Galileo Galilei Linceo--for such was his name in full--was born at
Pisa, the 18th February, 1564. When about seventeen years old he
commenced studying mathematics and physical science at the University
of Pisa, and later on, in 1585, he came to Florence, in order to go
through a mathematical course.
He seems to have been wholly free from the sceptical and irreligious
spirit which unhappily warps the judgment of some scientific men
in our own day. His moral conduct, however, in early life was not
irreproachable, and it is recorded of him that he had a _liaison_ with
a lady named Maria Gamba, who became the mother of three children; but
this illicit attachment did not last very long, and a separation took
place, after which he saw Maria Gamba no more, and she was subsequently
married to some other person. He then entered the celebrated monastery
of Vallombrosa, where he was a novice for a short period; but, having
apparently no vocation for the religious life, he left the monastery,
and resumed his former pursuits. At the age of twenty-five he was
appointed professor of mathematics at Pisa, the Grand Duke of Tuscany
having invited him there on the recommendation of Cardinal del Monte.
Here it was that he first excited hostility by attacking the theories
of Aristotle on physical science, a thing not to be done with impunity
in that age.
I have already alluded to the telescope constructed by Galileo, and it
is scarcely necessary to say that such an instrument, however simple
and rudimentary in its construction, could not fail to reveal to an
intelligent observer truths hitherto unknown. It was discovered that
the planet Jupiter had satellites, that Saturn had a ring, that Venus
passed through phases like the moon, that there were spots on the
Sun; this last discovery having been made about the same time by the
learned Jesuit, Father Scheiner, and by Fabricius. It was not, I think,
until the year 1610 that Galileo published his work called “Nuntius
Siderius,” in which he recounted the results he had obtained. This work
seems to have provoked some considerable opposition, but Galileo was
supported by the approbation of his patron, the Grand Duke of Tuscany.
In the following year, 1611, he went to Rome, and here he was well
received and treated with distinction by prelates of high position,
and even by the Pope then reigning, Paul V. Moreover, when, in the
year 1612, he published another work, which he called “Discorso sui
Gallegianti,” he met with general approval, and no less a person than
Cardinal Maffei Barberini, who afterwards became Pope under the title
of Urban VIII., is stated to have declared that he was in all points of
the same opinion as Galileo.
Now it is quite true that incidental conversations, passing, perhaps,
through the hands of two or three persons, are not to be greatly relied
upon. It is also to be remarked that men in the position of Cardinals
or ecclesiastics of high rank may often look with toleration and even
favour on opinions stated in a guarded and hypothetical way, and yet,
if called on to pronounce an official judgment on such opinions, would
feel it a duty to pronounce against them. Nevertheless, there appears
considerable reason for thinking that since Galileo’s reputation stood
so high, and his ability was so manifest, he would have escaped all
censure if he had confined himself strictly to stating his views on the
Copernican system as a scientific hypothesis, and had firmly resisted
the temptation (strong as it was) to allow himself to be drawn into the
Scriptural argument.
This, however, it must be remembered, was mainly the fault of his
opponents. Unable to grapple with the question in its purely scientific
aspect, some zealous anti-Copernicans turned to Holy Scripture for
support--Scripture in its most rigid and literal interpretation; an
interpretation, however, it must in fairness be stated, enshrined in
the traditions of successive generations.
It is said that a monk named Sizi went so far as to maintain that the
Bible contradicted the existence of the satellites of Jupiter. If this
be true (which one cannot help doubting), we may well say that amongst
all the perversions of Scripture in which human fancy has indulged,
there is scarcely any one more monstrous; and we must not imagine that
all the Biblical arguments used against Galileo and Copernicus were so
unreasonable and exaggerated.
It was in 1613 that our philosopher published at Rome another work,
entitled “L’Istoria e Dimostrazione Intorno alle Macchie Solari.” It
was, generally speaking, well received, though he drew a conclusion in
favour of the Earth’s rotation on its axis.
