THE WAR UPON GALILEO.
On this new champion, Galileo, the whole war was at last
concentrated. His discoveries had clearly taken the Copernican
theory out of the list of hypotheses, and had placed it before the
world as a truth. Against him, then, the war was long and bitter.
The supporters of what was called "sound learning" declared his
discoveries deceptions and his announcements blasphemy.
Semi-scientific professors, endeavouring to curry favour with the
Church, attacked him with sham science; earnest preachers attacked
him with perverted Scripture; theologians, inquisitors,
congregations of cardinals, and at last two popes dealt with him,
and, as was supposed, silenced his impious doctrine forever.
I shall present this warfare at some length because, so far as I
can find, no careful summary of it has been given in our language,
since the whole history was placed in a new light by the
revelations of the trial documents in the Vatican Library, honestly
published for the first time by L'Epinois in 1867, and since that
by Gebler, Berti, Favaro, and others.
The first important attack on Galileo began in 1610, when he
announced that his telescope had revealed the moons of the planet
Jupiter. The enemy saw that this took the Copernican theory out of
the realm of hypothesis, and they gave battle immediately. They
denounced both his method and its results as absurd and impious. As
to his method, professors bred in the "safe science" favoured by
the Church argued that the divinely appointed way of arriving at
the truth in astronomy was by theological reasoning on texts of
Scripture; and, as to his results, they insisted, first, that
Aristotle knew nothing of these new revelations; and, next, that
the Bible showed by all applicable types that there could be only
seven planets; that this was proved by the seven golden
candlesticks of the Apocalypse, by the seven-branched candlestick of
the tabernacle, and by the seven churches of Asia; that from
Galileo's doctrine consequences must logically result destructive
to Christian truth. Bishops and priests therefore warned their
flocks, and multitudes of the faithful besought the Inquisition to
deal speedily and sharply with the heretic.
In vain did Galileo try to prove the existence of satellites by
showing them to the doubters through his telescope: they either
declared it impious to look, or, if they did look, denounced the
satellites as illusions from the devil. Good Father Clavius
declared that "to see satellites of Jupiter, men had to make an
instrument which would create them." In vain did Galileo try to
save the great truths he had discovered by his letters to the
Benedictine Castelli and the Grand-Duchess Christine, in which he
argued that literal biblical interpretation should not be applied
to science; it was answered that such an argument only made his
heresy more detestable; that he was "worse than Luther or Calvin."
The war on the Copernican theory, which up to that time had been
carried on quietly, now flamed forth. It was declared that the
doctrine was proved false by the standing still of the sun for
Joshua, by the declarations that "the foundations of the earth are
fixed so firm that they can not be moved," and that the sun
"runneth about from one end of the heavens to the other."
But the little telescope of Galileo still swept the heavens, and
another revelation was announced—the mountains and valleys in the
moon. This brought on another attack. It was declared that this,
and the statement that the moon shines by light reflected from the
sun, directly contradict the statement in Genesis that the moon is
"a great light." To make the matter worse, a painter, placing the
moon in a religious picture in its usual position beneath the feet
of the Blessed Virgin, outlined on its surface mountains and
valleys; this was denounced as a sacrilege logically resulting from
the astronomer's heresy.
Still another struggle was aroused when the hated telescope
revealed spots upon the sun, and their motion indicating the sun's
rotation. Monsignor Elci, head of the University of Pisa, forbade
the astronomer Castelli to mention these spots to his students.
Father Busaeus, at the University of Innspruck, forbade the
astronomer Scheiner, who had also discovered the spots and proposed
a safe explanation of them, to allow the new discovery to be known
there. At the College of Douay and the University of Louvain this
discovery was expressly placed under the ban, and this became the
general rule among the Catholic universities and colleges of
Europe. The Spanish universities were especially intolerant of this
and similar ideas, and up to a recent period their presentation was
strictly forbidden in the most important university of all—that of
Salamanca.
