After narrating the treatment to which Galileo was subject on account of his admirable Dialogues, it will not be irrelevant to endeavour, by a few extracts, to convey some idea of the style in which they are written. It has been mentioned, that he is considered to surpass all other Italian writers (unless we except Machiavelli) in the purity and beauty of his language, and indeed his principal followers, who avowedly imitated his style, make a distinguished group among the classical authors of modern Italy. He professed to have formed himself from the study of Ariosto, whose poems he passionately admired, insomuch that he could repeat the greater part of them, as well as those of Berni and Petrarca, all which he was in the frequent habit of quoting in conversation. The fashion and almost universal practice of that day was to write on philosophical subjects in Latin; and although Galileo wrote very passably in that language, yet he generally preferred the use of Italian, for which he gave his reasons in the following characteristic manner:— "I wrote in Italian because I wished every one to be able to read what I wrote; and for the same cause I have written my last treatise in the same language: the reason which has induced me is, that I see young men brought together indiscriminately to study to become physicians, philosophers, &c., and whilst many apply to such professions who are most unfit for them, others who would be competent remain occupied either with domestic business, or with other employments alien to literature; who, although furnished, as Ruzzante might say, with a decent set of brains, yet, not being able to understand things written in gibberish, take it into their heads, that in these crabbed folios there must be some grand hocus pocus of logic and philosophy much too high up for them to think of jumping at. I want them to know, that as Nature has given eyes to them just as well as to philosophers for the purpose of seeing her works, she has also given them brains for examining and understanding them." The general structure of the dialogues has been already described; "One forms a very imperfect idea of Galileo, from considering the discoveries and inventions, numerous and splendid as they are, of which he was the undisputed author. It is by following his reasonings, and by pursuing the train of his thoughts, in his own elegant, though somewhat diffuse exposition of them, that we become acquainted with the fertility of his genius—with the sagacity, penetration, and comprehensiveness of his mind. The service which he rendered to real knowledge is to be estimated, not only from the truths which he discovered, but from the errors which he detected—not merely from the sound principles which he established, but from the pernicious idols which he overthrew. The dialogues on the system are written with such singular felicity, that one reads them at the present day, when the truths contained in them are known and admitted, with all the delight of novelty, and feels one's self carried back to the period when the telescope was first directed to the heavens, and when the earth's motion, with all its train of consequences, was proved for the first time." The first Dialogue is opened by an attack upon the arguments by which Aristotle pretended to determine À priori the necessary motions belonging to different parts of the world, and on his favourite principle that particular motions belong naturally to particular substances. Salviati (representing Galileo) then objects to the Aristotelian distinctions between the corruptible elements and incorruptible skies, instancing among other things the solar spots and newly appearing stars, as arguments that the other heavenly bodies may probably be subjected to changes similar to those which are continually occurring on the earth, and that it is the great distance alone which prevents their being observed. After a long discussion on this point, Sagredo exclaims, "I see into the heart of Simplicio, and perceive that he is much moved by the force of these too conclusive arguments; but methinks I hear him say—'Oh, to whom must we betake ourselves to settle our disputes if Aristotle be removed from the chair? What Salviati proceeds to point out the many points of similarity between the earth and moon, and among others which we have already mentioned, the following remark deserves especial notice:— "Just as from the mutual and universal tendency of the parts of the earth to form a whole, it follows that they all meet together with equal inclination, and that they may unite as closely as possible, assume the spherical form; why ought we not to believe that the moon, the sun, and other mundane bodies are also of a round figure, from no other reason than from a common instinct and natural concourse of all their component parts; of which if by accident any one should be violently separated from its whole, is it not reasonable to believe that spontaneously, and of its natural instinct, it would return? It may be added that if any centre of the universe may be assigned, to which the whole terrene globe if thence removed would seek to return, we shall find most probable that the sun is placed in it, as by the sequel you shall understand." Many who are but superficially acquainted with the History of Astronomy, are apt to suppose that Newton's great merit was in his being the first to suppose an attractive force existing in and between the different bodies composing the solar system. This idea is very erroneous; Newton's discovery consisted in conceiving and proving the identity of the force with which a stone falls, and that by which the moon falls, towards the earth (on an assumption that this force becomes weaker in a certain proportion as the distance increases at which it operates), and in generalizing this idea, in applying it to all the visible creation, and tracing the principle of universal gravitation with the assistance of a most refined and beautiful geometry into many of its most remote consequences. But the