The controversy, however, became still keener on the all-important
point of the interpretation of Scripture. Now that we can look back
on the events of that day with all judicious calmness, we may well
blame Galileo for having let himself fall into so dangerous a snare;
but there was some excuse for him, attacked as he was on this very
ground of the supposed incompatibility of his hypothesis with the
teaching of Scripture; and so he unfortunately committed a grave error
of judgment in grappling himself with a religious difficulty which, if
wise, he would have left entirely to theologians. It may be said that
this is not what we should naturally expect. We should suppose that
the ecclesiastical authorities would welcome any attempt to prove that
new scientific theories were not irreconcilable with the Scriptural
narrative, and possibly such would be the case at the present day;
but in those times it was certainly otherwise, and I am not quite
sure whether the tone and tendency of Rome (that is to say, Rome as
the centre of ecclesiastical tradition and authority) is not still,
as it was then, in favour of the same rule of conduct--that, namely,
which keeps a scientific man to his own province, and leaves to the
authorities of the Church the duty of reconciling physical theories and
speculations with the teaching of Holy Scripture. On this last-named
point I need not say I speak with the utmost diffidence; but on the
historical question, as to whether that was the feeling which animated
Popes and Cardinals in Galileo’s day, I think there can be very little
doubt.
Now, as the controversy became embittered, a certain Father Cassini, a
Dominican, preaching in the Church of Santa Maria Novella at Florence,
attacked the Copernican doctrine as taught by Galileo; this aroused the
wrath of the philosopher, and he wrote (on the 21st December, 1612) a
letter to a Benedictine monk, Father Castelli, protesting against the
interpretation of Scripture which Father Cassini had used; and while
so protesting, over-stepping, it appears, the limits of prudence. The
result was that this unguarded letter was denounced by Father Lorini to
the Cardinal Prefect of the Congregation of the Index.
The consequence of this was that in the early part of the year 1615
there commenced a process which in the following year had an important
issue. It is said that in the month of March, 1615, Cardinal del Monte
and Cardinal Bellarmine had a conversation on the subject of Galileo
and his teaching, the result being that they both agreed on this one
point: that Galileo ought to avoid entering on the interpretation
of Scripture, this being a matter reserved to the ecclesiastical
authorities.
Galileo was not then at Rome; and two influential friends of his, Mgr.
Dini and Prince Cesi, advised him to be quiet and silent; such advice,
however, was not to his taste, and he, on the contrary, thrust his
head into the lion’s mouth, confident of ultimate success. He came
personally to Rome, mixed in society, and endeavoured by the use of
such arguments as occurred to him in conversation to refute the ancient
opinions. Several of his friends, including some of the Cardinals,
advised moderation, but in vain; and such was his confidence in his
cause, that in the early part of the year 1616 he actually began to
complain of the delay in the process.
The Pope looked upon his conduct with evident displeasure, and it is
stated in a letter of Guicciardini that on one occasion Cardinal Orsini
spoke to him in favour of Galileo, and he answered that the Cardinal
would do well to persuade his friend to abandon his opinion--adding
that the affair was placed in the hands of the Cardinals of the Holy
Office. After this incident, it is said, the Pope sent for Bellarmine,
talked the matter over with him, and agreed that Galileo’s opinion was
erroneous and heretical. A decided step was now taken: on the 19th
February, 1616, there was sent to certain theologians belonging to the
Congregation of the Inquisition--technically called the _Qualifiers_--a
copy of the propositions, the censure of which had been demanded: 1st,
That the Sun was the centre of the world, and consequently immovable
locally; 2nd, That the Earth was not the centre of the world, nor
immovable, but moved round itself by a diurnal rotation.
The Qualifiers of the Congregation met on the 23rd February, and on
the next day, in presence of the eleven theologians who had been
consulted, the censure was pronounced. All declared that the first
proposition was foolish and absurd, philosophically speaking, and
also formally heretical, since it expressly contradicted numerous
texts of Holy Scripture, according to the proper meaning of the words,
and according to the ordinary interpretation and the sense admitted
by the holy Fathers and theological doctors. All declared that the
second proposition deserved the same censure philosophically, and
regarding theological truth, that it was at least erroneous in point
of faith. The next day, 25th February, Cardinal Mellinus notified to
the Commissary of the Holy Office what had taken place, and the Pope
desired Cardinal Bellarmine to send for Galileo, and admonish him to
abandon the opinion in question; if he refused to obey, the Father
Commissary, in presence of a notary and witnesses, was to enjoin
upon him a command to abstain wholly from teaching such doctrine and
opinion, from defending it, or treating of it; if, however, he would
not acquiesce, that he should then be imprisoned. On the following day,
26th February, this was accordingly done, and Galileo was warned “ut
supra dictum opinionem... omnino relinquat, nec eam de cetero quovis
modo doceat teneat aut defendat verbo aut scriptis,” with the threat
already mentioned in case of disobedience. Galileo promised to obey.
