dogma asserted that the Moon and the other heavenly bodies were perfect, unblemished spheres. Previous astronomers who had viewed the Moon, either with the naked eye or through telescopes, had drawn a two-dimensional blotchy surface, but Galileo saw the patterns of light and dark differently. His training in chiaroscuro revealed to him an alien lunar landscape of mountain ranges and craters.
‘I have been led to the conclusion that … the surface of the Moon is not smooth, even and perfectly spherical – as the great crowd of philosophers have believed about this and other heavenly bodies – but, on the contrary, to be uneven and rough and crowded with depression and bulges. And it is like the face of the Earth itself, which is marked here and there with chains of mountains and depths of valleys.’
Galileo shared the watercolours with his long-standing friend from Florence, the artist Cigoli, who was inspired to represent this new and radical view of the Moon in the grandest of settings. Built in the year 430 by Pope Sixtus III, the Pauline Chapel in Rome documents the changing artistic styles and techniques used to represent the natural world across many centuries; a place filled with shifting examples of how the three-dimensional world can be represented on a two-dimensional surface. Covering the dome of the Pauline Chapel is Cigoli’s final masterpiece – a striking fresco depicting a familiar scene of the Virgin Mary bathed in a shaft of golden light surrounded by cherubs and angels. The fresco depicts Mary over what was, for the first time, a detailed, textured and cratered moon. The Vatican named it the Assumption of the Virgin, unaware perhaps of the philosophical challenge it represented. Here was art representing scientific knowledge – a type of knowledge radically different to historical or scriptural authority, based on observation rather than dogma and presented unashamedly in a grand setting for all in Rome to see. It is undoubtedly true that Galileo didn’t intend to challenge the very theological foundations of the Church of Rome by observing the Moon through a telescope. But scientific discoveries, however innocuous they may seem at first sight, have a way of undermining those who don’t much care for facts. Reality catches up with everyone eventually.
With his depictions of the Moon completed, Galileo turned his ever more powerful lenses to other celestial bodies. Between 7 and 13 January 1610, he became the first human to observe Jupiter’s four largest moons – Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto – now known as the Galilean Satellites. For Galileo, this was further evidence to support the work of Copernicus and the physical reality of the heliocentric model. If moons were orbiting Jupiter, Galileo reasoned, it was impossible to argue that the Earth was at the centre of the universe, because heavenly bodies existed that did not circle the Earth.
Galileo published these observations in the spring of 1610 in ‘The Starry Messenger’, and from his correspondence with Kepler his irritation with the discontent it caused amongst philosophers was clear. ‘My dear Kepler, I wish that we might laugh at the remarkable stupidity of the common herd. What do you have to say about the principal philosophers of this academy who are filled with the stubbornness of an asp and do not want to look at either the planets, the Moon or the telescope, even though I have freely and deliberately offered them the opportunity a thousand times? Truly, just as the asp stops its ears, so do these philosophers shut their eyes to the light of truth.’
To Galileo’s mind, absolute confirmation of Copernicus’s heliocentric model was provided by his studies of Venus. Beginning in September 1610, Galileo observed Venus over the course of months and, like the Moon, he observed that Venus had phases. Sometimes the planet was lit completely by the Sun, but at other times only a crescent appeared to be illuminated. The only plausible explanation for this observation was that Venus was orbiting the Sun. This was surely final compelling evidence of a solar system with the Sun at its heart and the planets orbiting around it.
It wasn’t that simple, of course. Galileo, in what was certainly an ill-judged move, decided to move beyond reporting his scientific observations and instead champion a particular theological and philosophical interpretation of the data – namely that the Church was wrong and that the Earth was most definitely not the centre of the universe. This he seems to have done because he wanted to be famous, and famous he became. Copernicus’s De revolutionibus was banned until ‘corrected’ (the full version was not removed from the banned list until 1758!) and Galileo ordered not to repeat his ‘foolish and absurd’ conclusions. Galileo didn’t keep quiet, and he achieved his historical notoriety by being put under house arrest in 1633, where he stayed for the remainder of his life.
Many historians characterise Galileo as a bit of an egotistical social climber who brought it all on himself, which is partly true and yet also desperately unfair. He was undoubtedly a great scientist and a supremely talented astronomical observer. In particular, he was the first to clearly state the principle of relativity which lies at the heart of Newton’s laws of motion; namely that there is no such thing as absolute rest or absolute motion. This is why we don’t feel the movement of the Earth around the Sun, and why Aristotle et al. were misled into reading far too much into their stationary feelings. In the hands of Albert Einstein, the principle of relativity can be generalised to freely falling objects in a gravitational field, and this ultimately leads to modern cosmology and the Big Bang theory. But we are jumping ahead again. The purpose of recounting the story of Galileo is not to attack the easy target of the Inquisition (which nobody expects). Rather, it is to highlight the fact that the smallest and most modest of scientific observations can lead to great philosophical and theological shifts that in turn can have a tremendous impact on society. Galileo, by looking through a telescope, doing some drawings and thinking about what he saw, helped to undermine centuries of autocratic idiocy and woolly thinking. In doing so, he got himself locked up, but also bridged the gap between Copernicus and Kepler, and paved the way for Isaac Newton and ultimately Albert Einstein to construct a complete description of the universe and our place within it.
THE HAPPIEST THOUGHT OF MY LIFE
Scientific progress, then, is often triggered by rather innocuous discoveries or simple realisations. There is a terrible cliché about scientists exhibiting a ‘childlike’ fascination with nature, but I can’t think of a better way of putting it. The sense in which the cliché rings true is that children are occasionally in the habit of focusing on a very small thing and continuing to ask the question ‘Why?’ until they get an answer that satisfies their curiosity. Adults don’t seem to do this as much. Good scientists do, however, and if I have a thesis in this chapter then it is as follows: by focusing on tiny but interesting things with honesty and clarity, great and profound discoveries are made, often by flawed human beings who don’t initially realise the consequences of their investigations. The absolutely archetypal example of such an approach can be found at the beginning of Einstein’s quest to replace Newton’s Theory of Gravity.
Einstein is most famous for his equation E=mc2, which is contained within the special theory of relativity he published in 1905. At the heart of the theory is a very simple concept that dates all the way back to Galileo. Put simply, there is no way that you can tell whether you are moving or not. This sounds a bit abstract, but we all know it’s true. If you are sitting in a room at home reading this book, then it feels the same as if you are sitting in an aircraft reading this book, as long as there is no turbulence and the aircraft is in level flight. If you aren’t allowed to look out of the window, then nothing you can do in the room or on the plane will tell you whether or not you are ‘sitting still’ or moving. You might claim that your room is self-evidently not moving, whereas a plane obviously is because otherwise it wouldn’t take you from London to New York. But that’s not right, because your room is moving in orbit around the Sun, and indeed it is spinning around the Earth’s axis, and the Sun itself is in orbit around the galaxy, which is moving relative to other galaxies in the universe. Einstein discovered his famous equation E=mc2 by taking this seemingly pedantic reasoning seriously and asserting that NO experiment you can ever do, even in principle, using clocks, radioactive atoms, electrical circuits, pendulums, or any physical object at all, will tell you whether or not you are moving. Anyone has the absolute right to claim that they are at rest, as long as there is no net force acting on them causing them to accelerate. You are claiming it now, no doubt, if you are reading this book sitting