She reached out in her letters, which were carried to Galileo in laundry baskets, in the pockets of messengers, and sometimes on horseback through the often plague-ridden Italian countryside. That Galileo wrote back is clear from her words, but his replies do not survive, perhaps burned as the perfidious screed of a heretic after his daughter's death in 1634. Dava Sobel has translated Maria Celeste's missives from the Italian. Published in English for the first time, they provide a fascinating insight into both Maria Celeste's relationship with her father and the life of an educated, if isolated, 17th-century nun. Mixed in with her expressions of love for Galileo and prayers for his welfare are recipes for candied quince, prescriptions against the plague, an appeal to repair the convent's clock, numerous pleas for money, and a request for a telescope a hint that she, too, was scanning the skies.
Domestic concerns feature prominently.
But this is not just a collection of letters. It is also the story of Galileo's life his experiments in mechanics and motion, his study of the stars, and his trial by the Holy Office of the Inquisition. Sobel addresses this last event with a keen understanding of the science behind the quarrel. Alas, it was not until 1992 three and a half centuries after Galileo's death that Pope John Paul II publicly endorsed his philosophy. No one is accepted as a prophet in his own country.