In the beginning of the month of March there appeared a printed decree
of the Congregation of the Index prohibiting five works; and here
we arrive at the curious fact that no work whatever of Galileo was
prohibited by name. The feeling in the high ecclesiastical circles
of Rome seems at that time to have been very much to this effect:
“Let us stamp out the obnoxious opinion, but let us spare Galileo
individually.” The final result (including what took place in after
years) is strikingly contrasted with such expectations, if they
existed. Galileo had to suffer personally, not bodily torture or
incarceration, but humiliation and failure; whilst the dreaded doctrine
of Copernicanism, purified from incidental error and taught in an
enlightened form, has triumphed and reigns supreme. The decree of the
Index is particularly noteworthy, for it is the principal matter with
which we have to deal. After prohibiting certain Protestant books, the
decree proceeds as follows: “And since it has come to the knowledge
of the above-named Sacred Congregation that that false Pythagorean
doctrine, altogether contrary to Holy Scripture, concerning the
movement of the Earth and the immobility of the Sun, taught by Nicolas
Copernicus in his work on the Revolutions of the Heavenly Orbs, and
by Diego di Zunica in his work on Job, is already spread about and
received by many persons, as may be seen in a printed letter of a
certain Carmelite Father, entitled ‘A Letter of the Rev. Father,
Master Paul Anthony Foscarini, on the opinion of the Pythagoreans and
of Copernicus respecting the mobility of the Earth and the stability
of the Sun, and the new Pythagorean System of the World,’ printed at
Naples by Lazzaro Scorrigio, 1615, in which the said Father endeavours
to show that the aforesaid doctrine of the immobility of the Sun in
the centre of the universe and the mobility of the Earth is consonant
to the truth, and is not opposed to Holy Scripture: Therefore, lest
any opinion of this kind insinuate itself to the detriment of Catholic
truth, [the Congregation] has decreed that the said [works of] _Nicolas
Copernicus on the Revolutions of the Orbs_ and _Diego di Zunica on
Job_ should be suspended until they are corrected. But that the book
of Father Paul Anthony Foscarini the Carmelite should be altogether
prohibited and condemned; and that all other books teaching the same
thing should equally be prohibited, as by the present decree it
prohibits, condemns, and suspends them all respectively. In witness
whereof the present decree has been signed and sealed by the hand and
seal of the Most Illustrious and Most Reverend Lord Cardinal of Santa
Cecilia, Bishop of Albano, on the 5th day of March, 1616.”
Here follow the signatures:
“P. EPISC. ALBANEN. CARD. SANCTÆ CÆCILIÆ.
“_Locus_ ✠ _sigilli_.
“F. FRANCISCUS MAGDALENUS CAPIFERREUS,
“_Ord. Prædicat., Secretarius_.”
There followed a somewhat remarkable episode: some opponents of
Galileo having spread a report that he had been compelled to make an
abjuration, and also had had certain salutary penances inflicted on
him, Cardinal Bellarmine gave him a certificate to the effect that
nothing of the kind had taken place, but only that the declaration made
by the Pope and published by the Congregation of the Index had been
communicated to him; in which declaration was contained the statement
that the doctrine attributed to Copernicus on the movement of the Earth
round the Sun, and the stability of the Sun in the centre of the world
without its moving from east to west, was contrary to Holy Scripture,
and so could not be defended or held. It appears that the abjuration
alluded to was a solemn act demanded only from those who were suspected
of unsoundness in the faith, and carried with it some disgrace. Galileo
was naturally anxious to be cleared from such imputation, and the
authorities in Rome willingly met him so far, and avoided all acts
casting a personal slur on him. It is noteworthy that the interview
between Cardinal Bellarmine and Galileo took place after the answers
had been returned by the Qualifiers of the Inquisition, but before the
publication of the decree of the Index. The certificate given by the
Cardinal, to which I have just alluded, was subsequent, and bears date
the 26th May, 1616.
