Widmanstadt, the gift and the

incident connected with it.

From that time (1533) to 1610, a period of seventy-seven years,

the Copernican theory was widely discussed and written upon

throughout Europe. Lectures were delivered and books published in

Italy, Germany, France, and Spain, without let or hindrance, in

which the new system was thoroughly debated and, to a great

extent, controverted--controverted, too, far more bitterly by

astronomers than theologians. It was, moreover, discussed amongst

all classes of men. So much so, indeed, that it was publicly

satirized in a farce put upon the stage at Elbing. So great,

however, was the personal popularity of Copernicus that the piece

was hissed.

Intentionally or not, the impression has been strongly made on

the English and American Protestant mind that before Galileo the

new system scarcely existed, and that he was the first to

announce it to the astonished and benighted priests and cardinals

at Rome. In like manner a certain amount of literary industry

appears to have been used to pass over in comparative silence the

merit of Copernicus and his fellow-priests--simply because they

were priests. [Footnote 128]

[Footnote 128: In the interest of truth and historical

accuracy, it is highly gratifying to be able to point out a

signal and honorable exception in the following passage, which

we read in the _National Quarterly Review_, a Protestant

periodical published in this city: "Thus we are bound to

admit, as beyond all dispute, that not only was the system of

the universe now universally received founded by a priest of

the church which is said to be an enemy to science, but that

it was a bishop and cardinal of the same church who, above all

others, took most pains to have the system promulgated to the

world. It was, in fact, they who paid all the expenses of

printing the work, and finally, it was to the head of the

church the book was dedicated; nor was it dedicated to the

pope without his having given full permission, and it is

further proved that Paul III. had not given the permission

until he had made himself acquainted with the character of the

work."--_National Quarterly Review_, October, 1868, p.

219.]

Much of this reprehensible effort is chargeable to English

literature, and even Hallam, fair and honorable usually, is not

free from the reproach of an apparent fear of stating boldly that

Copernicus was a Catholic priest.

As remarked, more than three quarters of a century--that is to

say, from the period of the Widmanstadt lecture to the discovery

of the satellites of Jupiter--the new theory as propounded by

Copernicus was publicly taught or discussed by numbers of the

first scholars and men of science in Europe.

Among them were Erasmus, Reinhold, and George Joachim Rheticus;

personal friends and survivors of Copernicus.

_Francis Patricias_, the distinguished Platonist, who from

1592 to 1597 taught the diurnal motion of the earth at Rome under

the patronage of the pope. In connection with the name of

Patricius it is interesting to note the fact that the most

careful biographers of Galileo have been unable to fix the

precise time when he abandoned the Ptolemaic system for that of

Copernicus. True, M. Libri, (in his _Histoire des Sciences

Mathématiques en Italie_,) with his usual readiness undertakes

to inform us, by stating that "_Dès sa première jeunesse

Galilée avait adopté le système de Copernic_," which

statement, in a question of dates, we find eminently

unsatisfactory.

{328}

The weight of authority, however, appears to place it somewhere

between 1593 and 1597, precisely the period when Patricius was

lecturing at Rome.

_Christian Urstisius_, who died in 1588, publicly taught the

theory of Copernicus in a course of lectures delivered in Italy,

and to him also is ascribed, by some, the conversion of Galileo

to Copernicanism.

_Diego_ or _Didacus a Stunica_, a Spaniard, a decided

Copernican, the first it is said who discussed the Bible

arguments, quoting Job: "Who shaketh the earth out of her place,

and the pillars thereof tremble."

_Peter Ramus_, who began his philosophical career by a

public attack on the authority of Aristotle, in offering to

maintain the contrary of any assertion of his whatever. It is

noted as a curious coincidence that the publication of the

opinions of Copernicus and of Ramus, controverting ancient

astronomy (Ptolemy) and ancient logic, (Aristotle,) were made in

the same year, (1543.) Although called by Bacon "a skulking-hole

of ignorance," a "pernicious book-worm," etc., he was

nevertheless a man of great powers and acquirements. Before

Galileo came on the stage, he appeared to favor the system of

Copernicus.

_Christopher Rothman_, who, although a friend and at one

time a follower of Tycho Brahe, was a defender both of the annual

and diurnal motion of the earth.

_William Gilbert_ and _Edward Wright_, two English

scientific men, who may be classed among the opponents of the

Copernican system.

_Benedetti_, who cautiously favored the system.

_Christopher Clavius_, a celebrated Jesuit, whose vast

learning was the admiration of his age. In 1570, he spoke of

Copernicus as the excellent restorer of astronomy whom all

posterity will gratefully celebrate and admire as a second

Ptolemy. We shall meet Clavius again.

Not to speak of Kepler, we might mention Raimarus, Maestlin,

Vieta, and many others who wrote or lectured on the subject of

the theory of Copernicus previous to the year 1610.

And yet we now reach a period when a professor of this same

Copernican theory, in its home in Italy, was to be subjected to

what are called the terrors of the Inquisition!

WHENCE THE CHANGE?

How came it about? Were there elements in the controversy other

than scientific? And was it, or not, the fault of Galileo that

the question was shifted from the safe repose of the scientific

basis in which it had remained undisturbed more than four-score

years?

SECOND VISIT TO ROME.

In 1615, Galileo was denounced to the Inquisition by Lorini for

having asserted, in a letter to Castelli, the consistency of his

theories with the Scriptures. Lorini produced a copy of the

letter in support of his charge. The officials demanded the

original, which the complainant could not produce, although every

one in Rome knew where it was. Galileo's denunciator was, so to

speak, _non-suited_, and there the matter ended. Meantime,

through Ciampoli, Cardinal Barberini, afterward Pope Urban VIII.,

conveyed to Galileo the advice "not to travel out of the limits

of _physics_ and _mathematics_, but confine himself to

such reasonings as Ptolemy and Copernicus used; because,

declaring the views of Scripture the theologians maintain to be

their particular province."

{329}

This advice, together with the opinion of the eminent Bellarmine,

shows precisely the condition of opinion and feeling in Rome at

the period in question.

Galileo did not leave Rome after the inquiry of 1615, and then

writes to Picchena Feb. 16th, 1616: "My affair has been brought

to a close, so far as I am individually concerned; the result has

been signified to me by all their eminences the cardinals, who

manage these affairs in the most liberal and kind manner, with

the assurance that they had felt, as it were with their own

hands, no less my own candor and sincerity, than the diabolical

malignity and iniquitous purposes of my persecutors. So that, so

far as I am concerned, I might return home at any moment."

But he did not choose to return, and remained in order to obtain

a decision that should declare his scientific opinion in

accordance with Scripture. His friend Cardinal Orsini entered

warmly into his views, and after having failed in having the

question taken up by the cardinals, had the imprudence to force

it (_arreptâ potius quam captâ occasione_) upon the

attention of the pope and the cardinals while in deliberation

upon matters of weighty concern in one of their largest meetings.

