been condemned, not from want of things to say, but from want of daring and shamelessness; because I did not choose to say the things which would have been pleasantest for you to hear, weeping and lamenting, and saying and doing other things which I affirm to be unworthy of me. But neither did I then think fit to do or say anything unworthy of a freeman; nor do I now repent of having thus defended myself. I would rather have made the one defence and die, than have made the other and live." * Those are the accents which find eternal reverberations. It is thus the martyr speaks and acts. Galileo showed a servile cowardice, as remarkable as the imprudence with which he incurred the peril. Let us pity the old man, let us sympathise with his weakness, but do not let us fling more odium on the Church which persecuted him, and which really, in his case, behaved very leniently, by representing him as a martyr. A brief narrative of the whole case may set this matter in a light which will be new to most readers.

However the calm impartial reader must deplore the frequent obstruction to the cause of truth which churches have thrown in the way of new doctrines, owing to the erroneous, but very natural, confusion of religious with scientific teaching, and to the consequent alarm lest novelty in scientific doctrine should lead to heresy in religion, we must all see that, in the early days of science, such collision was inevitable. Geology had a severe struggle, even in Protestant England, in the nineteenth century, before it could shake off the odium of heterodoxy, and in many circles that odium is still flung at it. We cannot, therefore, wonder if in Rome, early in the seventeenth century, astronomy, just beginning to disclose its truths, alarmed the jealous ignorance of a Church which claimed infallibility on all points. M. Biot very properly reminds us that we must calumniate no one, not even the Inquisition. That body has surely sins enough to answer for, without our

making the burden greater by gratuitous imputations. As a question of doctrine, the Church conceived the opinion of Copernicus to be heretical, and as such condemned it. We may discuss the wisdom of such interference with the development_of scientific truth-we may make Galileo an illustration of the inherent unwisdom of this interference, since the very Church which condemned the opinion found herself forced to revoke that condemnation two centuries afterwards (in 1818)-but we cannot in justice accuse that Church of crime in condemning what it felt to be a heresy. If, therefore, the Church was justified by its own principles in the course it took with respect to the doctrines promulgated by Galileo (and if any one thinks it was not justified, let him imagine the Church of England in presence of an eminent professor who should promulgate dangerous heresies), our indignation can be fairly directed only against its treatment of the heretic; and what was that?

After the invention of the telescope, and after its first revelations, which entirely confirmed the theoretical views of Copernicus, the majority of scientific men being then extremely ignorant (as ill-natured persons insinuate is still the case), and energetically opposed to every novelty not originated by themselves, began by attacking and "refuting the new doctrine. Failing in that, they adopted the other course (also not unknown in these days) of asserting the doctrine to be contrary to Scripture. Some of them averred that the pretended discoveries were fictions, as gross as the voyage of Astolfo; others declared that they had spent whole nights in looking through the telescope, but could see nothing like what Galileo affirmed to be visible; finally, it was clear that Scripture pronounced against the new doctrine. Galileo might have laughed at his refuters, but his accusers were more formidable. 1616 he published an epistle to the Grand-Duchess of Tuscany, in which he undertook to prove theologically, and by passages from the Fathers,

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VOL. LXXXIV.-NO. DXVIII.

that the terms of Scripture admitted of being reconciled with the new views. By this he lost his cause. He was denounced as holding heretical opinions, was summoned to Rome, and there, in spite of all his arguments, he heard the following decree: "To maintain that the sun is placed immovably in the centre of the world is an absurd opinion, false in philosophy, and formally heretical, because expressly contrary to Scripture. To maintain that the earth is not placed in the centre of the world, that it is not immovable, but that it has a daily rotation, is also an absurd proposition, false in philosophy, and, to say the least, an error in faith." In vain did he exert his eloquence and argument; as he showed some degree of stubbornness, he was personally forbidden to defend the opinion which had been condemned.