And here we may pause in the narrative, to inquire briefly what was the
effect, in an ecclesiastical point of view, of the decree just quoted,
and of the admonition given by Papal order to Galileo. On the mere face
of it, it cannot surely be maintained that there was any doctrinal
decision, strictly speaking, at all. I do not wish to undervalue the
importance of the disciplinary decision, I think it most momentous;
moreover, the reason alleged for it was that the opinion, the
publication of which was to be forbidden, was contrary to Scripture;
but I fail to see how this last-mentioned fact can possibly convert
what is avowedly a disciplinary enactment, prohibiting the circulation
of certain books, into a dogmatic decree.
I should submit it to the judgment of theologians whether this would
not be true even if the Pope’s name had been explicitly introduced
as sanctioning the decree; as it stands, however, the decree appears
simply in the name of the Congregation of the Index.
It would, I think, scarcely be necessary to argue these points at
length, were it not that the contrary view has been maintained in a
work entitled “The Pontifical Decrees against the Doctrine of the
Earth’s Movement, and the Ultramontane Defence of them,” by the Rev.
William W. Roberts, a work written with ability and moderation as well
as considerable knowledge of the subject, since the author, though
determined to make all the controversial capital that is possible
out of the case of Galileo, rises superior to the vulgar atmosphere
of fable and false accusation; never alleges anything like personal
cruelty or ill-treatment as against the Pope or the Inquisition, and
scarcely alludes to the mythical story of “E pur si muove.”
Moreover, even were the intrinsic value of the work less than it is,
attention has been publicly drawn to it by a writer whom, both from a
religious and scientific point of view, we feel bound to treat with
respect--Professor Mivart--although he has formed, on the other hand,
an exaggerated estimate of the importance of Mr. Roberts’ facts and
arguments.
Here I wish to introduce an observation, as a sort of anticipatory
self-defence, which is that I do not feel bound to enter into all
the theological minutiæ which learned disputants have introduced
into this case. Those who wish to sift such arguments in detail can
read the articles in _The Dublin Review_ by the late Dr. Ward (since
republished) on the one hand, and Mr. Roberts’ book on the other. I
myself venture to look at the question as a lay theologian, employing
this expression not by any means in the sense of one who, having read
two or three theological treatises, presumes to discuss the sacred
science, himself an amateur, with men whose profession it is to teach
theology; for, to use a familiar expression, I hope I know my place
better. I employ the word in the sense of a man who seeks to know what
the Church teaches as requisite for a layman, that is an _educated_
layman, to understand: thus the lay theologian, as I consider him,
ought to be able to discriminate between what the Church teaches him as
matter of faith and what she enjoins or encourages him to hold under
a less solemn sanction. He ought also to distinguish clearly between
matters laid down by the Church as parts of her definitive teaching
both on faith and morals--points, that is to say, laid down as of
_principle_, and therefore irrevocable--and on the other hand matters
of discipline which, whether intrinsically important or not, may and
do vary from age to age. He may of course make mistakes, as even
theologians may do, in applying his principles to particular cases; but
he ought to understand what the principles are.
Now applying such plain principles to the Galileo case, I do not
understand how any one can come to any other conclusions than these:
first, that the decree of the Index and the other proceedings in
1616, though founded on reasons of doctrine, that is of the correct
interpretation of Scripture, were purely disciplinary in their
nature; secondly, that this being so, they were not infallible or
_irreformable_, as the term is; thirdly, that they were, however,
real acts of discipline, and intended to be enforced more or less
stringently according to circumstances. This last-named aspect of the
case is a matter of importance, and I shall return to it hereafter;
but the attempt to impugn the doctrinal infallibility of the Catholic
Church on the strength of such decisions as that of the Index in 1616,
seems to me so groundless that I should not discuss the question
further were it not that I think it right to notice some of Mr.
Roberts’ arguments.
It appears that certain theologians have held that decrees of the
Roman Congregations are to be considered infallible, provided they
contain a statement in so many words that the Pope has approved them,
and provided also that they have been published by his explicit order.
This, it may be mentioned, does not necessarily imply that such decrees
concern matters which are strictly and technically matters of _faith_,
other less momentous issues being frequently involved.
The decree of the Index in 1616 had no such statement about the Pope’s
approbation, nor any notice of his express order for its publication,
although, in reality, it was undoubtedly approved by him. Mr. Roberts
argues that this distinction is a worthless one, because, at that time,
the custom, since adopted on certain important occasions, of bringing
in the Pope’s name and authority explicitly, had not come into being.
