The chief inquisitor was one of the cardinals, Vincenzo Maculano di Firenzuola, a thin Dominican about the same height as Galileo. His ascetic life had left the skin of his face so wrinkled, and his eyes so sunken, that he appeared almost older than the aged astronomer, though he was only forty-five. His nose was large, his mouth small.

As the trial began his gaze was sharp, although his mouth had a relaxed and even a friendly set to it. “Time for a deposition,” he said gently.

Summoned, there appeared personally in Rome at the palace of the Holy Office, in the usual quarters of the Reverend Father Commissary, in the presence of the Reverend Father Fra Vincenzo Maculano of Firenzuola, Commissary General, and of his assistant Reverend Father Carlo Sinceri, Prosecutor of the Holy Office, etc.

Galileo, son of the late Vincenzio Galilei, Florentine, seventy years old, who, having taken a formal oath to tell the truth, was asked by the Fathers the following:

He was asked: By what means and how long ago did he come to Rome.

Answer: I arrived in Rome the first Sunday of Lent, and I came in a litter.

Cardinal Maculano’s questions were asked, and recorded by the nun, in Latin, while Galileo’s answers were made and recorded in Italian. At the first sound of Galileo’s Tuscan vernacular, Maculano looked up from the desk, surprised; but after a moment’s hesitation he did not stop the answer, or request that Galileo make his replies in Latin. He only spoke his next question in Latin again:

“Did you come of your own accord, or were you called, or were you ordered by someone to come to Rome, and if so, by whom?”

Galileo answered as seriously as if this were the crux of the matter. “In Florence the Father Inquisitor ordered me to come to Rome to present myself to the Holy Office, this being an injunction by the officials of the Holy Office.”

“Do you know, or can you guess, the reason why you were ordered to come to Rome?”

Galileo said, “I imagine that the reason why I have been ordered to present myself to the Holy Office in Rome is to account for my recently printed book. I imagine this because of the injunction to the printer and to myself, a few days before I was ordered to come to Rome, not to issue any more of these books, and similarly because the printer was ordered by the Father Inquisitor to send the original manuscript of my book to the Holy Office in Rome.”

Maculano nodded at this. “Please explain the character of the book on account of which you think you were ordered to come to Rome.”

“It is a book written in dialogue form, and it treats of the constitution of the world—that is, of the two chief systems. Also the arrangements of the heavens and the elements.”

“If you were shown the said book, would you be prepared to identify it as yours?”

“I hope so,” Galileo said. “I hope that if the book is shown to me, I would recognize it.”

Maculano glanced up sharply at him. Was this sarcasm? A feeble attempt at a joke? The accused man’s flat tone and innocent expression did not allow an interpretation. He was intent, on point; this was clearly serious business to him, as well it should be. His gaze was transfixed on the face of Maculano. If there was a part inside him struggling against a sharp rejoinder or sarcastic put-down, it was still bottled in him, and escaping perhaps only in quick uncontrollable squirts, odd statements that were the only shards left of a lifelong habit of skewering opponents in debate.

This opponent was too dangerous to be touched. Maculano let a few more moments go by. Was he appreciating Galileo’s irony, or warning him that this was no time to fool around? It was just as impossible for Galileo to tell what Maculano was thinking, as it had been for Maculano to determine what Galileo had meant. Impassively they stared at each other. Suddenly those of us watching had it brought home to us what this was going to be like; it was rhetoric as chess, but with an executioner standing behind the man playing the black pieces. He was one of the smartest scientists ever to live, but chess is not science; and this was not exactly chess.

And who was the man playing white? Who was this tall emaciated Maculano from Firenzuola? A Dominican from Pavia, a functionary of the Holy Office, a mediocrity unnoticed by anyone until this moment. Once again a new player had stepped out of the shadows, confounding any sense that the cast of characters was fixed in number, or fully known to anybody involved. Or complete.

Having been shown one of the books printed in Florence in 1632, whose title is Dialogue of Galileo Galilei Lincean etc., which examines the two systems of the world, and having looked at it and inspected it carefully, he said:

“I know this book very well. It is one of those printed in Florence; and I acknowledge it as mine and written by me.”

This was said with no inflection at all, but the inspection of the book had been rather drawn out, as if to match Maculano’s delay, perhaps thus to toss Maculano’s silent warning back into his face.

Maculano, seeing this, again waited longer than seemed necessary. Finally he said, with a little press of deliberation or emphasis, as if warning Galileo yet again: “Do you likewise acknowledge each and every thing contained in the said book as yours?”

Now Galileo replied quickly, almost impatiently. “I know this book shown to me, for it is one of those printed at Florence. I acknowledge all it contains as having been written by me.”

“When and where did you compose this book, and how long did it take you?”

“In regard to the place,” Galileo said, “I composed it in Florence, beginning ten or twelve years ago. It must have taken me seven or eight years, but not continuously.”

“Were you in Rome any other times, especially in the year 1616, and for what occasion?”

“I was in Rome in the year 1616,” Galileo confirmed, as if answering a real question; it had been a very famous visit. He listed all his subsequent trips to Rome as well, explaining that the most recent one was to get permission in person to publish the Dialogo. He went on to explain that the visit in 1616 was made of his own accord, because “having heard objections to Nicolaus Copernicus’s opinion on the earth’s motion, in order to be sure of holding only holy and Catholic opinions, I came to hear what was proper to hold in regard to this topic.”

“Did you come of your own accord, or were you summoned, and what was the reason you were summoned?”

“In 1616 I came of my own accord, without being summoned, for the reason I mentioned,” Galileo said firmly, as if correcting a student’s wrong answer in a class. Maculano nodded, and Galileo went on. “I discussed this matter with some cardinals who oversaw the Holy Office at that time, especially with Cardinals Bellarmino, Aracoeli, San Eusebio, Bonsi, and d’Ascoli.”

“And what specifically did you discuss with the above-mentioned cardinals?”

Galileo took a deep breath. “They wanted to be informed about Copernicus’s doctrine, his book being very difficult to understand for those who are not professional mathematicians and astronomers. In particular they wanted to understand the arrangement of the heavenly spheres according to Copernicus’s hypothesis—how he places the sun at the center of the planets’ orbits, how around the sun he places next the orbit of Mercury, around the latter that of Venus, then the moon around the earth, and outside this Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. And in regard to motion, he makes the sun stationary at the center and the earth turn on itself and around the sun, that is, on itself with the diurnal motion, and around the sun with the annual motion.”

Maculano watched Galileo very closely, but the old man said all this as calmly as could be. “What then was decided about this matter?”

“It was decided by the Holy Congregation that this opinion, taken absolutely, is repugnant to Holy Scripture and is to be admitted only ex suppositione,” Galileo using the Latin phrase here, as the term had a precise theological and legal meaning. Then he added, “In the way that Copernicus himself takes it.”