For sixteen years Galileo pursued his studies, and meditated the work which was to carry conviction into all minds. This work was the celebrated Dialogues. In it a distinguished Venetian and a distinguished Florentine, free from prejudices, having no system of their own, discuss, examine, propose doubts, and yield only to reason. There is a third speaker, Simplicius, who represents the ignorant conservatism of the age. He swears by Aristotle: all opinions are by him judged as true or false in proportion as they agree with or depart from what Aristotle said. If it required great ingenuity to write such a book, it required little less to get it published. Galileo went to Rome, called on the ecclesiastic who exercised the censorship, and boldly presented the work as a collection of scientific fancies," which he desired the censor to read carefully, to strike out anything that might seem in any way improper, and, in short, to exercise a severe censorship with regard to it. The worthy prelate, more orthodox than clear-sighted, read this work, re-read it without detecting any evil, and gave it to one of his colleagues, who confirmed his opinion. He therefore gave full permission for its publication. The ruse had succeeded thus far. Yet, to avail himself of this permission,

Galileo would have been forced to print the work in Rome; and he had too many clear-sighted enemies there, to hope that they would not detect the real nature of his work in time to suppress its publication. He made some excuse respecting the difficulties of printing at Rome, and wrote from Florence to the censor to obtain permission to print the work there, under the condition of gaining the approbation of a Florentine censor. The prelate seems to have had his suspicions roused. He made some difficulties; indicated a Florentine censor; but asked Galileo to send back the permission he had given, that he might once more see the terms in which it was expressed. Galileo was outwitted, returned the permission, and never got it again, nor any other answer; so that, forced to content himself with the Florentine permission, he published his work in Tuscany, 1632, and endeayoured to shield himself by declaring in his preface that these dialogues were a defence of the judgment delivered by Rome against the doctrines of Copernicus. Voltaire might as well have declared his Philosophical Dictionary to have been written in defence of Christianity. No one was deceived by this preface. Certainly no one in Rome could have any doubt as to the purpose of the book; least of all the Pope, who knew that he was personally ridiculed in this book, his own arguments being reproduced by the stupid Simplicius.

We come here to the real and personal cause of Galileo's troubles. In 1825, M. Biot had a long and interesting conversation at the Vatican with an enlightened ecclesiastic, who, he subsequently learned, was no less a person than the Grand Inquisitor. From this person, thoroughly informed, as it turned out, on the whole details of the story, M. Biot heard of Galileo's inconceivable imprudence. "He committed the great mistake of getting into disgrace with the Pope, who had formerly shown him great kindness. He represented the Pope in the Dialogues under the name of Simplicius; and in alluding to the whim he was said to have for writing verses, Galileo did not hesitate to say that the Pope was given to

amorous sonnetteering. Be sure that these personal mistakes powerfully contributed to his ruin." When M. Biot discovered that he had been speaking to the Grand Inquisitor, he very naturally expressed his surprise at the change which had come over the spirit of the world, when a descendant of the judges of Galileo could, in the very Vatican itself, discuss with a descendant of Galileo's disciples the world-famous process, and separate the scientific question from those personal accessories which embittered it. The subsequent republication of the official papers thoroughly confirmed what the Inquisitor had stated; and the opening of M. Biot's third volume is devoted to a lucid reproduction of all the particulars of this famous trial.

Had Galileo taken the advice of the Cardinals Barberino and Bellarmino, to publish his views as mathematical speculations only, it is very probable that he would not have been molested. Copernicus had done so, and the Church was not alarmed. But Galileo's convictions were too strong, or his imprudence too great; and the consequence was, that not only was he denounced by bigoted theologians, but even the science of mathematics itself became denounced as "a diabolical art, and all mathematicians being the authors of heresies ought to be banished from every Christian country." To such lengths will bigotry lead men! The doctrine of Copernicus was condemned as heretical, as we have seen; but in 1623 Galileo's friend, the Cardinal Barberino, became Pope Urban VIII., from whom Galileo had the highest hopes of getting the sentence against the Copernican doctrine removed, because the Pope had shown him great attention, and written verses, astronomical and moral, in admiration of his genius; nay, no sooner was Urban VIII. seated in the pontifical chair, than he addressed a letter to the GrandDuke of Tuscany, in whose service Galileo lived, which mentioned the astronomical discoveries of Galileo among the Tuscan glories. On the strength of this the philosopher hastened to Rome, to endeavour to get a revocation of the sentence. He

