he continued to attend the Inquisition. He was an active general and frequently absent from Rome, including on an extended visit to the Dominicans of France at royal request. This helped cement a political allegiance to France like Barberini’s. That made them members of the same faction in Rome. Once he became an Inquisitor, Galamini was among the most regular attenders at meetings including many occasions on which he was one of only two or three cardinals present. The other was often the secretary, Cardinal Millini who almost had to attend.86
This was a typical career for a Dominican Inquisitor. Galamini’s intensity and zeal for religion were anything but typical, even in the overheated piety of baroque Rome. The commentators agreed unanimously in praising his sincerity and goodness, at the same time as they stressed his lack of concern for ordinary human considerations. They used on him the same adjective once used to describe the dreaded warrior pope Julius II: terribile, literally terrifying. They also called him “hard” and “courageous.” And rigid.87 Such was Caccini’s new patron, stepping in for the ailing and absent Arrigoni, who nevertheless continued to cooperate with Galamini. The second took complete charge of Caccini’s move to Rome, orchestrating every step.88 Galamini ordered Caccini there by coincidence—or perhaps his plan all along—just when Caccini already intended to do that. Galamini lobbied hard for him, on one occasion talking to “more than fifteen cardinals” on his behalf.89 Even when it appeared that his competitor, backed by the cardinal nephew, had beaten him for the teaching post at the Minerva, Galamini did not give up.90 Caccini’s testimony against Galileo came right in the middle of Galamini’s scheme to promote him.
On 20 March, the day immediately after Galamini reported that Caccini had information about Galileo’s errors and Pope Paul ordered him examined, “he appeared spontaneously” before the Inquisition’s new commissary, Seghizzi, and one of its notaries, perhaps even the chief, Andrea Pettini.91 The interrogation took place in the Palazzo del Sant’Uffizio, immediately south of St. Peter’s where it still is. A new building was or would soon be under construction, but Caccini probably appeared in the old one “in the great hall of examinations.” He began by saying that Galamini had told him yesterday that he had no choice but to “depose judicially” against Galileo. Then he reported an edited version of his scriptural reading without its confrontational opening, skipping straight to the exposition of Joshua “first in the literal sense and then in the spiritual meaning for the salvation of souls,” sanctimoniously adding that he had spoken “with that modesty that is proper to the office [of reader in Scripture] that I held.” Before going on to say that he had cited other Bible verses as interpreted by all the fathers of the church, Caccini made one of the two most important points in his deposition. Somebody had coached him on exactly how to spin his testimony in legal terms. Often the commissary had to ask a witness about one of the key elements in what we would call the indictment, the “public reputation” or “public rumor” (publica fama) about an accused.92 Caccini spared Seghizzi the trouble by immediately saying that it was “most publicly known” (publichissima fama) in Florence that Galileo “held and taught” Copernicus’s opinion. Holding and teaching were two separate offenses. Held was bad, taught worse. How did Caccini know what was wrong with Galileo? Because he had read Nicholaus Serrarius, who had declared Copernicus’s views “contrary to the common opinion of almost all philosophers, all scholastic theologians and all the holy fathers.” Serrarius had added that “that doctrine could not be other than heretical.”93 Poor Serrarius (who had recently died) has been mangled in scholarship, identified as Spanish, Italian, about anything other than what he really was, a German Jesuit.94 The great church historian Cesare Baronio called him “the light of the church in Germany,” and his Bible commentaries were popular. But was he also attractive as a Jesuit when Caccini knew Bellarmino would see his evidence?
Caccini described his reading’s force as “a loving admonition” (caritativa ammonitione).95 As a friar used to seeing that disciplinary tool applied to his fellows, he had to know that the talk could have been no such thing, since that kind of warning depended on secrecy to give the sinner a chance to amend his ways before more serious (and more public) measures were taken against him (see Chapter 4 below). Caccini aimed to demonstrate how nobly he had acted in the face of Galileo’s “disciples,” who had asked the official preacher of the cathedral of Florence, Santa Maria del Fiore, to reply to Caccini, who in his turn had complained to Inquisitor Lelio Marzari. At this point, Caccini did not say whether anything came of either action. Later he admitted that the cathedral preacher, a Neapolitan Jesuit whose name he claimed not to know, had been talked out of attacking him by another Jesuit, Emanuele Ximenes (see previous chapter).96 Ximenes was probably a member of a wealthy Marrano banking family transferred to Florence in the fifteenth century, many of whose members opposed Galileo.97 By labeling his talk an “admonition,” Caccini also set the stage for the next step after it failed, as this one clearly had, a precept. Once again, somebody had to have coached Caccini in just how to put his testimony in legal terms. Now Caccini named his first witness against Galileo, Ferdinando Ximenes, shortly to be Arrighi’s official substitute as Dominican provincial and probably some kind of cousin of Emanuele, whom Caccini said would testify that the Galileisti held three propositions, two of them about God: that it was not a substance but an accident (almost equivalent to saying God did not really exist) and that it was “sensitive,” apparently meaning that it had senses like humans, only divine; and that miracles done by saints were false.98 After noting that Lorini had shown him a copy of the “Letter to Castelli,” Caccini ended his “spontaneous” testimony by noting once more Galileo’s “public reputation” and his two dangerous propositions. There was nothing spontaneous about his performance. It was a speech carefully crafted according to the rules of rhetoric, designed to persuade its audience (however small) to take action on the facts alleged.
Seghizzi began his questioning by asking how Caccini knew about Galileo’s propositions. Caccini, never one to use subtlety where a sledge hammer would work, trotted out Galileo’s reputation for the third time, and then named names. The bishop of Cortona, Filippo Bardi dei Verni, had warned him twice about Galileo, first when they were together in Cortona in 1611 and then again in Florence.99 The bishop would have been a dangerous witness since he and his brothers were among the cultural kingpins of Florence, yet he was never called to testify. Then Caccini adduced a friendly witness, a “sectarian” of Galileo, one Attavanti, the man he had surprised and silenced in Santa Maria Novella, although without knowing exactly who he was.100 This unsubtle move also implicitly labeled Galileo as the worst kind of heretic, a founder of a sect and therefore an inventor of heresies, a heresiarch. Caccini had also read Galileo’s Sunspot Letters, which Ferdinando Ximenes had lent him. In other words, Caccini knew what he was talking about. Next Seghizzi asked how Galileo was regarded in Florence. Caccini had to reply that many thought him a good Catholic, before hurrying on with a completely gratuitous accusation that could have ruined Galileo no matter what he thought about cosmology or astronomy or anything else. Caccini said that “others” (who turned out to be Lorini) had severe doubts because he was known as a friend of “that Fra Paolo, Servite, so notorious in Venice for his impieties,” with whom Galileo still exchanged letters.101 This of course is Paolo Sarpi, whom Paul V would gladly have assassinated.102 This specific accusation was not pursued, any more than the similar one of association with Cremonini, but in both cases the damage had been done. Caccini also vaguely noted that Ferdinando Ximenes thought ill of Galileo. “Oh, yes,” added Caccini again spontaneously, Galileo belongs to the Academy of the Lynxes and writes letters to Germany about sunspots, naturally if only by implication, to Lutheran heretics. Whatever the truth value of the rest of Caccini’s testimony, this point was false since the dedicatee of the Sunspot Letters, Mark Welser, was not only a city father of the thoroughly Catholic Augsburg but also an informer for the Roman Inquisition.103
Then, as often happened, the examination began to go in circles, the interrogator returning to the same central points from several different directions. How did Ximenes know what he had told Caccini? Attavanti told him. Where did Ximenes talk