On a second interruption the pope, naturally impatient, declared

he would send the matter before the Inquisition. He kept his

word, and eleven consultative theologians had orders from him to

report, which they did, February 24th, 1616. By virtue of an

order, said to have been written by the pope himself upon this

report, and notified on the 25th February, to the Commissary of

the Holy Office by Cardinal Mellini, Galileo was summoned the

next day to the palace of the Inquisition, where he was brought

before Cardinal Bellarmine. The decree was not one of utter

condemnation, but a declaration that the system appeared to be

contrary to the sacred Scripture. Galileo was enjoined by the

decree to abandon the opinion of terrestrial motion, and neither

to teach nor treat of it. Nor was this a discrimination against

Galileo merely because he was a layman. A few days afterward the

congregation condemned the work of Foscarini, a Carmelite friar

and professor of philosophy, who published a letter defending the

systems of Copernicus and Galileo. It is important here to remark

that the decree of 26th February, 1616, forbidding Galileo to

teach the doctrine of the immobility of the _sun_ was

scientifically correct, even tried by our modern scientific

standard. "Ut supradictam opinionem quod sol sit centrum mundi et

immobilis ... omnino relinquat, nec eam de cetero quovis modo

teneat, doceat, aut defendat." Will any man of modern science

undertake to say that Galileo was right in denying the rotation

of the sun? Nevertheless, Galileo writes to Picchena: "The result

has not been favorable to my enemies, the doctrine of Copernicus

not having been declared _heretical_, but only as not

consonant with sacred Scripture; whence, the whole prohibition is

of those works in which that consonance was maintained."

Meantime these proceedings, imperfectly known abroad, doubtless

gave rise to reports which the "diabolical malignity" of

Galileo's enemies (as he styled it) did not fail to exaggerate.

Hence, the certificate which he procured shortly after from

Cardinal Bellarmine. The enemies Galileo speaks of were at first

not in Rome but in Tuscany, as Libri, in his _Histoire des

Sciences_, (p. 231,) is at some pains to explain.

{330}

The sermon of Caccini, who took for his text Josue x. 12, "Move

not, O sun, toward Gabaon; nor thou, O moon, toward the valley of

Ajalon," quoting from the Acts of the Apostles, "Ye men of

Galilee, why stand you here looking up to heaven?"--was preached

in Florence, and the friar-preacher was called to severe account

for it by his superior at Rome, the general of the Dominicans.

Here is the estimate in which Caccini's performance was held at

the time in Rome: "All to whom I have spoken," writes an eminent

ecclesiastic, Castelli, "think it great impertinence in preachers

to mount their pulpits to treat of such high, professor-like

matters, _(matterie di cattedra e tanto elevate,)_ before

women and people where there are so few to understand them." And

really Castelli's sentiment is not without its salt, even when we

transfer it from the 17th to the 19th century. Cardinal

Bellarmine's opinion as to Galileo appears in an extract from a

letter of Ciampoli, March 21st, 1615, who states the conclusion

of a long conversation between Cardinal del Monte and Cardinal

Bellarmine on the subject of the new opinions to be as follows:

"_By confining himself to the system_ AND IT'S

DEMONSTRATION, without interfering with the Scriptures, the

interpretation of which they wish to have confined to theological

professors approved and authorized for the purpose, Galileo would

be secure against any contradiction; but that otherwise

explanations of Scripture, however ingenious, will be admitted

with difficulty when they depart from the common opinion of the

fathers."

The sensation and consequent discussion resulting from Galileo's

discoveries had induced Bellarmine to submit them to four of the

most scientific fathers of his order (Jesuits) for their opinion.

One of these fathers was the renowned Clavius. Their answer is

published in _Venturi_, part I, p. 167, and shows that they

approved the discoveries. As to Cardinal Bellarmine himself, it

would take us too far out of our way to show from overwhelming

testimony that he never questioned the _truth_ of Galileo's

doctrine, but only his imprudent manner of propounding it. His

position, in his own words, was this, and his words are full of

wisdom: "_When a demonstration shall be found_ to establish

the earth's motion, it will be proper to interpret the sacred

Scriptures otherwise than they have been hitherto in those

passages where mention is made of the stability of the earth and

movements of the heavens." So ended the first judicial inquiry,

and these two great men, Cardinals Barberini and Bellarmine, thus

appear to have providentially left on record a sufficient answer

to modern misrepresentation, while showing themselves to be the

true friends of science. "Prove your system"--"Demonstrate it,"

they substantially say to Galileo--"and give yourself no concern

about the Scriptures!--the theologians will take care of them."

Indeed, the sentiments of these cardinals of the 17th seem to

anticipate the language of the Holy Father in the 19th century.

"This most tender mother, the Catholic Church, recognizes and

justly proclaims," says Pius IX. as cited by Father Hecker in his

_Aspirations of Nature_, "that among the gifts of Heaven the

most distinguished is that of reason, by means of which we raise

ourselves above the senses, and present in ourselves a certain

image of God. Certainly, the church does not condemn the labors

of those who wish to know the truth, since God has placed in

human nature the desire of laying hold of the true; nor does she

condemn the effort of sound and right reason, by which the mind

or cultivated nature is searched and her more hidden secrets

brought to light."

{331}

(Pius IX.'s letter to the bishops of Austria.) The Holy Father,

in his various encyclicals, has repeatedly given eloquent

expression to the necessity and true use of reason and of

science; and these are the worldly arms whose skilful use by our

priests and missionaries will most avail where worldly arms are

needed to carry the outposts of intrenched positions in which

there are conversions to make or souls to be saved.

On the termination of the inquiry of 1616, Galileo had an

audience with Pope Paul V., who received him very graciously and

gave him every assurance of good-will and friendship, his

Holiness assuring him in parting that the Congregation were no

longer in a humor to listen lightly to calumnies against him, and

that so long as he occupied the papal chair Galileo might

consider himself safe. In his introduction to the Dialogue,

(1630,) Galileo thus speaks of this visit: "_Mi trovai allora

presente in Roma; ebbi non solo udienze ma ancora applausi dei

piu eminenti Prelati di quella Corte_."

Here is the certificate referred to, which was given to Galileo

by Cardinal Bellarmine:

"We, Robert Bellarmine, having learned that the Signor

Galileo-Galilei has been subjected to false imputations, and

that he has been reproached with having made before us

abjuration of his errors, and that by our order certain

penances were imposed upon him, declare conformably with truth

that the said Galileo, neither before us nor before any other

person whomsoever in Rome, nor in any other place that we are

aware of, made any sort of retraction in relation to any of his

opinions or of his ideas, that no punishment or penance was

inflicted on him; but that a communication was made to him of a

declaration of his Holiness, our sovereign, which declaration

was promulgated by the Sacred Congregation of the Index, from

the tenor of which it results, that 'the doctrine attributed to

Copernicus as to the pretended movement of the earth round the

sun, and as to the place which the sun occupies in the centre

of the world without moving from its rising to its setting, is

opposed to the Holy Scriptures, and consequently may not be

defended or held.'