soon found that in Rome, as elsewhere, authority is indisposed to unsay what it has once said. He found the Pope himself inclined to take the Aristotelian view; and all were strongly convinced that the interdict was a measure of ecclesiastical prudence. The most moderate suggested to him that no scientific speculations ought to be placed in opposition to the Scriptures. "As to Padre Mostro (the Dominican Ricardi)" writes Galileo, "he adheres neither to the system of Copernicus, nor to that of Ptolemy, but tranquillises his mind by a method of his own, which is vastly convenient: he imagines the presence of angels, who, without any difficulty, move the planets in their paths, so that we have nothing to trouble ourselves about." Finding the case hopeless in this direction, Galileo adopted the plan we have already narrated, and published his Dialogues under a transparent disguise. Rome was in an uproar. The Pope was in a fury (incandescenza) at finding his own arguments made ridiculous, and himself clearly alluded to. Galileo had doubly offended him- as a Pope and as a man: as a Pope, by deceiving the vigilance of the censorship; and as a man, by rendering his opinions ridiculous. At the close of the Fourth Dialogue, Simplicius says, "Here is one argument which I learned from a very learned and a very eminent person, and which settles the whole question: it is that God, being omnipotent and omniscient, may have endowed water with this property of flux and reflux, as well as with an infinity of properties incomprehensible to us. That being so, I conclude that it would be highest audacity in any man to think of limiting that omnipotence and omniscience by any fancy of our invention." This learned and eminent person was the Pope.

Galileo was summoned to appear before the Inquisition. In vain he appealed to his protectors, in vain he alleged his age and infirmities. He was told that he might travel slowly, pian, piano, in a litter, but that come he must. The letters of Galileo's friend Niccolinito the GrandDuke are still extant, and give a

sort of journal of the whole story, full of interesting detail. We there learn that the Pope was greatly incensed, and pursued the matter" as if it were his own cause." Indeed, to all Niccolini's urgent prayers the Pope continued to reply: "Galileo will be examined in due time. But there is one argument which neither he nor any of his disciples have ever been able to answer, nor ever will it is, that God is omnipotent; and if so, why should we pretend to impose necessities upon Him?" This is precisely the argument cited by Simplicius in the Dialogue just quoted.

But although Galileo was forced to appear before the Inquisition, and was greatly alarmed at the peril of his position, it is abundantly evident that he was treated with great respect and consideration. He was never imprisoned. He was allowed a servant, and the visits of friends. He had free egress and ingress, and a garden of the Villa Medici was, offered him for daily promenades. Care was taken that he did not escape, but no other rigour was used. Instead of being "tortured," as Tiraboschi, Libri, and almost all historians assert, nothing is more positive than that he was subject to no other tortures than those of alarm at what might possibly be the upshot of the whole, and of irritation at being forced to retract what he knew to be the truth.

His punishment was very slight. Condemned to imprisonment during the pleasure of the Pope, that sentence was immediately (subito) commuted into detention at the Villa Medici. Even there he only remained a few days, having gained permission to reside with the Archbishop Piccolomini, at Sienna. There he remained five months, and then was permitted to return to his house near Florence, under the express condition of not seeing much company, and of holding no academic meetings. To the close of his life he remained under the suspicious surveillance of the Church; and on his death, fanatics contested the validity of his will, and wanted to refuse him the rites of sepulture, under the pretext of his having expired before the condem

nation of the Church had been removed. But these hateful tentatives were judicially frustrated, and Florence has nothing to answer for as respects the memory of her great philosopher.