Such are the consequences of placing the instruction of men's minds
in the hands of those mainly absorbed in saving men's souls.
Nothing could be more in accordance with the idea recently put
forth by sundry ecclesiastics, Catholic and Protestant, that the
Church alone is empowered to promulgate scientific truth or direct
university instruction. But science gained a victory here also.
Observations of the solar spots were reported not only from Galileo
in Italy, but from Fabricius in Holland. Father Scheiner then
endeavoured to make the usual compromise between theology and
science. He promulgated a pseudo-scientific theory, which only
provoked derision.
The war became more and more bitter. The Dominican Father Caccini
preached a sermon from the text, "Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye
gazing up into heaven?" and this wretched pun upon the great
astronomer's name ushered in sharper weapons; for, before Caccini
ended, he insisted that "geometry is of the devil," and that
"mathematicians should be banished as the authors of all heresies."
The Church authorities gave Caccini promotion.
Father Lorini proved that Galileo's doctrine was not only heretical
but "atheistic," and besought the Inquisition to intervene. The
Bishop of Fiesole screamed in rage against the Copernican system,
publicly insulted Galileo, and denounced him to the Grand-Duke. The
Archbishop of Pisa secretly sought to entrap Galileo and deliver
him to the Inquisition at Rome. The Archbishop of Florence
solenmnly condemned the new doctrines as unscriptural; and Paul V,
while petting Galileo, and inviting him as the greatest astronomer
of the world to visit Rome, was secretly moving the Archbishop of
Pisa to pick up evidence against the astronomer.
But by far the most terrible champion who now appeared was Cardinal
Bellarmin, one of the greatest theologians the world has known. He
was earnest, sincere, and learned, but insisted on making science
conform to Scripture. The weapons which men of Bellarmin's stamp
used were purely theological. They held up before the world the
dreadful consequences which must result to Christian theology were
the heavenly bodies proved to revolve about the sun and not about
the earth. Their most tremendous dogmatic engine was the statement
that "his pretended discovery vitiates the whole Christian plan of
salvation." Father Lecazre declared "it casts suspicion on the
doctrine of the incarnation." Others declared, "It upsets the
whole basis of theology. If the earth is a planet, and only one
among several planets, it can not be that any such great things
have been done specially for it as the Christian doctrine teaches.
If there are other planets, since God makes nothing in vain, they
must be inhabited; but how can their inhabitants be descended from
Adam? How can they trace back their origin to Noah's ark? How can
they have been redeemed by the Saviour?" Nor was this argument
confined to the theologians of the Roman Church; Melanchthon,
Protestant as he was, had already used it in his attacks on
Copernicus and his school.
In addition to this prodigious theological engine of war there was
kept up a fire of smaller artillery in the shape of texts and
scriptural extracts.
But the war grew still more bitter, and some weapons used in it are
worth examining. They are very easily examined, for they are to be
found on all the battlefields of science; but on that field they
were used with more effect than on almost any other. These weapons
are the epithets "infidel" and "atheist." They have been used
against almost every man who has ever done anything new for his
fellow-men. The list of those who have been denounced as "infidel"
and "atheist" includes almost all great men of science, general
scholars, inventors, and philanthropists. The purest Christian
life, the noblest Christian character, have not availed to shield
combatants. Christians like Isaac Newton, Pascal, Locke, Milton,
and even Fenelon and Howard, have had this weapon hurled against
them. Of all proofs of the existence of a God, those of Descartes
have been wrought most thoroughly into the minds of modern men; yet
the Protestant theologians of Holland sought to bring him to
torture and to death by the charge of atheism, and the Roman
Catholic theologians of France thwarted him during his life and
prevented any due honours to him after his death.