"In faith of which we have written and signed the present the

26th of May, 1616, as here below. (Signed)

"Robert Cardinal Bellarmine."

The expression "Holy Scriptures," gives the key to the whole

difficulty. The Congregation, in the first place, discriminated

properly in refusing to recognize as a demonstrated proposition

that which as yet was and only could be hypothesis.

We have seen that it was the unyielding obstinacy of Galileo in

continuing to make it a theological or scriptural question that

created all the trouble; and if any one doubts it, he may be

corrected, as was Mr. Drinkwater, by an authority which will

hardly be questioned:

"Mr. Drinkwater seems to be mistaken in supposing that Galileo

did not endeavor to prove his system compatible with Scripture.

In a letter to Christina, Grand-Duchess of Tuscany, the author

(Brenna) of the life in Fabbroni's work tells us that he argued

very elaborately for that purpose. It seems, in fact, to have

been his over desire to prove his theory orthodox, which

incensed the church against it." (Hallam, _Hist. Lit.

Europe_, vol. iv. p. 171.)

In vain Bellarmine cautioned him, "It was essential that he

should _confine himself within his mathematical studies_, if

he wished to secure tranquillity for his labors." In vain

Cardinal Matteo Barberini gave him the same advice. Still Galileo

persisted, although from 1616 to 1632 he was not in the slightest

degree interfered with, and during all that time never ceased

receiving distinguished marks of honor and esteem from pope and

cardinals.

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URBAN VIII. (BARBERINI.)

In August, 1623, Cardinal Barberini was elected pope. His

promotion was hailed by scientific men with enthusiasm. He had

proved himself the friend of Galileo, and on his accession

addressed a letter to the Grand-Duke of Tuscany, felicitating him

on the glory redounding to Etruria by reason of the genius and

discoveries of Galileo.

Meantime, in 1618, Galileo had published his _Theory of the

Tides_, chiefly noted for its hostile tone of sarcasm, and its

scientific incorrectness. He had also been deeply occupied with

his method of finding the longitude at sea, and imagined he had

succeeded. He was, however, mistaken. His method was a failure.

GALILEO'S THIRD VISIT TO ROME

was made in the spring of 1624. He was again enthusiastically

received, and admitted to six long and gratifying audiences with

Urban, whose kindness was most marked. Galileo returned home

laden with presents, besides a pension from Urban of one hundred

crowns yearly, and another of sixty pounds for his son Vincenzo.

"Thus," says the _Edinburgh Review_, "did the Roman pontiff

propitiate the excited spirit of the philosopher, and declare

before the Christian world that he was neither the enemy of

Galileo nor of science."

And now, honored with all these marks of esteem, confidence, and

favor; with the fullest license to prosecute his researches and

publish his discoveries, provided only that he abstained from any

theological complication by dragging the Scriptures into the

discussion, how did Galileo act?

But before answering the question, let us pause a moment to see

what was the condition and reputation, at Rome itself, of

astronomical research in the direction of the new doctrines, and

the estimate in which they were held.

ASTRONOMY IN ROME.

The papal court was filled with the personal friends and

adherents of Galileo and his system. The Pope; Ciampoli, his

private secretary; Castelli, his mathematician; Caesarini, the

Grand Chamberlain, and the most distinguished among the

cardinals, were known to entertain the Copernican doctrine. The

distinguished Jesuit Torquato de Cuppis was delivering lectures

in the Roman College in support of Copernicanism. At the Sapienza

another Jesuit gave similar lectures. Yet another, the

distinguished Scheiner, advanced the system with observations and

discoveries, and, says Bailli, was the first astronomer who

observed and explained (_Sol ellipticus_) the elliptic form

which the sun takes in approaching the horizon. The celebrated

work of the Carmelite friar Foscarini, at Naples, was published

for Roman circulation, and boldly argued not only the Copernican

hypothesis in all its fulness, but its consistency with

Scripture. But more than and beyond all this, the chair of

astronomy in the pope's own university of Bologna, vacant by the

death of Magini in 1616, was tendered to Kepler; thus offering

the teaching of heretical astronomy to a Protestant heretic, who

was if not the most active yet the most efficient advocate of

Copernicanism!

{333}

Indeed, it may be remarked, since Kepler's name is mentioned,

that astronomers were far better off in Catholic Italy than in

Protestant Germany; for while Galileo was teaching in peace and

honor from his professor's chair at Padua, Kepler and Tycho Brahe

met for the first time at Prague. Protestant exiles from

Protestant lands, they found in the munificent protection of

Rudolph safe asylum and an appreciation of their scientific

merits denied them at home.

TYCHO BRAHE.

Hostility was excited against Brahe at the court of Denmark, and,

on the ground of an exhausted treasury and the _inutility_

of his studies, he was degraded from his office, deprived of his

canonry, his pension, and his Norwegian estate, and both his wife

and family obliged to seek shelter in a foreign land. His

injuries and sufferings preyed upon his mind, and he survived

only two years the shameful treatment he had received at the

hands of his Lutheran countrymen. Lalande, in referring to the

persecution of Tycho Brahe, holds up the Minister Walchendorf to

execration and infamy.

KEPLER

was forced to leave home, to accept a professorship at the

Catholic University of Gratz. Why? Wolfgang Menzel informs us,

(_Geschichte der Deutschen_, vol. ii. p. 645:) "The

theologians of Tübingen condemned his discovery, because the

Bible teaches that the sun revolves about the earth, and not the

earth about the sun. He was about to suppress his book, when an

asylum was opened at Gratz. The Jesuits, who better knew how to

prize his scientific talent, retained him, although he openly

avowed his Lutheranism. It was only at home that he suffered

persecution, and it was with difficulty that he succeeded in

saving his own mother from being burnt alive as a witch."

[Footnote 129]

[Footnote 129: For other remarkable features of this

persecution, see _Johann Kepler's Leben und Werken, von G.

L. C. Freiherrn von Breitschwert_.]

If we maybe permitted such homely phrase, English literature

"draws it very mild" when obliged to refer to the shameful

treatment of Kepler and Tycho Brahe. Their persecutors were the

Protestant theologians of Tübingen, and the Lutheran ministers of

the Danish court. Consequently, these barbarous transactions are

always delicately alluded to when not suppressed, and are but

little known. If these preachers had been Roman priests and

cardinals--ah! then indeed! As astronomer, Kepler's first task

was to draw up the Styrian Calendar for 1594. This only served to

add fuel to the flames of the wrath of the Würtemberg divines,

inasmuch as Kepler used the Gregorian calendar. Having no

antipathy to popes as such, he was willing to take the good and

the useful without asking whence it came, and gladly used the

better measure of time.

The Academic Senate straightway addressed Duke Louis in protest

against the introduction of the detested papal calendar; and

their memorial is so eminently characteristic and comical that we

cannot deny our readers the enjoyment of its perusal. Here it is:

"A Christian, sensible, and good-hearted governor knows that in

reformations of this kind he should take counsel of the

ministers of the church. As long as the kings of Judah followed

the counsel of the prophets and other highly enlightened

ministers of the church, they ruled laudably and well--pleasing

unto God. It is only when the temporal power is in a member of

the true church of God that it has authority, with the counsel

of the ministers of the church, to change the outward

ceremonies of the church.

