Resulting from the labour of both these branches of physical science, we have the establishment of the great laws of the indestructibility of matter, the correlation of forces, and chemical affinity. Thereby is ended, with various other sacred traditions, the theological theory of a visible universe created out of nothing, so firmly imbedded in the theological thought of the Middle Ages and in the Westminster Catechism.(283)
(283) For a reappearance of the fundamental doctrines of black magic
among theologians, see Rev. Dr. Jewett, Professor of Pastoral Theology
in the Prot. Episc. Gen. Theolog. Seminary of New York, Diabolology: The
Person and the Kingdom of Satan, New York, 1889. For their appearance
among theosophists, see Eliphas Levi, Histoire de la Magie, especially
the final chapters. For opposition to Boyle and chemistry studies at
Oxford in the latter half of the seventeenth century, see the address
of Prof. Dixon, F. R. S., before the British Association, 1894. For the
recent progress of chemistry, and opposition to its earlier development
at Oxford, see Lord Salisbury's address as President of the British
Association, in 1894. For the Protestant survival of the mediaeval
assertion that the universe was created out of nothing, see the
Westminster Catechism, question 15.
In our own time some attempt has been made to renew this war against the physical sciences. Joseph de Maistre, uttering his hatred of them, declaring that mankind has paid too dearly for them, asserting that they must be subjected to theology, likening them to fire—good when confined and dangerous when scattered about—has been one of the main leaders among those who can not relinquish the idea that our body of sacred literature should be kept a controlling text-book of science. The only effect of such teachings has been to weaken the legitimate hold of religion upon men.
In Catholic countries exertion has of late years been mainly confined to excluding science or diluting it in university teachings. Early in the present century a great effort was made by Ferdinand VII of Spain. He simply dismissed the scientific professors from the University of Salamanca, and until a recent period there has been general exclusion from Spanish universities of professors holding to the Newtonian physics. So, too, the contemporary Emperor of Austria attempted indirectly something of the same sort; and at a still later period Popes Gregory XVI and Pius IX discouraged, if they did not forbid, the meetings of scientific associations in Italy. In France, war between theology and science, which had long been smouldering, came in the years 1867 and 1868 to an outbreak. Toward the end of the last century, after the Church had held possession of advanced instruction for more than a thousand years, and had, so far as it was able, kept experimental science in servitude—after it had humiliated Buffon in natural science, thrown its weight against Newton in the physical sciences, and wrecked Turgot's noble plans for a system of public instruction—the French nation decreed the establishment of the most thorough and complete system of higher instruction in science ever known. It was kept under lay control and became one of the glories of France; but, emboldened by the restoration of the Bourbons in 1815, the Church began to undermine this hated system, and in 1868 had made such progress that all was ready for the final assault.
Foremost among the leaders of the besieging party was the Bishop of Orleans, Dupanloup, a man of many winning characteristics and of great oratorical power. In various ways, and especially in an open letter, he had fought the "materialism" of science at Paris, and especially were his attacks levelled at Profs. Vulpian and See and the Minister of Public instruction, Duruy, a man of great merit, whose only crime was devotion to the improvement of education and to the promotion of the highest research in science.(284)
(284) For the exertions of the restored Bourbons to crush the
universities of Spain, see Hubbard, Hist. Contemporaine de l'Espagne,
Paris, 1878, chaps. i and ii. For Dupanloup, Lettre a un Cardinal, see
the Revue de Therapeutique of 1868, p. 221.
The main attack was made rather upon biological science than upon physics and chemistry, yet it was clear that all were involved together.
The first onslaught was made in the French Senate, and the storming party in that body was led by a venerable and conscientious prelate, Cardinal de Bonnechose, Archbishop of Rouen. It was charged by him and his party that the tendencies of the higher scientific teaching at Paris were fatal to religion and morality. Heavy missiles were hurled—such phrases as "sapping the foundations," "breaking down the bulwarks," and the like; and, withal, a new missile was used with much effect—the epithet "materialist."
The results can be easily guessed: crowds came to the lecture-rooms of the attacked professors, and the lecture-room of Prof. See, the chief offender, was crowded to suffocation.
A siege was begun in due form. A young physician was sent by the cardinal's party into the heterodox camp as a spy. Having heard one lecture of Prof. See, he returned with information that seemed to promise easy victory to the besieging party: he brought a terrible statement—one that seemed enough to overwhelm See, Vulpian, Duruy, and the whole hated system of public instruction in France—the statement that See had denied the existence of the human soul.