These epithets can hardly be classed with civilized weapons. They
are burning arrows; they set fire to masses of popular prejudice,
always obscuring the real question, sometimes destroying the
attacking party. They are poisoned weapons. They pierce the hearts
of loving women; they alienate dear children; they injure a man
after life is ended, for they leave poisoned wounds in the hearts
of those who loved him best—fears for his eternal salvation, dread
of the Divine wrath upon him. Of course, in these days these
weapons, though often effective in vexing good men and in scaring
good women, are somewhat blunted; indeed, they not infrequently
injure the assailants more than the assailed. So it was not in the
days of Galileo; they were then in all their sharpness and venom.
Yet a baser warfare was waged by the Archbishop of Pisa. This man,
whose cathedral derives its most enduring fame from Galileo's
deduction of a great natural law from the swinging lamp before its
altar, was not an archbishop after the noble mould of Borromeo and
Fenelon and Cheverus. Sadly enough for the Church and humanity, he
was simply a zealot and intriguer: he perfected the plan for
entrapping the great astronomer.
Galileo, after his discoveries had been denounced, had written to
his friend Castelli and to the Grand-Duchess Christine two letters
to show that his discoveries might be reconciled with Scripture. On
a hint from the Inquisition at Rome, the archbishop sought to get
hold of these letters and exhibit them as proofs that Galileo had
uttered heretical views of theology and of Scripture, and thus to
bring him into the clutch of the Inquisition. The archbishop begs
Castelli, therefore, to let him see the original letter in the
handwriting of Galileo. Castelli declines. The archbishop then,
while, as is now revealed, writing constantly and bitterly to the
Inquisition against Galileo, professes to Castelli the greatest
admiration of Galileo's genius and a sincere desire to know more of
his discoveries. This not succeeding, the archbishop at last throws
off the mask and resorts to open attack.
The whole struggle to crush Galileo and to save him would be
amusing were it not so fraught with evil. There were intrigues and
counter-intrigues, plots and counter-plots, lying and spying; and
in the thickest of this seething, squabbling, screaming mass of
priests, bishops, archbishops, and cardinals, appear two popes,
Paul V and Urban VIII. It is most suggestive to see in this crisis
of the Church, at the tomb of the prince of the apostles, on the
eve of the greatest errors in Church policy the world has known, in
all the intrigues and deliberations of these consecrated leaders of
the Church, no more evidence of the guidance or presence of the
Holy Spirit than in a caucus of New York politicians at Tammany Hall.
But the opposing powers were too strong. In 1615 Galileo was
summoned before the Inquisition at Rome, and the mine which had
been so long preparing was sprung. Sundry theologians of the
Inquisition having been ordered to examine two propositions which
had been extracted from Galileo's letters on the solar spots,
solemnly considered these points during ahout a month and rendered
their unanimous decision as follows: "The first proposition, that
the sun is the centre and does not revolve about the earth, is
foolish, absurd, false in theology, and heretical, because
expressly contrary to Holy Scripture"; and "the second proposition,
that the earth is not the centre but revolves about the sun, is
absurd, false in philosophy, and, from a theological point of view
at least, opposed to the true faith."
The Pope himself, Paul V, now intervened again: he ordered that
Galileo be brought before the Inquisition. Then the greatest man of
science in that age was brought face to face with the greatest
theologian—Galileo was confronted by Bellarmin. Bellarmin shows
Galileo the error of his opinion and orders him to renounce it. De
Lauda, fortified by a letter from the Pope, gives orders that the
astronomer be placed in the dungeons of the Inquisition should he
refuse to yield. Bellarmin now commands Galileo, "in the name of
His Holiness the Pope and the whole Congregation of the Holy
Office, to relinquish altogether the opinion that the sun is the
centre of the world and immovable, and that the earth moves, nor
henceforth to hold, teach, or defend it in any way whatsoever,
verbally or in writing." This injunction Galileo acquiesces in and
promises to obey.