{334}

"As the emperor holds the pope to be the vicar of Christ on

earth, it is not to be wondered at that he has introduced his

calendar into his hereditary dominions, and sent it to the

estates of the Roman empire. Julius Caesar had not members of

his empire who were lords and rulers themselves like the

estates of the present Roman empire. The imperial majesty

understands itself, and, in its letter to the estates, merely

gives them to understand that this accommodating themselves to

his word will give the highest satisfaction.

"But the new calendar has manifestly been devised for the

furtherance of the idolatrous popish system, and we justly hold

the pope to be a cruel, devouring, bear-wolf. If we adopt his

calendar, we must go into the church when he rings for us.

Shall we have fellowship with Antichrist? And what concord is

there between Christ and Belial?

"Should he succeed through the imperial authority in fastening

his calendar about our neck, he would bring the cord in such a

way about our horns that we could no longer defend ourselves

against his tyranny in the church of God.

"The pope hereby grasps at the electoral hats of the princes of

the empire. If the new calendar be not generally adopted, the

world will not go to ruin on that account. Summer will not come

sooner or later if the vernal equinox should be set a few days

further back or forward in the calendar; no peasant will be so

simple as, on account of the calendar, to send out his reapers

at Whitsuntide, or the gatherers into his vineyard at St.

James' day. These are merely the pretexts of the people who

stroke the foxtail of the pope and would not be thought to do

so. Satan is driven out of the Christian church. We will not

let him slip in again through his representative the pope."

And since we speak of Kepler, it may here be remarked that the

appreciation in which Galileo and Kepler are held in general

historical literature is far from according with the estimate of

scientific men. It is assumed that Galileo was persecuted, and

that the church was his persecutor. Elevated on the pedestal of

his trial at Rome, the man of science is lost in the martyr, and

the Tuscan philosopher appears in bold relief on the page of

history, while Kepler, the greater astronomer, remains invisible.

It is thought, and not without reason, that, but for the

Inquisition, the relative reputation of these two great men would

be reversed, and the transcendent genius of Galileo's Lutheran

contemporary, the legislator of the planets, have been long since

recognized. In their anxiety to make the strongest possible case

against Rome, anti-Catholic writers have, some perhaps

unconsciously, and some with set purpose, greatly exaggerated all

the abilities and good qualities of Galileo, and invested him

with a superiority far from merited. To believe them, one must

look upon Galileo as immeasurably excelling all his predecessors

and contemporaries--centring within himself almost superhuman

qualities of research and scientific attainment. Merit, talent,

genius, Galileo certainly possessed; but tried by a scientific

standard, it was inferior to that of the more modest and less

clamorous Kepler.

Galileo's true and enduring merit as founder of the modern

science of dynamics, and as the author of the grandly suggestive

principle of the virtual velocities, is entirely overlooked to

claim for him a position in modern astronomy which cannot justly

be accorded to him except as secondary to Copernicus, to Kepler,

and probably to Newton. The preeminence claimed for the Tuscan

astronomer will not stand the test of examination. With English

readers, it mainly rests on Hume's celebrated parallel between

Bacon and Galileo. "The discoveries of Kepler," remarks Professor

Playfair, "were secrets extracted from nature by the most

profound and laborious research. The astronomical discoveries of

Galileo, more brilliant and imposing, were made at a far less

expense of intellectual labor." [Footnote 130]

[Footnote 130: M. Thomas Henri Martin, author of the very

latest work on Galileo, is not at all of the Scotch

professor's opinion, but follows and even surpasses Hume in

laudation of Galileo.]

{335}

MARTYRS OF SCIENCE.

But to return. If, besides Kepler and Tycho Brahe, another martyr

of science is needed, he may be seen in the person of Descartes,

hunted clown by the Protestant churchmen of Holland.

Nay, if suffering science herself is looked for, she may be found

in the Gregorian calendar, for more than a century refused

admission or recognition by an English parliament that would

rather quarrel with all the stars in heaven than count time with

Rome! "Truth," as Hallam remarks, "being no longer truth when

promulgated by the pope!" Among the very few men in all England

who treated the Gregorian calendar with any degree of politeness

was Lord Chesterfield, then a member of parliament. He writes,

(March 18th, 1751, old style,) "The Julian calendar was

erroneous, and had overcharged the solar year with eleven days.

Pope Gregory XIII. corrected this error. His reformed calendar

was immediately received by all the Catholic powers of Europe,

and afterward adopted by all the Protestant ones except Russia,

Sweden, and England. It was not, in my opinion, very honorable

for England to remain in a gross and avowed error, especially in

such company. The inconvenience of it was likewise felt by all

those who had foreign correspondences, whether political or

mercantile."

Lord Chesterfield was mainly instrumental in getting up the bill

for its introduction. On mentioning the project to the prime

minister, the Duke of Newcastle, then in the zenith of his power,

the noble duke seemed most conservatively alarmed at such an

undertaking, and conjured the earl (Chesterfield) not to stir

matters that had long been quiet; adding that he did not love

new-fangled things. Lord Mahon, in his history, gives several

curious instances of the resentment of the English people against

those who aided in bringing about the change in the calendar;

thus, when in 1754 Lord Macclesfield's son stood a great

contested election in Oxfordshire, one of the most vehement cries

raised against him was, "Give us back the eleven days we have

been robbed of!" and even several years later, when Bradley, the

astronomer, worn down by his labors in the cause of science, was

sinking under mortal disease, many of the common people ascribed

his sufferings to a judgment of Heaven for having taken part in

that infamous undertaking.

Suffering science may again be found in England in the person of

Alban Francis, insultingly refused the degree of A.M. by the

University of Cambridge in 1687, but afterward mockingly offered

it on condition that he--a Benedictine monk--should take the

state oath pronouncing the Catholic religion damnable and

idolatrous, when it was well known that the degree had been given

to men of every variety of nationality and religious profession,

even in one case to the Mohammedan secretary of the ambassador of

Morocco!

Suffering science again in the English statutes, 7th Will. III.,

ch. 4, s. 1 and 9, by virtue of which:

1. If a Catholic in Ireland kept school, or taught any person

any species of literature or science, such teacher was

punishable by law with banishment; and if he returned, he was

subject _to be hanged as a felon_.

2. If a Catholic child received literary instruction from a

Catholic, either privately or at school, such child, even

though in its infancy, incurred a forfeiture of all its

property present or future.

{336}

3. And thus deprived of the means of knowledge, if the Catholic

child went into a foreign country for education, the child

incurred the same penalty, as also the person making any

remittance of goods or money for its maintenance!