general notion of an attractive force between the sun, moon, and planets, was very commonly entertained before Newton was born, and may be traced back to Kepler, who was probably the first modern philosopher who suggested it. The following extraordinary passages from his "Astronomy" will shew the nature of his conceptions on this subject:— "The true doctrine of gravity is founded on these axioms: every corporeal substance, so far forth as it is corporeal, has a natural fitness for resting in every place where it may be situated by itself beyond the sphere of influence of its cognate body. Gravity is a mutual affection between cognate bodies towards union or conjunction (similar in kind to the magnetic virtue), so that the earth attracts a stone much rather than the stone seeks the earth. Heavy bodies (if in the first place we put the earth in the centre of the world) are not carried to the centre of the world in its quality of centre of the world, but as to the centre of a cognate round body, namely the earth. So that wheresoever the earth may be placed or whithersoever it may be carried by its animal faculty, heavy bodies will always be carried towards it. If the earth were not round heavy bodies would not tend from every side in a straight line towards the centre of the earth, but to different points from different sides. If two stones were placed in any part of the world near each other and beyond the sphere of influence of a third cognate body, these stones, like two magnetic needles, would come together in the intermediate point, each approaching the other by a space proportional He also conjectured that the irregularities in the moon's motion were caused by the joint action of the sun and earth, and recognized the mutual action of the sun and planets, when he declared the mass and density of the sun to be so great that the united attraction of the other planets cannot remove it from its place. Among these bold and brilliant ideas, his temperament led him to introduce others which show how unsafe it was to follow his guidance, and which account for, if they do not altogether justify, the sarcastic remark of Ross, that "Kepler's opinion that the planets are moved round by the sunne, and that this is done by sending forth a magnetic virtue, and that the sun-beames are like the teethe of a wheele taking hold of the planets, are senslesse crotchets fitter for a wheeler or a miller than a philosopher." It is very difficult to offer any satisfactory comment upon this passage; it may be sufficient to observe that this paradoxical result was afterwards deduced The second Dialogue is appropriated chiefly to the discussion of the diurnal motion of the earth; and the principal arguments urged by Aristotle, Ptolemy, and others, are successively brought forward and confuted. The opposers of the earth's diurnal motion maintained, that if it were turning round, a stone dropped from the top of a tower would not fall at its foot; but, by the rotation of the earth to the eastward carrying away the tower with it, would be left at a great distance to the westward; it was common to compare this effect to a stone dropped from the mast-head of a ship, and without any regard to truth it was boldly asserted that this would fall considerably nearer the stern than the foot of the mast, if the ship were in rapid motion. The same argument was presented in a variety of forms,—such as that a cannon-ball shot perpendicularly upwards would not fall at the same spot; that if fired to the eastward it would fly farther than to the westward; that a mark to the east or west would never be hit, because of the rising or sinking of the horizon during the flight of the ball; that ladies' ringlets would all stand out to the westward, The mechanical doctrines introduced into this second dialogue will be noticed on another occasion; we shall pass on to other extracts, illustrative of the general character of Galileo's reasoning:—"Salviati. I did not say that the earth has no principle, either internal or external, of its motion of rotation, but I do say that I know not which of the two it has, and that my ignorance has no power to take its motion away; but if this author knows by what principle other mundane bodies, of the motion of which we are certain, are turned round, I say that what moves the Earth is something like that by which Mars and Jupiter, and, as he believes, the starry sphere, are moved round; and if he will satisfy me as to the cause of their motion, I bind myself to be able to tell him what moves the earth. Nay more; I undertake to do the same if he can teach me what it is which moves the parts of the earth downwards.—Simpl. The cause of this effect is notorious, and every one knows that it is Gravity.—Salv. You are out, Master Simplicio; you should say that every one knows that it is called Gravity; but I do not ask you the name but the nature of the thing, of which nature you do not know one tittle more than you know of the nature of the moving cause of the rotation of the stars, except it be the name which has been given to the one, and made familiar and domestic, by the frequent experience we have of it many thousand times in a day; but of the principle or virtue by which a stone falls to the ground, we really know no more than we know of the principle which carries it upwards when thrown into the air, or which carries the moon round its orbit, except, as I have said, the name of gravity which we have peculiarly and exclusively assigned to it; whereas we speak of the other with a more generic term, and talk of the virtue impressed, and call it either an assisting or an informing intelligence, and are content to say that Nature is the cause of an infinite number of other motions." Simplicio is made to quote a passage from Scheiner's book of Conclusions against Copernicus, to the following effect:—"'If the whole earth and water were annihilated, no hail or rain would fall from the clouds, but would only be naturally carried round in a circle, nor would any fire or fiery thing ascend, since, according to the not improbable opinion of these others, there is no fire in the upper regions.'