Galileo and His Judges

by F. R. Wegg-Prosser

In the present age, unhappily, there have been men who have taken the other course, and have contributed their share towards exciting antagonism, heedless of the consequences. Some have done this unwittingly, arguing on the side of religion, but without a proper supply of sound scientific information; others, on the opposite side, have shown so bitterly hostile a spirit to Revelation, if not even to Natural Religion, as to render it more than ever difficult to re-establish that concord between the two studies, that of the supernatural and that of the physical, which should never have been interrupted.

This, however, is so wide a subject that I must not be led into it. Yet I may briefly remark that two of the greatest lights of the Catholic Church, men whose teaching and whose writings have exercised an undying influence, have both, either by words explicitly, or implicitly by their example, contributed to encourage a sound knowledge of natural philosophy, and in harmony with Christian theology.

They both lived when physical science was in its infancy, though at intervals of nearly 800 years apart. St. Augustine, who flourished towards the latter part of that period dominated by the corrupt civilisation of ancient Rome, amongst his voluminous works devoted one treatise to the interpretation of the Book of Genesis, “De Genesi ad Litteram;” and he takes the opportunity of cautioning those whom he addresses against the risk of exciting the ridicule of unbelievers by a mistaken adherence to a rigidly literal interpretation of Holy Scripture. He was, I believe, one of the first that interpreted the six days of Creation in the non-literal sense, though his particular theory is not one in accordance with modern scientific opinion. I allude to him not for the details of natural philosophy, but as enunciating a principle, which some subsequent authors have not followed as they might have done.

St. Thomas Aquinas lived in those middle ages of which he was one of the most brilliant ornaments. The power of his intellect is admitted by those who have little sympathy with his teaching; his literary industry is a standing marvel; and I have already observed that besides the theological and metaphysical works on which he expended so much labour, he wrote a treatise on the astronomy of Aristotle. It may be said this is no very great matter, but I mention it as illustrating the breadth of mind of this great saint and theologian, who could spare time for a study of physical science without neglecting the more solemn duties of his calling. His active mind was alive to every source from whence wisdom and learning could be imbibed; and if he had lived in the age of Galileo, I have sometimes fancied that he would have thrown some oil on the troubled waters, would have counselled prudence to the adventurous astronomer, patience and forbearance to his antagonists. But it is of no avail to indulge in speculations such as these. Each age of the world has its difficulties, moral and intellectual, and we can neither hurry the stream of human thought onwards nor drive it backwards.

So again it is with the dispositions of individuals; if Galileo had been gifted with the calm, dignified reserve of Newton, instead of being the vivacious, loquacious Italian that he in fact was, he might have lived and died in peace.

And now, if I may be permitted to recur once more to the subject of gravitation, I have a word to say as to the lesson which this great all-pervading law seems to teach. It has nothing to do with any question of revealed Religion; but does it not bear the unmistakable signs of the action of an all-wise, an all-powerful Creator? It may possibly be the result of some other, though unknown, law; and even then it brings us back to the same point. The result in nature remains the same, and that result is written in characters that cannot be ignored. Mathematicians have occupied themselves in making suppositions as to the effects of imaginary laws of gravity, some of which might, no doubt, ensure sufficient order and regularity to maintain this world, and the countless worlds that people space, while others would cause hopeless confusion. The striking thing is that the existing law perfectly answers its purpose.

Only let us imagine that no law of attraction acted upon matter at all, nor any force of whatever kind—what would be the result? There would be no coherence, no abode for human or animal life—nothing but chaos and anarchy.

If, then, we contrast this imagined picture with the one actually before us, we are, I think, forcibly led to the conclusion that the physical universe owes its origin, its existence, its harmony to an Omnipotent Being, unseen, yet not unknown, intangible to the senses, ever present to the intelligence.

And now, in order to avoid misapprehension, I venture to restate briefly the propositions I have sought to establish.

I have maintained that the Catholic Church has a right to lay her restraining hand on the speculations of Natural Science, just as much as she has in the case of other speculative inquiries. Those who do not believe in her prerogatives will, of course, deny such right in toto; but I contend that if you grant the existence of this right at all, you cannot exclude Physical Science from its operation.