felt so full of ideas that he longed to have a
better opportunity of following them up, and more time for thinking them
out.

Now in the holidays he had been accustomed to return to his family home
at Pisa, and there to come a good deal into contact with the Grand-Ducal
House of Tuscany. Young Cosmo di Medici became in fact his pupil, and
arrived at man's estate with the highest opinion of the philosopher.
This young man had now come to the throne as Cosmo II., and to him
Galileo wrote saying how much he should like more time and leisure, how
full he was of discoveries if he only had the chance of a reasonable
income without the necessity of consuming so large a portion of his time
in elementary teaching, and practically asking to be removed to some
position in the Court. Nothing was done for a time, but negotiations
proceeded, and soon after the discovery of Jupiter's satellites Cosmo
wrote making a generous offer, which Galileo gladly and enthusiastically
accepted, and at once left Padua for Florence. All his subsequent
discoveries date from Florence.

Thus closed his brilliant and happy career as a professor at the
University of Padua. He had been treated well: his pay had become larger
than that of any Professor of Mathematics up to that time; and, as you
know, immediately after his invention of the telescope the Venetian
Senate, in a fit of enthusiasm, had doubled it and secured it to him for
life wherever he was. To throw up his chair and leave the place the very
next year scarcely seems a strictly honourable procedure. It was legal
enough no doubt, and it is easy for small men to criticize a great one,
but nevertheless I think we must admit that it is a step such as a man
with a keen sense of honour would hardly have taken.

One quite feels and sympathizes with the temptation. Not emolument, but
leisure; freedom from harassing engagements and constant teaching, and
liberty to prosecute his studies day and night without interference:
this was the golden prospect before him. He yielded, but one cannot help
wishing he had not.

As it turned out it was a false step--the first false step of his public
career. When made it was irretrievable, and it led to great misery.

At first it seemed brilliant enough. The great philosopher of the Tuscan
Court was courted and flattered by princes and nobles, he enjoyed a
world-wide reputation, lived as luxuriously as he cared for, had his
time all to himself, and lectured but