The sharp-eyed lynx, outfoxed by nature: Galileo and friends taught us that there is more to observing than meets the eye

Natural History, May, 1998 by Stephen Jay Gould

On August 12, 1623, Stelluti wrote from Rome to Galileo, then in Florence, expressing both his practical and intellectual joy in the outcome of local elections. Three members of the Lynxes would be serving in the new papal government, along with "many other friends." Stelluti then enthused about the new boss:

The creation of the new pope has filled us

all with rejoicing, for he is a man of such

valor and goodness, as you yourself

know so well. And he is a particular

supporter of learned men, so we shall

have a supreme patron. . . . We pray to the

Lord God to preserve the life of this pope

for a long time.

The Lynxes, suffused with hope that freedom of scientific inquiry would now be established, met for an extended convention and planning session at Cesi's estate in 1624. Galileo had just built the first usable microscope for scientific investigation after recognizing that lenses, properly arranged, could magnify truly tiny nearby objects, as well as enormous cosmic bodies rendered tiny in appearance by their great distance from human observers. Anticipating the forthcoming gathering of the Lynxes, Galileo sent one of his first microscopes to Cesi, along with a note describing his second great optical invention:

I have examined a great many tiny

animals with infinite admiration.

Mosquitoes are the most horrible among them. . . . I have

seen, with great contentment, how flies

and other tiny animals can walk across

mirrors, and even upside down. But you,

my lord, tall have a great opportunity to

view thousands and thousands of details. . . In

short, you will be able to enjoy infinite

contemplation of nature's grandness,

and how subtly, and with what

incredible diligence, she works.

Galileo's microscope entranced the Lynxes and became the hit of their meeting. Stelluti took a special interest and used the new device to observe and draw the anatomy of bees. In 1625, Stelluti published his results, including a large engraving of three bees drawn under Galileo's instrument. Historian of science Charles Singer cites these bees as "the earliest figures still extant drawn with the aid of the microscope," and if the name of the sadly underrated Francesco Stelluti, the tardigrade among the Lynxes, has survived at all in conventional annals of the history of science, he perseveres only as an entry in the "list of firsts" for his microscopical drawings.

The Lynxes, always savvy as well as smart, did not choose to draw bees for abstract amusement. Not coincidentally, the family crest of Maffeo Barberini, the new pope and the Lynxes' anticipated patron, featured three bees. Stelluti dedicated his work to Urban VIII, writing in a banner placed above the three bees: "To Urban VIII Pontifex Optimus Maximus . . . from the Academy of the Lynxes, and in perpetual devotion, we offer you this symbol."

The emboldened Galileo now decided to come out of intellectual hiding and to risk a discussion of the Copernican system. In 1632, he published his epochal masterpiece in the history of science and, from the resultant tragedy, in the history of society as well: Dialogo . . . sopra i due massimi sistemi del mondo tolemaico e copernicano (A dialogue . . . on the two great systems of the world, Ptolemaic and Copernican). Galileo hoped that he could avoid any ecclesiastical trouble by framing the work as a dialogue--an argument between a supporter of the earth-centered Ptolemaic system and a partisan of Copernicus's sun-centered view.