Suffering science again, within but a few years, in the persons

of such geological writers as Dr. Buckland, denounced by leading

English periodicals and respectable quarterlies--recognized

organs of Protestant opinion--(each one a special,

self-constituted, oecumenical council _ad hoc_,) for

assigning dates to rocks and fossil remains, which were supposed

by alarmed Protestant theologians to vary from the Mosaic

accounts.

We present these facts not by way of the justification that,

ignorance and persecution being alleged to exist on the Catholic

side, there are also such things as Protestant persecution and

ignorance; for the one will not excuse the other, any more than

two wrongs will make a right.

Pass your own conscientious verdict, reader, on all these

transactions, and bear in mind that Galileo's real enemies were

of the same class of men who persecuted Kepler in Würtemberg,

Tycho Brahe in Denmark, and Descartes in Holland. The first were

Catholic, all the last were Protestants; but all were adherents

of the old Ptolemaic system and the Aristotelian philosophy. And

that was the field on which the battle was fought in Italy, until

Galileo insisted on dragging in the Scriptures. The pope and the

cardinals esteemed and honored Galileo personally, and, as we

see, were far from being in the Peripatetic ranks.

But how did Galileo act after leaving Rome in 1616, and why was

he, of all the well-known Copernicans, singled out for

prosecution?

WHENCE THE CHANGE?

How came it about? Were there elements in the controversy other

than scientific? Was it, or not, the fault of Galileo that the

question was shifted from the safe repose of the scientific basis

on which it had remained more than fourscore years?

Now we could readily answer these questions thoroughly in very

few words, feeling certain, in advance, that the reply would be

satisfactory to our Catholic readers. But, writing for the

general public, we prefer to present the results ascertained in

this much vexed matter by historians, astronomers, and men of

science removed by nationality and by religion from any possible

bias.

"It was not the doctrine itself," says Mr. Drinkwater, "so much

as the free, unyielding manner in which it was supported, which

was originally obnoxious."

"The church party," admits Sir David Brewster, "were not disposed

to interfere with the prosecution of science, however much they

may have dreaded its influence."

In the opinion of Dr. Whewell, "Under the sagacious and powerful

sway of Copernicus, astronomy had effected a glorious triumph;

but under the bold and uncompromising sceptre of Galileo, all her

conquests were irrevocably lost." And he adds, referring to the

misfortunes that assailed the reformers of philosophy, "But the

most unfortunate were, for the most part, the least temperate and

judicious." (_Philosophy of Discovery_, pp. 101-2.)

Even Fra Paolo (Sarpi) thought that if Galileo had been less

impetuous and more prudent, he need not have had the slightest

difficulty.

{337}

Tiraboschi expresses himself to the same effect. And Alberi, the

learned editor of the only complete edition of Galileo's works,

says: "Crediamo col Tiraboschi, che il fervore e l'impetuosità

sua contribuissero ad irritare gli avversari del sistema

Copernico."

"It is doubtless an extraordinary fact," says the _Edinburgh

Review_, (October, 1837,) "in the history of the human mind,

that the very same doctrines which had been published with

impunity by Copernicus, and in a work, too, dedicated to the

Roman Pontiff, Paul III., for the avowed purpose of sheltering

them under his sacred aegis, should, nearly a hundred years

afterward, when civilization had made some progress, have

subjected Galileo to all the terrors of the Inquisition. If we

study, however, the conduct of Galileo himself, and consider his

temper and tone of mind, and his connection with a political

party unfriendly to religion, as well as to papal government, we

shall be at no loss to account for the different feelings with

which the writings of Copernicus and Galileo were received. Had

the Tuscan philosopher been a recluse student of nature who, like

Copernicus, announced his opinions as accessions to knowledge,

and not as subversive of old and deeply cherished errors; had he

stood alone as the fearless arbiter and champion of truth, the

Roman pontiffs would, probably, like Paul III., have tolerated

the new doctrine; and like him, too, they might probably have

embraced it. But Galileo contrived to surround the truth with

every variety of obstruction. The tide of knowledge which had

hitherto advanced in peace, he crested with angry breakers; and

he involved in its surf both his friends and his enemies. When

the more violent partisans of the church, in opposition to the

wishes of some of its higher functionaries, and spurred on by the

school-men and the personal enemies of Galileo, had fixed the

public attention upon the obnoxious doctrine, it would not have

been easy for the most tolerant pontiff to dismiss charges of

heresy and irreligion without some formal decision on the

subject."

The astronomer Délambre: "On aurait passé à Galileo, de parler en

mathématicien de l'excellence de la nouvelle hypothèse; mais on

soutenait qu'il devait abandonner aux théologiens

l'interpretation de l'Ecriture." (It was free to Galileo to speak

as a mathematician of the merit of the new doctrine; but it was

claimed that he should leave interpretation of Scripture to the

theologians.)

The historian Hallam: "For eighty years the theory of the earth's

motion had been maintained without censure, and it could only be

the greater boldness of Galileo which drew upon him the notice of

the church."

Philarète Chasles, (Professor in the College of France:)

"Galileo, a man of vast and fertile intellect, was not in advance

of his age and country; he was incapable either of defending the

truth or eluding the efforts of those who endeavored to destroy

it. In his contests with the latter, he showed neither grandeur

of mind nor frankness of character. Unstable, timorous,

equivocating, and supple," etc., etc.

Alfred von Reumont, many years Prussian minister at the Court of

Tuscany, (see his _Beiträge zur Italienischen Geschichte_,

Berlin, 1853:) "Galileo's great mistake was, that he insisted on

bringing into conformity with the Scriptures the doctrine of the

earth's motion--a hypothetical and then incomplete doctrine, and

one denied by many of the most learned, such as Bacon and Tycho

Brahe.

{338}

So that, in the interpretation of certain passages in the Bible,

an arbitrary discretion was assumed which the Church, according

to her invariable principles, could not concede to an

astronomical doctrine as yet unproved."

Such citations as these might be multiplied indefinitely. But

they are sufficient, and more than sufficient.

Copernicus, as we have seen, dedicated his great work to Pope

Paul III., with these remarkable words: "Astronomers being

permitted to imagine circles, to explain the motions of the

stars, I thought myself equally entitled to examine if the

supposition of the motion of the earth would make the theory of

these appearances more exact and simple."

Eighty years had gone by, and the system had undergone no

"persecution," in Italy at least. Galileo was now sixty years of

age; nearly forty of these years had been passed, not only in the

safe but triumphant and even aggressive and defiant vindication

of his astronomical and physical doctrines, without let or

hindrance save the warning not to trench on the theological view.

But this he could not bring himself to consent to, and in 1618,

in publishing his _Theory of the Tides_, he indulged in a

stream of sarcasm and insult against the decree of 1616. "The

same hostile tone, more or less," says Drinkwater, "pervaded all

his writings; and while he labored to sharpen the edge of his

satire, he endeavored to guard himself against its effects by an

affectation of the humblest deference to the decisions of

theology." Nor was Galileo's letter to Christina forgotten. It

was a letter, widely diffused at Rome and in Tuscany, in which he

undertook to prove theologically, and from reasons drawn from the

fathers, that the terms of Scripture might be reconciled with his

new doctrines, etc. Délambre, Hallam, and Biot all take the same

view of it.