—Salv. The foresight of this philosopher is most admirable and praiseworthy, for he is not content with providing for things that might happen during the common course of nature, but persists in shewing his care for the consequences of what he very well knows will never come to pass. Nevertheless, for the sake of hearing some of his notable conceits, I will grant that if the earth and water were annihilated there would be no more hail or rain, nor would fiery matter ascend any more, but would continue a motion of revolution. What is to follow? What conclusion is the philosopher going to draw?—Simpl. This objection is in the very next words—'Which nevertheless (says he) is contrary to experience and reason.'—Salv. Now I must yield: since he has so great an advantage over me as experience, with which I am quite unprovided. For hitherto I have never happened to see the terrestrial earth and water annihilated, so as to be able to observe what the hail and fire did in the confusion. But does he tell us for our information at least what they did?—Simp. No, he does not say any thing more.—Salv. Great part of the third Dialogue is taken up with discussions on the parallax of the new stars of 1572 and 1604, in which Delambre notices that Galileo does not employ logarithms in his calculations, although their use had been known since Napier discovered them in 1616: the dialogue then turns to the annual motion "first taken from the Sun and conferred upon the Earth by Aristarchus Samius, and afterwards by Copernicus." Salviati speaks of his contemporary philosophers with great contempt—"If you had ever been worn out as I have been many and many a time with hearing what sort of stuff is sufficient to make the obstinate vulgar unpersuadable, I do not say to agree with, but even to listen to these novelties, I believe your wonder at finding so few followers of these opinions would greatly fall off. But little regard in my judgment is to be had of those understandings who are convinced and immoveably persuaded of the fixedness of the earth, by seeing that they are not able to breakfast this morning at Constantinople, and sup in the evening in Japan, and who feel satisfied that the earth, so heavy as it is, cannot climb up above the sun, and then come tumbling in a breakneck fashion down again!" The following is one of the frequently recurring passages in which Galileo, whilst arguing in favour of the enormous distances at which the theory of Copernicus necessarily placed the fixed stars, inveighs against the arrogance with which men pretend to judge of matters removed above their comprehension. "Simpl. All this is very well, and it is not to be denied that the heavens may surpass in bigness the capacity of our imaginations, as also that God might have created it yet a thousand times larger than it really is, but we ought not to admit anything to be created in vain, and useless in the universe. Now whilst we see this beautiful arrangement of the planets, disposed round the earth at distances proportioned to the effects they are to produce on us for our benefit, to what purpose should a vast vacancy be afterwards interposed between the orbit of Saturn and the starry spheres, containing not a single star, and altogether useless and unprofitable? to what end? for whose use and advantage?—Salv. Methinks we arrogate too much to ourselves, Simplicio, when we will have it that the care of us alone is the adequate and sufficient work and bound, beyond which the divine wisdom and power does and disposes of nothing. I feel confident that nothing is omitted by the Divine Providence of what concerns the government of human affairs; but that there may not be other things in the universe dependant upon His supreme wisdom, I cannot for myself, by what my reason holds out to me, bring myself to believe. So that when I am told of the uselessness of an immense space interposed between the orbits of the planets and the fixed stars, empty and valueless, I reply that there is temerity in attempting by feeble reason to judge the works of God, and in calling vain and superfluous every part of the universe which is of no use to us.—Sagr. Say rather, and I believe you would say better, that we have no means of knowing what is of use to us; and I hold it to be one of the greatest pieces of arrogance and folly that can be in this world to say, because I know not of what use Jupiter or Saturn are to me, that therefore these planets are superfluous; nay more, that there are no such things in nature. To understand what effect is worked upon us by this or that heavenly body (since you will have it that all their use must have a reference to us), it would be necessary to remove it for a After a discussion on Gilbert's Theory of Terrestrial Magnetism, introduced by the parallelism of the earth's axis, and of which Galileo praises very highly both the method and results, the dialogue proceeds as follows:—"Simpl. It appears to me that Sig. Salviati, with a fine circumlocution, has so clearly explained the cause of these effects, that any common understanding, even though unacquainted with science, may comprehend it: but we, confining ourselves to the terms of art, reduce the cause of these and other similar natural phenomena to sympathy, which is a certain agreement and mutual appetency arising between things which have the same qualities, just as, on the other hand, that disagreement and aversion, with which other things naturally repel and abhor each other, we style antipathy.