As an _argumentum ad hominem_ against certain writers who have
suggested that such an omission in the Galileo case was a remarkable
instance of Divine Providence, Mr. Roberts’ answer may stand; but it
has nothing to do with the main argument. It only shows that whereas
the Popes of more modern times have employed the Roman Congregations
as instruments for conveying to the world their own decrees on certain
doctrinal subjects, the Popes of the early part of the seventeenth
century had no such custom. They used the Congregations for various
disciplinary purposes, founded sometimes, no doubt, on reasons of
doctrine, and they sanctioned the proceedings so taken; but they did
not give them the explicit impress of their own name and authority.
Even when this latter has taken place, it is not every theologian who
holds that such decree is infallible. Cardinal Franzelin, a writer of
the highest authority, whose words I give in a note,[3] held that it
was not infallibly true, but only infallibly safe. His language is not
quite clear to the non-theological mind, but he probably meant that the
doctrine conveyed in such a decree was safe, so that it might certainly
be held without injury to any one’s faith, and that it was not safe to
reject it. But it is clear that he was not speaking of such decrees as
took place in the Galileo case, but only of those which bear on them
the marks of Papal authority in the strict sense.
His own words are pretty plain proof of this. They are extracted from
his work, “De Divina Traditione et Scriptura,” and follow the other
words to which I have alluded:
Coroll. D. Auctoritas infallibilitatis et supremum magisterium
Pontificis definientis omnino nihil unquam pertinuit ad causam
Galilei Galilei, et ad ejurationem opinionis ipsi injunctam.
Non solum enim nulla vel umbra definitionis Pontificiæ ibi
intercessit, sed in toto illo decreto Cardinalium S. Officii,
et in formula ejurationis ne nomen quidem Pontificis unquam
sive directe sive indirecte pronuntiatum reperitur...
pertinebat omnino ad _auctoritatem providentiæ ecclesiasticæ_
cavere, ne quid detrimenti caperet interpretatio Scripturæ per
conjecturas et hypotheses plerisque tum temporis visas minime
verisimiles.
We are not, however, I think, obliged to endorse the opinion conveyed
in the last sentence that I have quoted, though certain theologians of
great weight have held that the ecclesiastical authorities of Galileo’s
day were only acting with proper prudence in the then existing state of
astronomical knowledge. I shall hereafter state why I feel it difficult
to follow their judgment.
But the words I have quoted from Cardinal Franzelin show plainly that
the decrees he had in his mind, when he wrote that they were infallibly
safe, were of a nature quite different from anything that took place
in the processes connected with Galileo; and although he alludes
principally to that which passed in 1633 before the Inquisition, he
appears to include the whole affair in the judgment he passes upon
it; indeed, the sentence of the tribunal in 1633, and the abjuration
enjoined upon Galileo at that time, were made to depend on the decree
of the Index in 1616, and the admonition then given to Galileo by
Cardinal Bellarmine. Cardinal Franzelin’s opinion, then, whatever
weight we may give to it, is clear enough.
I give one more extract from the work of this learned author on the
subject of the Pope’s infallibility, showing that he was of opinion
that doctrinal definitions must be clearly and unmistakably intended
as such, and must carry with them some manifest signs to that effect.
Extract from the same on the subject of the Pope’s infallibility, pp.
108 and 109:
Neque enim _Cathedra Apostolica_ aliud est, quam supremum
authenticum magisterium, cujus definitiva sententia doctrinalis
obligat universam Ecclesiam ad consensum. Intentio hæc
definiendi doctrinam seu docendi definitivâ sententiâ et
auctoritate obligante universam Ecclesiam ad consensum debet
esse manifesta et cognoscibilis claris indiciis.
In the case we have before us, I should say that the “clara indicia”
were all the other way; and indeed, were it not for the dust which
controversialists have tried to throw in our eyes, I should be disposed
to add that we might fairly drop this part of our subject--I mean the
part which raises the question whether there was not some decision or
definition, such as Catholics are bound by their principles to admit as
infallible, given against the Copernican doctrine.
It is right, however, to notice one or two other arguments urged by Mr.
Roberts.