This was on the 26th of February, 1616. About a fortnight later the
Congregation of the Index, moved thereto, as the letters and
documents now brought to light show, by Pope Paul, V solemnly
rendered a decree that "the doctrine of the double motion of the
earth about its axis and about the sun is false, and entirely
contrary to Holy Scripture"; and that this opinion must neither be
taught nor advocated. The same decree condemned all writings of
Copernicus and "all writings which affirm the motion of the
earth." The great work of Copernicus was interdicted until
corrected in accordance with the views of the Inquisition; and the
works of Galileo and Kepler, though not mentioned by name at that
time, were included among those implicitly condemned as "affirming
the motion of the earth."
The condemnations were inscribed upon the Index; and, finally, the
papacy committed itself as an infallible judge and teacher to the
world by prefixing to the Index the usual papal bull giving its
monitions the most solemn papal sanction. To teach or even read the
works denounced or passages condemned was to risk persecution in
this world and damnation in the next. Science had apparently lost
the decisive battle.
For a time after this judgment Galileo remained in Rome, apparently
hoping to find some way out of this difficulty; but he soon
discovered the hollowness of the protestations made to him by
ecclesiastics, and, being recalled to Florence, remained in his
hermitage near the city in silence, working steadily, indeed, but
not publishing anything save by private letters to friends in
various parts of Europe.
But at last a better vista seemed to open for him. Cardinal
Barberini, who had seemed liberal and friendly, became pope under
the name of Urban VIII. Galileo at this conceived new hopes, and
allowed his continued allegiance to the Copernican system to be
known. New troubles ensued. Galileo was induced to visit Rome
again, and Pope Urban tried to cajole him into silence, personally
taking the trouble to show him his errors by argument. Other
opponents were less considerate, for works appeared attacking his
ideas—works all the more unmanly, since their authors knew that
Galileo was restrained by force from defending himself. Then, too,
as if to accumulate proofs of the unfitness of the Church to take
charge of advanced instruction, his salary as a professor at the
University of Pisa was taken from him, and sapping and mining
began. Just as the Archbishop of Pisa some years before had tried
to betray him with honeyed words to the Inquisition, so now Father
Grassi tried it, and, after various attempts to draw him out by
flattery, suddenly denounced his scientific ideas as "leading to a
denial of the Real Presence in the Eucharist."
For the final assault upon him a park of heavy artillery was at
last wheeled into place. It may be seen on all the scientific
battlefields. It consists of general denunciation; and in 1631
Father Melchior Inchofer, of the Jesuits, brought his artillery to
bear upon Galileo with this declaration: "The opinion of the
earth's motion is of all heresies the most abominable, the most
pernicious, the most scandalous; the immovability of the earth is
thrice sacred; argument against the immortality of the soul, the
existence of God, and the incarnation, should be tolerated sooner
than an argument to prove that the earth moves." From the other end
of Europe came a powerful echo.
From the shadow of the Cathedral of Antwerp, the noted theologian
Fromundus gave forth his famous treatise, the Ant-Aristarclius. Its
very title-page was a contemptuous insult to the memory of
Copernicus, since it paraded the assumption that the new truth was
only an exploded theory of a pagan astronomer. Fromundus declares
that "sacred Scripture fights against the Copernicans." To prove
that the sun revolves about the earth, he cites the passage in the
Psalms which speaks of the sun "which cometh forth as a bridegroom
out of his chamber." To prove that the earth stands still, he
quotes a passage from Ecclesiastes, "The earth standeth fast
forever." To show the utter futility of the Copernican theory, he
declares that, if it were true, "the wind would constantly blow
from the east"; and that "buildings and the earth itself would fly
off with such a rapid motion that men would have to be provided
with claws like cats to enable them to hold fast to the earth's
surface." Greatest weapon of all, he works up, by the use of
Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas, a demonstration from theology and
science combined, that the earth must stand in the centre, and
that the sun must revolve about it.
fanatics who opposed the truth revealed by Copernicus; such strong
men as Jean Bodin, in France, and Sir Thomas Browne, in England,
declared against it as evidently contrary to Holy Scripture.