While Galileo was occupied with these noble pursuits at Pisa, to which he had been recalled in 1611, his generous patron, Cosmo II. Grand-duke of Tuscany, invited him to Florence, that he might pursue with uninterrupted leisure his astronomical observations, and carry on his correspondence with the German astronomers. His fame had now resounded through all Europe;—the strongholds of prejudice and ignorance were unbarred;—and the most obstinate adherents of ancient systems acknowledged the meridian power of the day-star of science. Galileo was ambitious of propagating the great truths which he contributed so powerfully to establish. He never doubted that they would received with gratitude by all,—by the philosopher as the consummation of the greatest efforts of human genius,—and by the Christian as the most transcendent displays of Almighty power. But he had mistaken the disposition of his species, and the character of the age. That same system of the heavens which had been discovered by the humble ecclesiastic of Frauenberg, which had been patronised by the kindness of a bishop, and published at the expense of a cardinal, and which the pope himself had sanctioned by the warmest reception, was, after the lapse of a hundred years, doomed to the most violent opposition, as subversive of the doctrines of the Christian faith. On no former occasion has the human mind exhibited such a fatal relapse into intolerance. The age itself had improved in liberality;—the persecuted doctrines themselves had become more deserving of reception;—the light of the Reformed faith had driven the Catholics from some of their most obnoxious positions;—and yet, under all these circumstances, the church of Rome unfurled her banner of persecution against the pride of Italy, against the ornament of his species, and against truths immutable and eternal.