Some of these consist in bringing forward supposed parallel cases, in
which the Pope has insisted on a full and complete assent being given
to the decision of some Roman Congregation. One case is that of a
“distinguished theologian and philosopher, Günther,” whose works were
condemned by a decree of the Index, having, however, the notice that
the Pope had ratified the decision and ordered its publication. This
was in 1857. Günther and many of his followers submitted, but others
contended that a merely disciplinary decree was not conclusive. On this
Pope Pius IX. addressed a brief to the Archbishop of Cologne, in which
he intimated that a decree sanctioned by his authority and published by
his order should have been sufficient to close the question, that the
doctrine taught by Günther could not be held to be true, and that it
was not permitted to any one to defend it from that time forward.
I extract the words as given by Mr. Roberts:
Quod quidem Decretum [that of the Index] Nostra Auctoritate
sancitum Nostroque jussu vulgatum, sufficere plane debebat,
ut questio omnis penitus dirempta censeretur, et omnes qui
Catholico gloriantur nomine clare aperteque intelligerent
sibi esse omnino obtemperandum, et sinceram haberi non posse
doctrinam Güntharianis libris contentam, ac nemini deinceps
fas esse doctrinam iis libris traditam tueri ac propugnare, et
illos libros sine debita facultate legere ac retinere.
Mr. Roberts, it must be remembered, is not simply investigating the
history of Galileo, but is contending, for other reasons, against
certain opinions on the subject of Papal infallibility held by an able
foreign theologian, M. Bouix, and by Dr. Ward, and he uses Galileo as
a weapon (and, in his estimation, a most formidable weapon) in the
controversy. Now, in the capacity I have assumed of a _lay theologian_,
I do not feel bound to discuss whether the decree in Günther’s case
was merely disciplinary, or whether it was dogmatic; whether it came
within the category of strictly infallible pronouncements, or whether
it did not; and supposing the former alternative, whether it was
infallible in virtue of the Pope’s sanction and command to publish
in the first instance, or whether it only became so in virtue of the
brief addressed to the Archbishop of Cologne. All these questions,
interesting in themselves, I feel myself at liberty to pass over,
and to leave them, with the most profound respect, to be sifted by
professed theologians; I merely venture to remark, without attempting
to argue the matter, that, to my uninstructed intelligence, the whole
thing, including the Pope’s brief, appears to have a disciplinary
character rather than anything else.
What, however, I would say is this--the questions above mentioned,
which in the Günther case are doubtful, are in that of Galileo clear
enough; the clause stating that the Pope had sanctioned the decree, and
ordered it to be published, on which the doubt alluded to is founded,
did not appear in the decree against the Copernican books; nor did the
Popes of that day issue any brief, such as Pius IX. addressed to the
Archbishop of Cologne.
Mr. Roberts, it is true, thinks he has a clenching argument in a Bull
of Pope Alexander VII., of which I will speak hereafter, and which in
my humble judgment has the least force of any that he has adduced.
The case of Professor Ubaghs, of the University of Louvain, which Mr.
Roberts thinks still more to the point, seems, I confess, to me even
weaker than the other for our present purpose. Here, again, I leave it
to theologians to decide whether the decree was or was not infallible;
but it undoubtedly appears, in point of form, to be a doctrinal
one, and emanated from the United Congregations of the Index and
Inquisition, to whom the Pope had expressly entrusted the examination
of the subject, and it was as follows: “Wherefore the most eminent
cardinals have arrived at this opinion: that in the philosophical
works, hitherto published by G. C. Ubaghs, and especially in his Logic
and Theodicea, doctrines or opinions are found that cannot be taught
without danger” (_inveniri doctrinas seu opiniones, quæ absque periculo
tradi non possunt_). “Which judgment our most Holy Lord Pope Pius IX.
has ratified and confirmed by his supreme authority.” Even then some
persons maintained that the decree was disciplinary and not doctrinal.
Cardinal Patrizi, however, writing in the Pope’s name to the Primate
of Belgium (if I mistake not), intimated that the dissentients must
acquiesce _ex animo_ in the judgment of the Apostolic See. Consequently
all the professors who had committed themselves to the proscribed
opinions were required to make an act of submission to the effect just
mentioned. The decree was treated as strictly doctrinal, and if so was,
I maintain, essentially different from the one we have now before us.
In the case of Galileo, it is true that the opinion given in 1616 by
the Qualifiers of the Inquisition was a doctrinal one; the action
taken upon the strength of that opinion by the Pope in desiring
Cardinal Bellarmine to admonish Galileo, as well as by the Congregation
of the Index in prohibiting certain books, was simply disciplinary.[5]
It remains for us to inquire what was the value of the decree of the
Index on certain works, written in favour of the new astronomical
doctrines, as appreciated by _contemporary_ feeling and opinion. We
naturally find that there were two views on the subject: one of those
who wished to magnify the effect of the decision, and one of those who
desired to minimise it.