THE CELEBRATED DIALOGUES.

Galileo had now resolved to publish a work demonstrating the

Copernican theory, or rather, his own views of the earth's

motion. But he lacked the courage or the sincerity to do it in an

open, straightforward manner, and adopted the plan of discussing

it in a supposed dialogue held by three disputants. The two

first, Sagredo and Salviati, are represented as accomplished and

learned gentlemen, whose arguments are marked by talent and

ability. The third, Simplicio, is an old Peripatetic, querulous

and dogmatic, measuring everything by Aristotle, and accepting or

rejecting accordingly.

This work, entitled _The System of the World of

Galileo-Galilei_, was completed in 1630; but, owing to the

delays attending the procuring a certificate, it was not

published until 1633. "It is prolix and diffuse," says Délambre,

"with high estimate of his own discoveries, but depreciation of

others." "Indeed, I would advise scholars," says Arago, "not to

lose their time reading it."

More than one historian has remarked that, in obtaining the

license to print, Galileo exhibited a dexterous management,

tinged with bad faith. Biot mentions, "par quels detours il s'en

procura une approbation a Rome;" Délambre speaks of his "manque

absolu de sincérité;" and Sir David Brewster says, "His memory

has not escaped the imputation of having acted unfairly, and of

having involved his personal friends in the consequences of his

imprudence."

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In as few words as possible, the history of the license affair is

as follows. The censor of new publications at Rome was Riccardi,

a friend and pupil of Galileo, and devoted to his master. Anxious

to oblige him, Riccardi examined the manuscript of the dialogues,

suggested the change of some imprudent language, and required

absolutely that the Copernican doctrine, dogmatically presented,

should be--either in the exordium or peroration of the

argument--produced simply as a mathematical hypothesis. Under

these stipulations Riccardi returned the manuscript with his

written approbation, only to be used when the suggested

alterations should be made.

This was in 1630. In 1633, Galileo applied for leave to have his

book printed in Florence. Riccardi, with full confidence in

Galileo's fulfilment of his promises, merely inspected the

beginning and end of the book, which was all that Galileo then

submitted to his examination, and gave the desired leave to

print.

The introduction, addressed, with an air of sarcasm, "_to the

discreet reader_" was, to the last degree, imprudent. He

speaks of the decree of 1616 in language at once ironical and

insulting, and does not even spare his benefactors. In Simplicio,

every one instantly recognized Urban VIII., who was naturally

wounded beyond expression to find language put in Simplicio's

mouth that he, Urban, had used to Galileo in a private

conversation at his own table. And, as if to leave no doubt

possible, Galileo says, in introducing these passages, that he

had them from a most learned and eminent personage, ("_già

appreso da doctissima e eminentissima persona._")

Thus held up to ridicule and contempt, and made the butt of the

severest irony and sarcasm, Urban was placed in the false

position of the enemy of science, and forced into the attitude of

an antagonist of his former friend--unless, indeed, he would

consent to be dragged, a disgraced prisoner, at the

chariot-wheels of Galileo's philosophy.

We do not refer, in speaking of Galileo's philosophy, to a mere

astronomical theory, but to the philosophical and theological

opinion which the actual condition of science, the ability of

Galileo's adversaries, and the treacherous counsels of his false

friends had forced him to couple with it.

Alberi, who is high authority, denies that it was Galileo's

intention to attack Urban VIII. through Simplicio. But Olivieri,

quite as good authority, is of the contrary opinion.

We know certainly that Urban always maintained, in his

conversations with Galileo, the worthlessness of the tidal

theory, and told him plainly that he injured his position by

resting upon it. Now, the tidal theory was precisely Galileo's

cherished argument, and he devotes the whole of the fourth

dialogue to its development.

Concluded In Our Next.

----------

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Translated From Der Katholik.

The Ancient Irish Church.

II.

We must say something about St. Columbanus, and his labors in

Luxeuil, Braganza, and Bobbio; and of St. Gall, the apostle of

Alemania; for it was through these two that the ancient Irish

Church did so much in Switzerland and south-western Germany.

Columbanus was born in the province of Leinster, about the year

534, when Christianity began to bear its first fruits in Ireland.

While the child was yet in the womb, his mother saw, in a vision,

as it were, a sun proceeding from her body and enlightening all

parts of the world. The son whom she bore became in fact, through

the light of his wisdom and the splendor of his virtues, a star

in the church; not only in Ireland, but also in Burgundy,

Alemania, and Italy. Instructed, from early youth, in grammar,

rhetoric, geometry, and in the study of the holy Scriptures, he

left his mother's house in manhood, in order to enter the

monastery of Cluain-Inis, and consecrate himself entirely to God.

In the year 565 he asked to be received among the monks of the

monastery at Bangor, which the Abbot Comgall, equally

distinguished by his personal sanctity as well as by the rigor of

the discipline which he used in governing, ruled with applause.

Columbanus became so remarkable here that Abbot Comgall entrusted

him with the directorship of the schools. The fame of the new

teacher spread far beyond the limits of Bangor, and the nobles of

the land deemed themselves happy to be able to leave their sons

to be educated by a man as well skilled in profane science as in

Christian perfection. Gall, born in Ireland in 545, became one of

his pupils. Columbanus and Gall taught and learned in a blessed

abode. Three thousand monks were united in the monastery of

Bangor, under Abbot Comgall, in common prayer, the practice of

virtue, and a virtuous life. The monastery was built in the year

558, by Comgall, and was, in its first form, a collection of many

cells and huts, somewhat straggling in their arrangement. Bangor

was fruitful in holy men and apostolic missionaries. Many

convents were founded from it. Comgall himself founded the

monastery of Heth, in Scotland, A.D. 565, and the monastery of

Cambar, and several other smaller communities, in Leinster.

Comgall died on the 10th of May, 602, in the 85th year of his

age, and the forty-fourth after the foundation of Bangor. Bangor

was laid waste by the Danes in the year 823, afterward entirely

destroyed by pirates, and on one day the Picts murdered 900

monks. Archbishop Malachy, of Armagh, re-erected Bangor. There

now remains on the coast of the bay of Belfast, where the

renowned cloister once stood, no vestige of its former greatness.

Columbanus had lived and taught a number of years in the cloister

of Bangor, when the desire of travelling and announcing the

gospel of Christ filled his soul. He was obliged, however, to

make repeated requests before Abbot Comgall gave him permission

to depart, and allowed him to choose a certain number of monks as

his companions.

