Galileo and His Judges

by F. R. Wegg-Prosser

And to take the Copernican theory in particular: profoundly interesting as it is, let us ask ourselves not merely whether it is so important as to require that all religious considerations should give way before it, but whether the knowledge of its truth, which we now possess, adds very materially to the sum total of human happiness. Let us then, for a moment, think how many men among the millions that people this Earth, or if we please to limit our inquiry, how many among the civilised nations of the Earth understand anything whatever about the motions of the heavenly bodies. No doubt, in England, and probably many other countries, the elementary books that are taught to children state in a rough general way that the Earth, like other planets, goes round the Sun in the space of one year, and revolves on its axis in twenty-four hours. So far, so good. Suppose you asked those, who as children have learned these facts, a few ordinary questions in astronomy—I do not mean things relating to celestial distances, or anything that can be learnt by heart, but questions requiring thought—how many would be able to answer you? How many, for example, could explain such a familiar phenomenon as the harvest moon?—though that has nothing to do with the Copernican theory. How many could explain the precession of the equinoxes? Suppose yourself in a room full of educated persons, but not specially instructed in science, how many could state correctly the first law of motion?[17]

It is unnecessary to multiply instances; astronomy is obviously a science adapted not to the multitude of mankind, but to the comparatively few, who reflect and think. If, then, some check were given in the seventeenth century, by the action of the ecclesiastical authorities in Rome, to the progress of physical astronomy, we must surely allow that the injury to human welfare and human happiness was so small that we need not dwell upon it.

Mr. Mivart tells us that Descartes was deterred for some time from publishing his work. Now Descartes, as a pure mathematician, stands in the highest rank. The method which he invented of applying algebraical analysis to geometry has facilitated calculation to an extent impossible to over-estimate; notwithstanding the discovery and adoption of other and rival methods, that of Descartes still holds its own, and will probably do so as long as the science of mathematics is cultivated.

But as an astronomer, Descartes can be allowed no such pre-eminence; his work on Vortices was actually a retrograde step, and in France it even hindered for a considerable time the reception of the true doctrine of universal gravitation. So that we may well say if Descartes had never published his book at all, physical astronomy would have been the gainer rather than the loser.

Mr. Mivart writes as if he were under some apprehension that the Church would interfere with his favourite study of biology. I believe his fears are unfounded. The Roman ecclesiastical authorities are doubtless conscious of the fact that there is a great moral chasm between the Europe of the seventeenth century and the Europe of this day. The means that were adapted for contending against error, real or supposed, two hundred and fifty years ago, are inapplicable in the present age. Experience has shown that false scientific theories are pretty sure to be demolished, time enough being allowed, either by the internal dissensions of their own supporters, or by the sharp criticism of the supporters of some antagonistic theory; or, perhaps, the triumphant progress of new discoveries. Works of a particularly offensive or irreligious character may from time to time be put on the Index of prohibited books; but the Church will probably leave purely scientific hypotheses of all kinds to find their own level, and to stand or fall, as the case may be.

There remains one objection, brought forward by Mr. Roberts, which I may notice. It is one of the condemned propositions recited in the well-known “Syllabus,” that the decrees of the Apostolic See and the Roman Congregations hinder the free progress of science. But can any one honestly say that they do? It is one thing to admit that the Church may for certain reasons put an occasional and temporary check on the study of some particular science; another, to accuse her of generally and systematically hindering the progress of knowledge; for be it observed that the Latin word, scientia, from which the above is translated, does not merely mean physical science.

The Catholic Church has put strong restrictions on the use of vernacular translations of Holy Scripture—restrictions which, though greatly modified in practice, are not yet abolished—but a proposition stating broadly that the Church was opposed to the study of Scripture would be condemned, and very justly so.

I now come to deal with the other extreme opinion, if I may venture so to call it—that maintained by the late Dr. Ward, and others—to the effect that not only has the Church a right to condemn this or that scientific theory, but that the exercise of such right, as practically exemplified in the prohibition of certain Copernican works, and in the condemnation of Galileo, was sound and prudent, and what might reasonably have been expected. I am not sure whether Dr. Ward goes quite so far as regards the condemnation of Galileo by the Inquisition; but he does so in respect of the previous decree of 1616. His ground is that at that period the Copernican doctrine was, even scientifically speaking, improbable; while it gave a shock to those who venerated the traditional interpretation of Holy Scripture. Few men have a greater respect than myself for the memory of the able writer whose views I am about to criticise; but physical science was not his strong point. His knowledge of metaphysical philosophy was great; so, too, was his knowledge of dogmatic theology; but he does not appear to have been well versed in natural science, and with that modesty which is a characteristic of sound and solid learning, he was careful never to pretend acquaintance with any particular branch of knowledge, unless he really possessed it.

He was at times even scrupulous in expressing his acknowledgments for the assistance he had received from others in matters outside the limits of his own studies; as also in admitting an error if he felt really guilty of one; showing therein a candour and honesty of purpose that we do not always meet with. So much I say in tribute to an honoured memory. I now proceed to state why I cannot follow his views. It is surely paradoxical, to say the least of it, to maintain that an opinion is theologically false but scientifically true; or to state the case more accurately, to maintain that it was right to condemn as contrary to Scripture what has since turned out to be true—assuming, of course, this latter to be the fact, which Dr. Ward fully admitted. It may doubtless be pleaded in mitigation that the Cardinals only meant that the opinion was contrary to the traditional interpretation of Scripture, and that it was just conceivable that the method of interpretation would have to be revised hereafter; and we have seen that Bellarmine’s letter to Foscarini points decidedly in that direction. Nevertheless, the decree on the face of it appears to imply more than this, and when coupled with the subsequent condemnation of Galileo, and strengthened by the repeated prohibition, even in more stringent terms, of all works favouring the Copernican theory, it obviously dealt as heavy a blow at the doctrine of the Earth’s diurnal and annual movement, as could well have been done, short of a dogmatic decision. It may be quite true that if Galileo had been more prudent and judicious, much of this would have been averted, and possibly the decree of 1616 might have been modified or suspended a century earlier than it actually was so. But without discussing imaginary possibilities, we take the facts as they stand.

Now to give one or two specimens of Dr. Ward’s mode of writing on this subject. He says (after stating correctly the Catholic principle that books theologically unsound should be kept from persons who are not specially qualified to read them without injury): “In Galileo’s time all books which advocated the truth of Copernicanism were theologically unsound. And a most important service was done by preserving the Catholic flock free from the plague; free from a most false, proud, irreverent, and dangerous principle of Scriptural interpretation.”—Dublin Review, October, 1865.