Galileo and His Judges

by F. R. Wegg-Prosser

I may also be permitted to cite, as confirming my own opinion, the words of the distinguished writer to whom, in common with all students of the Galileo case, I am so much indebted, M. Henri de l’Épinois. They do not, of course, possess the same theological authority as that of the prelate I have just quoted, but, coming from a learned Catholic layman, they are well worthy of attention. These are his words:

Galilée, en établissant les principes de mécanique qui sont ses titres de gloire, comme en soutenant la doctrine de Copernic, a rencontré pour adversaires déclarés les partisans de la philosophie d’Aristote, qui combattaient aussi bien Képler à Tubingue, et Descartes en Hollande. Ils appelèrent à leur aide des textes de l’Écriture, les opposèrent aux affirmations de Galilée. Pour se défendre celui-ci voulut expliquer ces textes. Dès lors, il changeait l’interprétation jusque-là admise par l’Église et éveillait les justes susceptibilités des Catholiques. Avait-il raison? Avait-il tort? Il avait tort dans plusieurs de ses propositions, et sa conduite manqua souvent de prudence; il avait évidemment raison dans sa doctrine fondamentale. En fait le tribunal s’est trompé en condamnant comme fausse et contraire à l’Écriture une doctrine vraie et qui pouvait s’accorder avec les textes sacrés. Il a manqué de prudence en se montrant trop circonspect, et a ainsi dépassé le but. Il faut toutefois le remarquer. Aujourd’hui il est facile de dire: le tribunal a eu tort; mais en 1616, en 1633, la plupart des savants, les Universités et les Académies disaient: il a raison....

Tous les témoignages contemporains nous montrent que deux pensées, deux opinions, deux influences étaient en présence: d’un côté les Aristotéliciens acharnés contre Galilée, détestant ses principes, voulant les anéantir; de l’autre les papes, les cardinaux, pleins d’estime pour Galilée, mais qui voulaient prévenir les fâcheuses conséquences de sa doctrine.

Selon que l’une ou l’autre de ces influences domina dans les conseils, on tint une conduite différente: tantôt sévère et rigoureuse, tantôt douce et indulgente. Mais il n’y eut point là, comme on le prétend encore, de lutte entre la science et le Catholicisme: la question fut débattue entre la science et l’Aristotélisme.[19]

It was not till the year 1757 that any authoritative step was taken to relax the prohibitions imposed by the Index on the works advocating the Copernican system. This was more than a century after the condemnation of Galileo, seventy years after the publication of the “Principia,” and thirty years after the discovery of the aberration of light. Even Dr. Ward allows that it might have been more prudent to remove the prohibitions some forty or fifty years sooner than was actually the case. No one, he observes, supposes the Church to be infallible in mere matters of prudence, and I think that in making this statement, which, I presume, every theologian would at once endorse, he half admits the principle for which I contend; for if the Roman authorities could err in point of prudence in leaving the censure so long in force, might they not err—I mean, of course, as to the prudent administration of discipline—in inflicting those censures at all, or at any rate in applying them so rigorously in practice as was done in the instance of Galileo?

However, be this as it may, in the year 1757 the relaxation of the censures took place; in 1820, on the 16th August, a distinct permission was given for teaching the movement of the Earth; and again on the 17th September, 1822, a re-examination of the whole subject having taken place, a decree appeared, sanctioned by the Pope, Leo XII., in which the Inquisitors General, in conformity with the decrees of 1757 and 1820, declared that the printing and publishing at Rome of works treating of the movement of the Earth and the immobility of the Sun, according to the opinion of modern astronomers, was henceforth permitted. Thus the decree of 1616 was practically abrogated.

Mr. Mivart, among other remarks on the proceedings in Galileo’s case, says that no amends were ever made by the authorities of the Church for the injustice done to the philosopher, but he does not state what kind of amends or what sort of apology he expected. If he means that no personal reparation was made to Galileo, that is doubtless true; nor was any sacrifice ever offered to his Manes. Indeed, it must be allowed that the ecclesiastical authorities hindered the erection, after his decease, of a monument in his honour. Nor is this a matter for surprise; it may be taken for granted that the object of those who desired to erect the monument was to pay an especial tribute of respect to the deceased astronomer as one who had suffered unjustly; and that was precisely what the Pope and Cardinals of that age would not for a moment admit.

No personal amends, then, were made to Galileo in life or in death; but I think this was not the point to which Mr. Mivart intended to allude. I believe he had in his mind a different sort of reparation—that, namely, supposed to be owing to the injured cause of Science. If that be so, then I can only say that he must have been unaware of the facts above mentioned, of the proceedings taken in Rome in 1757, in 1820, and in 1822.

The adjustment of the relations of revealed Religion with physical Science is often perplexing, owing partly to mistaken zeal in insisting on particular interpretations of certain passages in Holy Scripture, and partly to the prevalence, at different times, of doubtful scientific theories, which flourish for a time, and then fade away because they fail to stand the test of continued and rigorous investigation.

Instances of both these will readily occur to the mind, and the Copernican theory in the seventeenth century will be a prominent one, as coming under the first of the two heads. But it is not fair, as I have already argued, to be too severe upon the men who clung with tenacity to the old traditional interpretation of Scripture. It is, in fact, only right so to cling until some just reason is shown for introducing a fresh interpretation. In this case there were some good reasons, no doubt; but there were also bad reasons alleged, and, as we have seen, Galileo, with all his great ability and mechanical knowledge so far beyond his age, could yet damage his cause with unsound arguments.

Such being the case, amidst the whirlpool of good and bad arguments—that drawn from the tides being by no means the only one of the latter class—it is not astonishing that even able and intelligent men were misled.

The antipathy to adopting a new system of the universe—a system which demolished many cherished ideas and traditional opinions—was overwhelmingly strong; the reasons uncertain, or, at least, inconclusive. The discoveries of Galileo had, no doubt, overthrown the system of Ptolemy, but they had not established that of Copernicus, so long as there remained what may be called the tentative theory of Tycho Brahé, who was one of the greatest observers of his day. Though he did not unravel the true cause of the motions of the heavenly bodies, and went, in fact, in a wrong direction, we must never forget the important services he rendered to science. He was the first to employ refraction as a correction to the apparent positions of the celestial bodies; his collection of instruments, on which he had expended the whole of his private fortune, was the finest that had ever yet been seen; and, in fact, his observations, utilised by others, had a great share in leading to the discovery of the real nature of the planetary movements.[20] Small blame, then, must be meted out to those who held on for a time to the system excogitated by so enlightened a man. I do not mean to deny what I have already stated—that the Cardinals who put on the Index of forbidden books the works of Copernicus and others, and those who condemned Galileo, were unable, astronomically speaking, to read the signs of the times. All I am asserting is that there was much, even from a scientific point of view, to excuse their inability.