 The year was 1548, and in a small municipality located 16 miles east of Naples, our philosopher was born. His given name upon his baptism was Filippo Bruno, the name Giordano would come only after entering the monastery of the Dominicans at the age of 17. It was fortunate that he would find himself here, where there were countless books which could appease his wandering soul. But baconianly, Bruno lit his candle at every torch. His mind passed from book to book, searching and wandering. In the development of his philosophical ideals, he took from so many that I fear of how to list them all here. The list may read more like a telephone directory, but I will list them for those curious. He completed his ecclesiastic studies in 1572, but all was not well. The theories which he propounded so enthusiastically drew concern from his superiors at the monastery. Add to this his unrelenting desire for sexual romance, to which he said not all the snows of the Caucasus could quench, and what we have is a recipe for impropriety. Fast forward eleven years, and Bruno, perhaps seeking freedom of thought and expression, would flee the monastery, shedding his priestly garb in the process. He would take shelter for a time in Rome, teaching and enjoying the pleasures that come with civilian life. From Rome he traveled to Savona, and then on to Geneva. Each stop on his journey required Bruno, somewhat chameleon-like, to assume whichever façade would make for a peaceful life. It seems there were few places in 16th century Italy which was genial to a philosopher who dared to question the established dogmas. At times he would re-assume the cloak of a priest, but outside of this peacekeeping measure he earned his living by correcting manuscripts and proofs. He came under fire when, against recommendation, he pointed out twenty errors in a lecture given by Calvinist theologian. He was promptly summoned to trial, and while under duress, retracted and was set free. The man who took the liberty of publishing the review was not so fortunate. During this revealing encounter, Bruno, fearing further persecution, eventually made his way to Toulouse, where he spent his time lecturing on Aristotle's Deanima on the soul. Eighteen months would pass without incident, but the allure of Paris was too much to let pass. By the time Bruno had reached Paris, his name had become relatively well known as not only a successful philosopher, but also as a master of mnemonics and a cult lore. So well known, in fact, that the king of France, Henry III, would request his services. Apparently he was pleased with the lessons, since he was quick to appoint him to a professorship at the College of France. Two years would pass by with relative peace, only ending after Bruno penned a fiery comedy. Titled the Torchbearer, Bruno went on to lambast and satirize members of the ruling class, namely the monks, professors and aristocrats. At the end of its production he begrudgingly signed a play, Bruno de Noland, graduate of the Academy, called The New Sense. We can confidently speculate that it was this which caused his employer, to rather than retain his services, to recommend him to the French ambassador in London. He was more accepting than most of Bruno's numerous ramblings, and gave him refuge for approximately two years. While here he had the privilege of conversing with some of Elizabethan England's most developed minds, including, but not limited to, Sir Philip Sidney and Edmund Spencer. He even managed to meet the queen herself a time or two, writing of her eulogy, which would later be used against him by the Inquisition. In 1583 he was given permission to lecture at Oxford, wherein he promptly spoke on the five-fold sphere in the immortality of the soul. This was predictably not received well, and Bruno, a scathing critic of those who rejected his views, called Oxford a constellation of pedantic and most obstinate ignorance of presumption, mixed with rustic instability that would exhaust the patient of Job. Toward the latter half of 1585 he returned to Paris, teaching at the Sorbonne and giving local Aristotelian something to loathe. He was not in Paris for long, as the war against Henry III pushed him away to Germany. Applied but rejected from the University of Marburg, Bruno moved on to Wittenberg, where for two more years he lectured at Luther's University. The theology which surrounded him was probably what drove him to, once again, seek higher ground, and so he found the University of Homestead in Brunswick. At first this seemed like an honest and fair home, but once he caught the gaze of the head of the Lutheran Church, he was denounced an excommunicated, presumably for his unorthodox views. He continued this vacillating journey until 1591, when he would make the fatal decision of accepting an invitation from Giovanni Montenegro to return to Italy. What made this a treacherous journey was the fact that Bruno had already been declared an outlaw by the Inquisition. He was to be arrested on first sight. We can confidently say that his book, The Expulsion of the Triumphant Beast, wherein the beast was easily interpreted to be theological dogmas, was the primary reason for his bounty. It is unclear as to what his primary motivation for returning was. Perhaps he simply longed to see his home again, or maybe he thought himself capable of convincing the Inquisitors of his innocence on the off chance he were to be questioned. His host, Montenegro, belonged to one of the most wealthy and prominent families in Venice. Strangely enough, he, a pious Catholic, requested the aid of Bruno because he believed him to be well informed in regards to a cold powers. Regardless of the risk involved, Bruno set out, arriving in 1592. He promptly began teaching Montenegro mnemonics, but it was not long before he began suspecting Bruno of withholding information, presumably on account of his slow learning. This compounded with the multiple heresies being expelled caused more than a little concern. When Montenegro asked his confessor what he should do about the matter, he was instructed to continue with his lessons for a bit longer before turning him over to the authorities. This plan was still in play when Bruno, perhaps suspecting some foul play, announced that he would be returning to Frankfurt. Montenegro promptly informed the inquisitors of his whereabouts and on May 23rd, 1592, Bruno was arrested. He was held in the prison of the Holy Office in Venice on multiple charges, which included, most severely, the denial of the trinity, incarnation, and transubstantiation. Montenegro also informed them of Bruno's propensity to indulge in central pleasures. Once Bruno had even told him that ladies pleased him well, though he had not yet reached Solomon's number. I will let you speculate on what he means to convey here. During his initial examination, Bruno reported that he had only written as a philosopher and had availed himself of Pampanazi's distinction between the two truths that one might question as a philosopher, doctrines that he accepted as a Catholic. He was not shy in admitting his doubts about the trinity and confessed to his extramarital affairs. Yes, there were at first a time where Bruno saw repentance, which, early on, seemed to be going his way. However, when the head of the Roman Inquisition requested that he be deported to Rome, the request was granted, and on February 27th, 1593, Bruno arrived at his final destination. It was not uncommon for a prisoner to be held for years before receiving a sentence, and so from December 1593 to January of 1999, he waited. On January the 4th of that year, 1599, he was summoned before Clement VIII and given a final 40 days to acknowledge his errors. From that time on, he was heard four more times, but at the end of this process, he declared that he would not retract. On February 8th, 1600, his sentence was passed. It read that Bruno should be delivered to the secular court, to the governor of Rome here present, that thou mayest be punished with the punishment deserved, though we earnestly pray that he will mitigate the rigor of the laws concerning the pains of thy person, that thou mayest not be in danger of death or mutilation of thy members. To this, Bruno sallied forth, a second Socrates, and exclaimed, Prochance, you who pronounce my sentence are in greater fear than I who receive it. And so Bruno, bound to the iron stake, nude and tongue bound, burned in the Piazza Campa De Fiori. He was 52 years old. Bruno was not without his faults, but even so he remains to this day a symbol of free thought and tolerance of differences. Many, including the gentle Spinoza, warmed themselves by the fire which he left behind. In the very Piazza within which he was burned, there now stands a monument, which was erected in 1889 by patrons spanning the world over. Let me know if you enjoy learning about the life of this incredibly intriguing man. And if you enjoy learning about all aspects of Eastern and Western philosophy, consider subscribing to the channel. Here, my goal is the illumination and exaltation of history's greatest philosophic minds and ideas. And as always, thank you for talking philosophy with me. Until next time.