If M. Biot's volumes contained nothing but the articles on Newton and Galileo, they would deserve a place in every scientific library; but they deserve a place also for the many agreeable pages of literature they contain, and for the memoirs of Lagrange, Coulomb, Cavendish, Franklin, Gay Lussac, Cauchy, Clouet, Malus, and La Condamine. Apropos of the last named there is an amusing anecdote, which may be detached here. La Condamine's curiosity was invincible; he was the very Paul Pry of science; and this curiosity was coupled with a gaiety and recklessness truly French. In his last illness, being prevented from attending as usual the meetings of the Academy, he had notes brought to him of all the papers which were read there. In one of them he learned that a young surgeon had proposed a bold but dangerous operation for one of the diseases under which he suffered. He sent for this young surgeon, and proposed that the experiment should at once be tried upon himself. "But," hesitated the young man, "if I should unhappily fail?" "Well, what then? I am old and dangerously ill it will be said that nature did not properly assist you. If, on the contrary, you succeed, I will myself draw. up an exact account of your method for the Academy, and you will be a made man." The matter was arranged. The operation began, but La Condamine was not satisfied with suffering; he was curious to learn the whole process. "Gently," he exclaimed; "please be slower, and let me see how you operate. My dear sir, if I don't see how you do it, I shall never be able to draw up a proper account for the Academy."

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Unhappily he died shortly after the operation, but his gaiety and courage never forsook him. He made witticisms about his sufferings, and even wrote songs about them. A true specimen of the Gauls, and very pleasantly painted in these pages.

In the short notice of Lagrange there are two witticisms reported by M. Biot as having been uttered in his presence, which, for flavour of expression, and finesse of observation, deserve a place in every collection of mots. M. Biot one day remarked on the fact that an opinion, after being alternately adopted and rejected, admitted and modified by philosophers, often becomes at last a popular prejudice. "Eh quoi!" replied Lagrange, "cela vous étonne? Cependant il en arrive toujours ainsi;

les préjugés ne sont que la défroque des gens d'esprits qui habille la canaille." The second is so uncomplimentary to the fair sex, that there is some temerity in citing it; but wit is no respecter of sex or person: "La tête d'une femme est une éponge à préjugés."

With this we close our notice of three eminently agreeable and instructive volumes, convinced that we must have sharpened the reader's appetite for a more deliberate investigation of them.

WE shall neither of us, my dear E., very easily forget a certain September evening, somewhere about the 21st, when I in vain endeavoured to persuade you to accompany me to the Polyglot Congress of authors and artists then about to assemble at Brussels. Circumstances occurred upon that occasion to which I will not now further allude than to say, that they left a deep impression on my memory; but that, notwithstanding your reference to them as a sufficient ground for resisting my importunities, I suspect there was another reason which still more strong ly influenced your decision. Shall I tell you what it was? Well, then, my conviction is, that you had no faith in the results. You did not think and I suppose you do not even now think that anything practical can come of the debates and resolutions of this voluntary Congress, and you resolved, like nearly the whole literary body of England, to withhold your support till a definite scheme, sanctioned by competent authority, should be submitted to your consideration.

I differ wholly from you as to the wisdom or expediency of this determination; but I am not surprised it should have been adopted by a man of your temperament, habitually reserved, never sanguine, and generally inclined to look with distrust upon all movements directed to theo

retical objects. The fact is, that the English literary circles, including both authors and publishers, are weary of the struggle they have long been engaged in for the recognition of the very principles which the Congress has asserted. To suppose that they are indifferent to the establishment of international rights, would betray gross ignorance of the real state of the case. English authors and publishers are infinitely more interested in the question than the authors and publishers of any other country. The piracies committed upon them cover a much more extensive surface than the piracies committed upon the French for not only do the railroads of Europe swarm with the Leipsic reprints of English works, out of which the enterprising" editeur is amassing a rapid and enormous fortune, but almost every English book that appears - certainly every one that is worth the risk of bad paper and worse print-is caught up by the race of American Harpers (an obvious corruption of harpies), and circulated for a few cents throughout the length and breadth of the United States. It is clearly, therefore, not indifference that has prevented you and others from taking an active part in the proceedings at Brussels. The true solution of your absence is to be found in the failure of the efforts which have been