A few years ago, I bought a hat at the Segatori hat shop across the plaza from the Trevi Fountain in Rome.  A few minutes later, I was admiring the way I looked in my new lid as I enjoyed a beer on a sidewalk café in the Campo de’ Fiori.  Before I knew it, I found myself thinking about manly men and underdogs.  Stay with me a second and you’ll see the connection.  See, I like hats and it’s not just because I am, you might say, thinly thatched.  You can’t tell from the picture that accompanies this column, but I’m slick as Fast Eddie’s cue ball.  But, like I said, that’s not why I like hats.  Some day, I’ll write a whole column on the incomparable virtues of a good hat--and I don’t mean a ball cap.  Let me just say, for now, that some of the best money I ever spent was to pay Dr. Koester’s bill after he told me I must wear a hat every time I’m out in the sun.  So now, in addition to the utility and rakishness of it, I have to wear a hat for my health.  Thanks Doc.

But back to the Campo de’ Fiori.  In the middle of the Plaza, there’s an impressive statue of a stern looking man wearing a cowl and holding a book.  He’s staring accusingly in the direction of the Vatican. He looks like a man whose been holding a grudge for a long time.  This is a monument to Giordano Bruno.  Turns out his statue was erected on the very spot where Bruno was burned at the stake for heresy in 1600.  I guess he held a number of views that the authorities of his day found offensive.  For example, he held to his last breath that the sun did not revolve around the earth.  He had questions about such things as the trinity and the virgin birth.  He believed that the stars were similar to our sun and it was, therefore possible that somewhere out there other worlds might have life similar to the earth.  He believed that God was infinite and would, therefore, express himself in an infinite universe.

At trial, Bruno recanted as much as he could in an effort to save his life.  He couldn’t go as far as Galileo did--which explains why Galileo was able to escape the stake.  They say when the death sentence was passed, Bruno remarked, “Perhaps you, my judges, pronounce this sentence against me with greater fear than I receive it.”  I’d like to think that’s exactly what he said.

Now there are two schools of thought concerning how a manly man behaves when he witnesses the plight of an underdog at the mercy of a bully.  One view says that a manly man minds his own business and doesn’t go mixing up in somebody else’s fight.  The other says a manly man will never stand by and allow a bully to terrorize the vulnerable.  There are pros and cons to either approach.  You decide for yourself which is best.

I’ll just tell you that as I stood on the ground where a brave man was tortured and died for expressing what he thought was the truth, I was flooded all over with the strong desire to bust somebody’s head.  Of course there was nobody in reach whose head I could justifiably bust, and it wouldn’t do Bruno any good if there was.  I could only stand there and take my hat off as a show of respect and sorrow--another thing hats are good for.

In 2000, a Cardinal called Bruno’s execution a “sad episode.”  I guess that’s an apology of sorts.  That’s more than Baruch Spinoza got.  February 21 was the 331^st anniversary of his death.  For the last decades of his life, he was denied the fellowship of his synagogue because his philosophical studies led him to question some of the positions taken in the Talmud and other religious writings.  The document excluding him from fellowship was never rescinded.  February 14 was the 19^th anniversary of the death sentence Ayatollah Khomeini passed on Salman Rushdie for writing a novel.  So far as I know, that death sentence is still in effect.  Maybe some day religious bullies will be despised as the cowards they are.  February 17 was the 409^th anniversary of Bruno’s execution and the 9^th anniversary of the church’s “apology.”  Hats off! 

I’m Hink and I’ll see ya.

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