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Columbanus chose twelve, recommended himself to the prayers of

the rest, and set out, after receiving the blessings of his

abbot, with his chosen band about the year 589-590. We know the

travels of Columbanus, and must mention them here. The chosen

followers of the great apostle were: Gall, founder of Saint Gall,

and apostle of Alemania; Cominnius, Emroch, and Equanach, Lua,

and Patentianus, afterwards made bishop of Constance, in

Armorica, where he erected a monastery; Antiernus, who, becoming

homesick at Luxeuil, wished to return to Ireland, but was

retained by Columbanus; Columbanus the younger, a near relative

of our apostle, died in the early part of his life, at Luxeuil;

Deicola, the founder of the monastery of Lutra, in the diocese of

Besançon; Sigibert, the founder of Dissentis, in Croatia; Aldan,

later Bishop of Calboaldus. (_Greith_, p. 272.) In British

Cambria the holy company joined several British clerics to its

ranks.

Whither did these apostolic men wish to go?

It was not advisable to remain in Britain at that time. In the

south of this land the Anglo-Saxon conquerors laid waste the

country, destroyed the churches; both heathenism and barbarism

raised their heads triumphantly in the most populous parts and

cities of the island. The two last bishops of Britain, he of

London and he of York, fled to the mountains of Wales, with all

the holy relics and church vessels which they could save. On

account of these circumstances Columbanus determined to leave

Britain, to sail for Gaul, and there improve the moral condition

of the people, so that if success attended his labors, the good

seed might be scattered there with fruit; but if the people were

stiff-necked, he would turn to other nations.

The company went to Gaul. This land was divided into three

kingdoms: Neustria, Austrasia, and Burgundy. King Guntram ruled

in Burgundy; King Childebert in Austrasia; but after Guntram's

death, (A.D. 593,) Burgundy also fell to the share of Childebert.

Columbanus was warmly received at Metz by King Childebert, was

invited to remain in the land, and received from Count Agnoald

the ancient ruined castle of Luxovium in the Vosges, where the

apostle and his monks dwelt, and exercised an extraordinary

influence on the people of the neighboring countries.

But how did the noble wanderers find life in the Vosges?

They first rested at Anegrai. "In the wide circle around, the

region was a wild desert of thick woods, and steep, rock-ribbed

hills; bears and wolves dwelt in them, and only the shrill cry of

the birds of the forests broke the frightful stillness. The

friars built their huts with twigs and branches. They lived on

the bark of trees, wild vegetables, and apples, until, on the

third day after their arrival, a countryman brought them better

food on a wagon. But, as want returned after a short time, they

were well supplied with bread and herbs by the abbot of the

monastery of Sancy, three miles distant from them."

But the first monastery was erected, and the mission opened in

France. Soon the place in Anegrai was not large enough for the

increasing number of the brethren.

Columbanus looked around for a second place in the wilderness of

the Vosges. His eyes rested on Luxovium, which had already been

offered to him. It was eight miles from Anegrai. There were in it

the ruins of cities, of old baths; and in the thickest part of

the wood, stone idols, which had been worshipped in ancient

times.

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In this spot Columbanus began the building of a larger monastery.

Soon so many came and consecrated themselves, under the guidance

of Columbanus, to piety and science, that the saint was compelled

to erect on a height, supplied by a fountain of fair water, a

third monastery, to which he gave the name of Fontaine,

(Fontanas.) Whilst he appointed approved men as rulers over these

monasteries, he maintained a general supervision over them all,

and gave them a common rule, which he copied in part from the

rule of the Abbot Comgall, of Bangor.

The Right Rev. Dr. Greith gives us a very interesting account of

the life and works of the monk Columbanus in the three

monasteries; but we can only give a small portion of it here.

In the year 600 the number of the monks at Luxeuil had increased

to 220; and crowds of scholars were instructed in the

monasteries.

"All must fast daily, but also daily take nourishment; and as all

must eat daily, so must they daily partake of spiritual food,

pray, work, and read in books every day." The special usages of

monastic discipline were observed most strictly in the three

cloisters; violators of rules were punished with rods,

imprisonment, or a portion of their food was kept from them.

"Before eating there was an examination of conscience, then grace

was said, and there was reading during the meals. Before a monk

used his spoon, he should make the sign of the cross; the same

should be done in taking his lamp, in undertaking any work, or in

going out of the cloister. He was commanded to pray before and

after labor, and on his return to the monastery he should go

before the abbot or superior and ask a blessing. Whoever cut the

table with his knife, spilled beer or anything else on the table,

did not gather the bread-crumbs, neglected to bow his head at the

end of the psalms, or disturbed the chaunt with coughing or loud

laughter, was punished," etc. Divine service at Luxeuil consisted

in the daily reciting of the psalms, and, especially on Sundays

and other festivals, in the celebration of Mass. The custom of

uninterrupted psalmody by day and night never prevailed at

Luxeuil, as was the case among the monks of Agane in Wallis, and

of Haben in Burgundy, and among the nuns of the convent of St.

Salaberga.

Columbanus, well educated in both profane and sacred literature,

taught his own monks, made them acquainted with the discipline of

the _Quadrivium_, and gave them a knowledge of holy

Scripture.

Columbanus often retired at the approach of the principal feasts

into the solitude of the forests to devote himself to piety and

meditation. He sometimes remained fifty days or longer in those

places. As in the ages of persecution the blood of the martyrs

tamed the tigers and leopards, so that they learned to pity the

saints in the circus and amphitheatre; as in the deserts of

Africa and Asia Minor holy monks formed a league with nature and

its animals, so Columbanus and Gall, whose life was like that of

the early fathers of the desert, stood in the most friendly

relations with the wild beasts of the Vosges. "As Columbanus was

walking one day in the wide forests of the Vosges with a book

under his arm, he saw a pack of wolves approaching. The saint

stood unmoved.

{343}

The wolves surrounded him on both hands, smelled the hem of his

garments while he prayed to God for protection; they did him no

harm, left him and went farther into the wood." Once Columbanus

found in a cave a tame bear, which left its abode at command of

the saint, who made it his place of shelter. Often, as he reposed

under the shadow of old oaks, he called the beasts of the forest

to him, and they followed him. He caressed them tenderly; and the

birds often flew to him, and sat quietly on his shoulders. A

little squirrel had become so accustomed to him as to leap from

the branches of the trees and hide in his bosom, run up his

sleeves, and then go back to the nearest boughs. A raven was so

obedient to him as to return the glove which he had stolen from

the saint. (Page 294.)

Columbanus could not remain long in his cloister. He became

engaged in a controversy with some French priests, and was

persecuted by the corrupt Merovingians, who finally compelled him

to quit Luxeuil.

The fact that the Irish clergy clung to the ancient custom of the

Irish Church regarding the celebration of Easter, and to the

Irish traditions regarding the liturgy of the Mass, gave the

French bishops and priests occasion to complain and make

opposition. Columbanus wrote three letters on the Easter

Controversy to Pope Gregory I. Two of them miscarried; the third

reached its destination, but was unsuccessful, because Gregory I.

maintained the discipline of the Roman Church on this disputed

point. A synod in France, A.D. 600-601, to which Columbanus sent

a memorial, did not favor him any more than the Pope. The

controversy gradually died out.

The controversy with the Merovingians was far more serious. The

crimes of Queen Brunhilda are well known; for instance, how she

systematically ruined her grandson, King Theodoric of Burgundy.

