In 1615 Galileo was not yet on trial, but the argument that would put him there was already running: if Scripture says the sun stands still over Gibeon, can the earth be the thing that moves? His long letter to Christina of Lorraine, the Grand Duchess of Tuscany, is his answer — that the Bible and nature have different jobs, and that reading one as a textbook for the other damages both.
The Baronio epigram is the letter’s sharpest sentence, and Galileo deploys it carefully. Quoting a cardinal — a Vatican librarian and the Church’s own historian — let him make the case for keeping astronomy out of theology in a voice his opponents could not easily dismiss as a mathematician’s special pleading.
He was not being modest. He was borrowing a cardinal’s authority, and he said so.
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Baronio had died in 1607, eight years before the letter was written, so he never saw the use his sentence was put to. Drake’s footnote suggests Galileo may have heard it when Baronio visited Padua with Cardinal Bellarmine in 1598, though Drake marks that as a probability rather than a fact.
The letter itself circulated in manuscript and was not the document that ended Galileo’s freedom — the 1632 Dialogue was. But its argument, and this borrowed line, are what most people mean today when they say “Galileo said” anything about faith and science.