Galileo himself said that his opinion had not been accepted by the
Church, which, however, had only declared that it was not in conformity
with Holy Scripture; from which it followed that only books attempting
_ex professo_ to prove that the opinion is not contrary to Scripture
were prohibited. Whether Galileo was right or wrong in his estimate of
the scope of the decree, it seems evident that he considered the whole
matter as a question merely of discipline.
It is said that Father Melchior Inchofer, S.J. (afterwards one of the
Consultors of the Holy Office), endeavoured to prove that the decision
proceeded from the Pope speaking _ex cathedrâ_. Mr. Roberts gives a
quotation to that effect from a work of Professor Berti; the original,
however, does not appear, and is probably not now extant.
Mr. Roberts also quotes Caramuel, “the acute casuist,” who, in answer
to the supposed objection that the Copernican theory might hereafter
be shown to be true, says that it is impossible that the Earth should
hereafter be proved demonstratively to be in motion; if such an
impossibility be admitted, other impossible and absurd things would
follow.
Caramuel, however great as a theologian, was evidently not endowed with
much scientific foresight. But he is not wholly wrong, for it has never
yet been possible to prove by _absolute demonstration_ the motion of
the Earth.
One of the most important witnesses on the point we are here
considering is Cardinal Bellarmine, who was a very zealous
anti-Copernican, and had probably a great share (perhaps the principal
share) in bringing about the practical condemnation of Galileo’s
opinions in 1616. So far as I know, the only explicit statement bearing
on the question that we have of Bellarmine’s, is a letter to the
Carmelite Father Foscarini, dated April 1, 1615, though he has been
quoted as if he had expressed the opinion stated in the letter at a
later date. Mr. Roberts takes exception to the inference drawn from
this letter because it was written before the decree of the Index,
and we may add, about seven months before the referring of Galileo’s
writings to the Consultors of the Inquisition.
Now we may admit that there would be some force in this argument if
Cardinal Bellarmine, instead of being what he was, had been a private
individual, having nothing to do but to listen submissively to what his
ecclesiastical superiors decided, whether in doctrine or discipline.
He was, however, one of the most trusted advisers of the Pope; he had
no small share in bringing about the censure of the Copernican theory,
such as it was; and it is almost certain that at the time when he
wrote the letter he foresaw that some proceedings of that nature would
follow, if indeed the proceedings had not already begun. We have no
sort of intimation that he ever afterwards changed his opinion, and
the way in which he was quoted by subsequent writers points to this
conclusion. I have thought it better to answer the objection made by
Mr. Roberts before stating what Bellarmine’s letter contains. I must
leave my readers to judge the value of the argument. All I say is,
that my own belief is that Cardinal Bellarmine’s opinion, as recorded
in this letter to Father Foscarini, represents his permanent judgment.
It is a most curious letter, and is a singular illustration of the
danger that a man, however able and learned, may incur by attempting to
grapple with subjects of which he knows absolutely nothing. Bellarmine,
when writing on theological or controversial subjects, though he might
make an occasional mistake, was one of the clearest, ablest, and (may
one not add?) fairest of writers; but on a subject such as this, some
of his reasoning strikes us as very curious.
The substance of it is as follows: After admitting that so long as the
Copernican doctrine is stated hypothetically, “_ex suppositione_,”
there is no objection whatever to it, he goes on to say that to
state it positively and as a reality is contrary to the principle
laid down by the Council (_i.e._ of Trent), that Scripture should
not be interpreted contrary to the common consent of the Fathers;
and, he added, not only that, but the universal opinions of modern
commentators. In answer to the objection that it is not a matter of
faith, he says: “if it is not so _ex parte objecti_, it is so _ex
parte dicentis_,” meaning apparently that a man who impugned the truth
of the Scriptural narrative in any respect would be heretical. Then
follows the paragraph which has given occasion to quote the letter,
and it is to this effect:[6] When there shall be a real demonstration
that the Sun stands in the centre of the universe, and that the Earth
revolves round it, it will then be necessary to proceed with great
consideration in explaining those passages of Scripture which seem to
be contrary to it, and rather to say that we do not understand them,
than say that a thing which is demonstrated is false. But for his own
part, until it had been shown to him, he would not believe there could
be any such demonstration, for it was one thing to prove that if the
hypothesis were true all things would appear as they actually do, and
another thing to prove that such is actually the fact; and in case of
doubt one ought not to leave the interpretation of Scripture as given
by the Fathers. Then comes what is really an extraordinary argument, as
we modern thinkers would view it. The text, “The sun arises and sets,
and returns to his own place,” was written by Solomon, who was not only
inspired by God, but was also the wisest and most learned of mankind
in human sciences, and in the knowledge of created things, and it was
not likely he could be wrong. Nor was it sufficient to say that Solomon
speaks according to appearances; for though in some cases erroneous
impressions, arising from appearances, can be corrected by observation
and experience, it is quite otherwise as regards the motion of the
Earth.