—Sagr. And thus with these two words they are able to give a reason for the great number of effects and accidents which we see, not without admiration, to be produced in Nature. But it strikes me that this mode of philosophising has a great sympathy with the style in which one of my friends used to paint: on one part of the canvas he would write with chalk—there I will have a fountain, with Diana and her nymphs; here some harriers; in this corner I will have a huntsman, with a stag's head; the rest may be a landscape of wood and mountain; and what remains to be done may be put in by the colourman: and thus he flattered himself that he had painted the story of ActÆon, having contributed nothing to it beyond the names." The fourth Dialogue is devoted entirely to an examination of the tides, and is a development and extension of the treatise already mentioned to have been sent to the Archduke Leopold, in 1618. There is an unfounded legend, that Aristotle drowned himself in despair of being able to invent a plausible explanation of the extraordinary tides in the Euripus. His curiosity on the subject does not appear to have been so acute (judging from his writings) as this story would imply. In one of his books he merely mentions a rumour, that there are great elevations or swellings of the seas, which recur periodically, according to the course of the moon. Lalande, in the fourth volume of his Astronomy, has given an interesting account of the opinion of the connection of the tides with the moon's motion. Pytheas of Marseilles, a contemporary of Aristotle, was the first who has been recorded as observing, that the full tides occur at full moon, and the ebbs at new moon. The College of Jesuits at Coimbra appears to deserve the credit of first clearly pointing out the true relation between the tides and the moon, which was also maintained a few years later by Antonio de Dominis and Kepler. In the Society's commentary on Aristotle's book on Meteors, after refuting the notion that the tides are caused by the light of the sun and moon, they say, "It appears more probable to us, without any rarefaction, of which there appears no need or indication, that the moon raises the waters by some inherent power of impulsion, in the same manner as a magnet moves iron; and according to its different aspects and approaches to the sea, and the obtuse or acute angles of its bearing, at one time to attract and raise the waters along the shore, and then again to leave them to sink down by their own weight, and to gather into a lower level." Galileo's own theory is introduced by the following illustration, which indeed "We may explain and render sensible these effects by the example of one of those barks which come continually from Lizza Fusina, with fresh water for the use of the city of Venice. Let us suppose one of these barks to come thence with moderate velocity along the canal, carrying gently the water with which it is filled, and then, either by touching the bottom, or from some other hindrance which is opposed to it, let it be notably retarded; the water will not on that account lose like the bark the impetus it has already acquired, but will forthwith run on towards the prow where it will sensibly rise, and be depressed at the stern. If on the contrary the said vessel in the middle of its steady course shall receive a new and sensible increase of velocity, the contained water before giving into it will persevere for some time in its slowness, and will be left behind that is to say towards the stern where consequently it will rise, and sink at the head.—Now, my masters, that which the vessel does in respect of the water contained in it, and that which the water does in respect of the vessel containing it, is the same to a hair as what the Mediterranean vase does in respect of the water which it contains, and that the waters do in respect of the Mediterranean vase which contains them. We have now only to demonstrate how, and in what manner it is true that the Mediterranean, and all other gulfs, and in short all the parts of the earth move with a motion sensibly not uniform, although no motion results thence to the whole globe which is not perfectly uniform and regular." This unequable motion is derived from a combination of the earth's motion on her axis, and in her orbit, the consequence of which is that a point turned from the sun is carried in the same direction by the annual and diurnal velocities, whereas a point on the opposite side of the globe is carried in opposite directions by the annual and diurnal motions, so that in every twenty-four hours the absolute motion through space of every point in the earth completes a cycle of varying swiftness. Those readers who are unacquainted with the mathematical theory of motion must be satisfied with the assurance that this specious representation is fallacious, and that the oscillation of the water does not in the least result from the causes here assigned to it: the reasoning necessary to prove this is not elementary enough to be introduced here with propriety. Besides the principal daily oscillation of the water, there is a monthly inequality in the rise and fall, of which the extremes are called the spring and neap tides: the manner in which Galileo attempted to bring his theory to bear upon these phenomena is exceedingly curious. "It is a natural and necessary truth, that if a body be made to revolve, the time of revolution will be greater in a greater circle than in a less: this is universally allowed, and fully confirmed by experiments, such for instance as these:—In wheel clocks, especially in large ones, to regulate the going, the workmen fit up a bar capable of revolving horizontally, and fasten two leaden weights to the ends of it; and if the clock goes too slow, by merely approaching these weights somewhat towards the centre of the bar, they make its vibrations more frequent, at which time they are moving in smaller circles than before. Wallis adopted and improved this theory in a paper which he inserted in the Philosophical Transactions for 1666, in which he declares, that the circular motion round the sun should be considered as taking place at a point which is the centre of gravity of the earth and moon. "To the first objection, that it appears not how two bodies that have no tie can have one common centre of gravity, I shall only answer, that it is harder to show how they have it, than that they have it." FOOTNOTES: |