Columbanus on one occasion having refused to give his blessing to

the illegitimate sons of Theodoric, presented to the saint by

Brunhilda, she swore vengeance against him. A royal decree was

published that no monk of the order of Columbanus should leave

his monastery; that no Burgundian convert should for the future

hold communion with him, and that no one should establish another

foundation according to his discipline. Columbanus expostulated

in vain; he wrote a severe protest to the king and threatened him

with excommunication. This was the moment of revenge for

Brunhilda. She prevailed on the king to cause the abduction of

the saint to Besançon by Count Bandulf. Columbanus remained there

for some time, highly honored by the people, and doing much good.

But he soon returned to Luxeuil. The king, however, sent a whole

cohort to seize him and take him out of the kingdom. The soldiers

unwillingly executed their orders. The saint left the monastery

amid the sighs and tears of his monks, who followed him in

funereal procession with weeping and wailing. Only those whom he

had brought from Ireland and Britain were allowed to accompany

him. Columbanus lived twenty years in the wilderness of the

Vosges, and left it in the seventy-fourth year of his life. (A.D.

609-610.)

Let us be brief. Columbanus was brought to Nantes to sail for

Ireland; but God prevented him. King Clothaire of Neustria

allowed him to return to Austrasia. He went to Metz, then to

Mayence, up the Rhine, until he came to Zurich, where he decided

to make a longer stay.

{344}

But the inhabitants of the place were fierce idolaters. Many were

converted, while others took arms in hatred of the saint,

determined to kill himself and his companions. They consequently

left this region and went to Arbon, where they dwelt seven days;

thence travelling to Braganza, where they built cells near the

ancient Aurelia Church. St. Gall took the three idols from the

walls of the church, in the presence of a vast multitude, broke

them to pieces, and threw them into the sea. A portion of the

people became Christians, and the Aurelia Church was

reconsecrated. Columbanus remained a few years in Braganza, when

persecutions of various kinds compelled him to quit this region

also. (612-613.) He crossed the Rhetian Alps, accompanied only by

Attala, and arrived at Milan, where he was well received by

Agilulf, king of the Lombards, who offered him a new field for

the exercise of his apostolate. King Agilulf and Queen

Theodolinda used the holy man for the evangelizing of the

Lombards. But his days were numbered. After building a monastery

and a chapel at Bobbio, he lived only an entire year, and died on

the 21st December, in the year 615, in the seventy-ninth year of

his age, one year before the death of Agilulf, king of Lombardy.

"Whilst Ireland glories in being the fatherland of Columbanus,

France remembers him in her old abbeys in the Vosges, and his

vocation to Italy still lives, not only in the dear relics of

Bobbio, in his coffin, chalice, and holly staff, but also in the

still living monument of his glory the town of St. Columbano, in

the district of Lodi. The writings of this distinguished man,

which have come down to us, display a comprehensive and varied

knowledge not only of ecclesiastical but also of classic

literature. His eventful life has been written by the monk Jonas

of Bobbio."

We shall conclude with a few details of the mission of St. Gall,

the apostle of Alemania. We already know in what an illustrious

school he studied. When Columbanus was preparing himself for the

journey to Italy, Gall was sick with a fever, and excused himself

from travelling with his superior. In order to keep him and

compel him to go, Columbanus harshly said to him, "If thou wilt

not partake in my labors, I forbid thee to say Mass as long as I

live." He suspected that Gall feigned sickness out of love for

the place, so as not to depart from it. Thus Gall, who had been

so long under obedience, was at length left to his own will.

He went to Arbon to visit a priest, Willimar, and was nursed

during his illness by the clerics Maginald and Theodore, and,

having recovered his health, became again an efficient apostle

through the assistance of Christ. In 612-613, he began, with his

companion Hittibold, the building of a monastery on the bank of

the little river Steinach. This valley on the banks of the

Steinach, together with Thurgau, belonged at that time to the

kingdom of Austrasia, from which it had been severed under

Childebert II. (594) for a short time, and separated from

Burgundy, to which it was again annexed by King Dagobert. (A.D.

630-38.) Two hundred years later, in the days of Charlemagne,

this region was called High Alemania. When Gall came to it, it

was almost without dwellings or inhabitants. It was a primeval

forest, never inhabited for a thousand years, and never touched

by human hands. It was like the woods of the Vosges, a wilderness

for savage beasts to roam in without danger.

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The wood which Gall and Hittibold found was full of underwood in

which serpents nestled; the Steinach was full of fish; on the

heights hawks built their nests; bears, wolves, and wild boars

were numerous around. In this spot St. Gall built his monastery.

Wonderful things happened at the building of this convent, all of

which is charmingly told in Greith's book. "As, in every spot

where, after the migration of the Germanic races, (p. 355.) holy

men founded religious institutions, a new life was infused and a

new impetus given to civilization, and the wild and savage

districts around the monasteries became changed into fertile and

well-tilled plains; so did it happen in the neighborhood of St.

Gall's monastery from the very beginning of the foundation. The

blessed place drew inhabitants near it; Christian worship became

the focus around which they gathered; religious instruction

ennobled their morals, led them to an orderly family life, made

their new home dear to them, and made them love labor and

industry. Under the mild protection and guidance of the monastic

fraternity, strangers and colonists came from far and near; they

became fiefs of the monastery, and aided in spreading its

influence and its possessions. From this centre civilization

spread far over the surrounding country, so that it became by

cultivation transformed from a wilderness into a blooming garden.

For twelve hundred years the numerous subjects of the monastery

of St. Gall led a happy and peaceful life without soldiers or

police. The only bayonet that governed them was the breviary of

the monk; and the only sword was the crosier of the abbot. We

must also remember that Gall and his followers, axe in hand,

hewed down the forest, or with the spade freed the earth from

thorns, thistles, and roots. He must therefore be considered as

the founder and originator of the agricultural and social glories

of Switzerland; for by the law of nature and of intelligence the

glories of the effect must redound to the honor of the cause."

The building of the monastery of St. Gall was far advanced when

Gall expelled an evil spirit from Fridiburga, the daughter of the

German Duke Cunzo, of Ueberlingen. Duke Cunzo gave him many

presents on this account, as did also King Sigibert, to whom

Fridiburga was affianced. Sigibert sent him a donation letter,

the first on record in the life of St. Gall. Gall had at this

time only twelve disciples with him, deeming it improper to

overstep, in the smallest particular, the limits of the rule. The

Irish monks had a peculiar preference for the apostolic number

twelve in all their foundations. When Columbanus died, on

December 21st, 615, the hour of his death was revealed to St.

Gall, and from that time he began again to celebrate Mass.

Gall declined the bishopric of Constance, and had the mitre given

to his disciple John; the monks of Luxeuil wished him to be their

abbot, but this honor he likewise declined. After the man of God

had thrown aside the burden of worldly affairs, he retired to his

cloister, to devote himself more completely to a spiritual life.

His nightly vigils were renewed, and the fastings of his early

days repeated, and the discipline frequently used.