It is certainly remarkable that it does not appear to strike Bellarmine
that the Fathers and commentators, not having this question before
them, naturally interpreted Scripture according to the ideas generally
entertained in their day. While to suppose that, because Solomon wrote
certain inspired works, and, moreover, was a great naturalist--the
greatest of his day--he was, therefore, infallible in his personal
views on astronomy, shows a state of mind so different from what we
find amongst even non-scientific men in our own day, that we are
almost startled and bewildered when we meet with it. The truth,
however, is that Bellarmine was a sort of link between the mediæval
and modern thinkers; in theology and controversy, and in appreciation
of the change that had taken place in Europe owing to the religious
revolution of the preceding century, in all that, he was, I imagine, in
advance of his age; in physical science he was a simple mediævalist.
But it was not for some time that even able men came to recognise the
principle that in the search for truth, so far as the works of Nature
are concerned, the opinions of the ancients and the traditions of
forefathers count but for little; and observation and experiment are
the true and only key to knowledge. It is otherwise, of course, with
theology and kindred studies; and it required some mental grasp, or in
default of that it required a long, very long, experience before the
human mind drew the distinction between the two.
But this is a digression. I have quoted Bellarmine to show what he
thought of the necessity, from an ecclesiastical standpoint, of
putting down Copernicanism, at least until it should be proved to
demonstration. He did not appear to contemplate a dogmatic decision
against it, but what he did desire, and succeeded in obtaining, was a
disciplinary prohibition of the obnoxious doctrine. As a theologian
he well knew that such a prohibition would not be an irrevocable act;
it might be withdrawn when the conclusive proof of the forbidden
opinion should be established. He probably thought that the certain
demonstration of the opinion would only take place, as mathematicians
would say, at an infinitely distant date; nor was he wholly wrong,
as has already been remarked, for the absolute demonstration of the
Copernican doctrine is not, from the very nature of the case, a thing
to be achieved.
Yet, if he had lived at a later period, I do not doubt that he would
have been satisfied with the moral evidence, the mass of indirect
proof, on which Copernicanism rests. Many years later, the Jesuit
Father Fabri, who appears to have held the office of Canon Penitentiary
of St. Peter’s, expresses himself in much the same way as Bellarmine.
He was replying to the arguments of some Copernican correspondent,
possibly an Englishman, since his reply was inserted in the Acts of the
English Royal Society in 1665, and he says: “There is no reason why
the Church should not understand those texts in their literal sense,
and declare that they should be so understood so long as there is no
demonstration to prove the contrary. But if any such demonstration
hereafter be devised by your party (which I do not at all expect), in
that case the Church will not at all hesitate to set forth that those
texts are to be understood in an improper--_i.e._, non-literal--and
figurative sense, according to the words of the poet, ‘terræque
urbesque recedunt.’”
As a further illustration of the position thus taken by Bellarmine
and others as to the interpretation of Scripture, I may here mention
that some few years after the prohibition of Copernican works by
the Index (probably about 1623), it is said that Guidacci had an
interview with Father Grassi, at the suggestion of the Jesuit Father
Tarquinio Galluzzi, and that F. Grassi’s words were as follows: “When a
demonstration of this movement [that of the Earth] shall be discovered,
it will be fitting to interpret Scripture otherwise than has hitherto
been done: this is the opinion of Cardinal Bellarmine.” It is not
intended to deny that there were those who magnified the effect of the
decree of the Index; the devotees of Aristotle, who had gained what was
to them a great triumph, were sure to make the most of it.