“But he’s not a defence lawyer,” Xavier murmured. “You must remember this isn’t a civil courtroom. In this case the defendant happens to have a general idea of the charges she’s to face, as a living representative of Darwin’s family - the only one who would come forward, incidentally; I think her presence was an initiative of young Fairweather. But she’s not entitled to know those charges or the evidence, nor to know who brought them.”
“That doesn’t seem just.”
“But this is not justice in that sense. This is the working-out of God’s will, as focused through the infallibility of the Holy Father and the wisdom of his officers.”
The proceedings opened with a rap of Jones’s gavel. A clerk on the examiners’ bench began to scribble a verbatim record. Jones instructed the principals present to identify themselves. Alongside him on the bench were other Commissaries, and a Prosecutor of the Holy Office.
When it was her turn, Mary stood to introduce herself as a Lector of Cooktown University, here to observe and advise in her expert capacity. Boniface actually smiled at her. He had a face as long and grey as the Reverend Darwin’s coffin, and the skin under his eyes was velvet black.
A Bible was brought to Alicia, and she read Latin phrases from a card.
“I have no Latin,” Mary whispered to Xavier. “She’s swearing an oath to tell the truth, right?”
“Yes. I’ll translate . . .”
Boniface picked up a paper, and began to work his way through his questions, in Latin that sounded like gravel falling into a bucket. Xavier whispered his translation: “By what means and how long ago she came to London.”
Mercifully the girl answered in English, with a crisp Scottish accent. “By train and carriage from my mother’s home in Edinburgh. Which has been the family home since the Reverend Charles Darwin’s time.”
“Whether she knows or can guess the reason she was ordered to present herself to the Holy Office.”
“Well, I think I know.” She glanced at the coffin. “To stand behind the remains of my uncle, while a book he published 150 years ago is considered for its heresy.”
“That she name this book.”
“It was called A Dialogue on the Origin of Species by Natural Selection.”
“That she explain the character of this book.”
“Well, I’ve never read it. I don’t know anybody who has. It was put on the Index even before it was published. I’ve only read second-hand accounts of its contents ... It concerns an hypothesis concerning the variety of animal and vegetable forms we see around us. Why are some so alike, such as varieties of cat or bird? My uncle drew analogies with the well-known modification of forms of dogs, pigeons, peas and beans and other domesticated creatures under the pressure of selection for various desirable properties by mankind. He proposed - no, he proposed an hypothesis - that natural variations in living things could be caused by another kind of selection, unconsciously applied by nature as species competed for limited resources, for water and food. This selection, given time, would shape living things as surely as the conscious manipulation of human trainers.”
“Whether she believes this hypothesis to hold truth.”
“I’m no natural philosopher. I want to be an artist. A painter, actually—”
“Whether she believes this hypothesis to hold truth.”
The girl bowed her head. “It is contrary to the teachings of Scripture.”
“Whether the Reverend Charles Darwin believed the hypothesis to hold truth.”
She seemed rattled. “Maybe you should open the box and ask him yersel’ ...” Her lawyer, Anselm Fairweather, touched her arm. “I apologise, Father. He stated it as an hypothesis, an organizing principle, much as Galileo Galilei set out the motion of the Earth around the sun as an hypothesis only. Natural selection would explain certain observed patterns in nature. No doubt the truth of God’s holy design lies beneath these observed patterns, but is not yet apprehended by our poor minds. Charles set this out clearly in his book, which he presented as a dialogue between a proponent of the hypothesis and a sceptic.”
“Whether she feels the heresy is properly denied in the course of this dialogue.”
“That’s for you to judge. I mean, his intention was balance, and if that was not achieved, it is only through the poor artistry of my uncle, who was a philosopher before he was a writer, and—”
“Whether she is aware of the injunction placed on Charles Darwin on first publication of this book.”
“That he destroy the published edition, and replace it with a revision more clearly emphasizing the hypothetical nature of his argument.”
“Whether she is aware of his compliance with this injunction.”
“I’m not aware of any second edition. He fled to Edinburgh, whose Royal Society heard him state his hypothesis, and received his further work in the form of transactions in its journal.”
Xavier murmured to Mary, “Those Scottish Presbyterians. Nothing but trouble.”
“Whether she approves of his departure from England, as assisted by the heretical criminals known as the Lyncean Academy.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Whether she approves of his refusal to appear before a properly appointed court of the Holy Office.”
“I don’t know about that either.”
“Whether she approves of his non-compliance with the holy injunction. “
“As I understand it he felt his book was balanced, therefore it wasn’t heretical as it stood, and therefore the injunction was not applicable ...”
So the hearing went on. The questioning seemed to have nothing to do with Darwin’s philosophical case, which after all was the reason for Mary’s presence here, but was more a relentless badgering of Alicia Darwin over the intentions and beliefs of her remote uncle - questions she couldn’t possibly answer save in terms of her own interpretation, a line Alicia bravely stuck to.
To Mary, the trial began to seem a shabby epilogue to Darwin’s own story. He had been a bright young cleric, with vague plans to become a Jesuit, who had signed on to a ship of discovery, the Beagle, in the year 1831: the English never assembled an empire, but they remained explorers. On board he had come under the influence of the work of some of the bright, radical thinkers from Presbyterian Edinburgh - the “Scottish Enlightenment”, as the historians called it. And in the course of his travels Darwin saw for himself islands being created and destroyed, and island-bound species of cormorants and iguanas that seemed obviously in flux between one form and another . . . Far from the anchoring certainties of the Church, it was no wonder he had come home with a head full of a vision that had obsessed him for the rest of his life - but it was a vision fraught with danger.
All this was a long time ago, the voyage of the Beagle nearly 200 years past. But the Church thought in centuries, and was now exacting its revenge.
Alicia had volunteered to participate in this trial as an honour to her uncle, just as Mary had. Mary had imagined it would all be something of a formality. Yet the girl seemed slim, frail, defenceless standing there before the threatening row of theocrats before her - men who, Mary reminded herself uneasily, literally had the power of life and death over Alicia. Once, during the course of the questioning, Alicia glanced over at Mary, one of the few women in the room. Mary deliberately smiled back. No, I don’t know what the hell we’ve got ourselves into here either, kid.
At last it ended for the day. Alicia had to glance over and sign the clerk’s handwritten transcript of the session. She was ordered not to leave without special permission, and sworn to silence. She looked shocked when she was led away to a cell, somewhere in the crypt warren.
Mary stood. “She wasn’t expecting that.”
Xavier murmured, “Don’t worry. It’s just routine. She’s not a prisoner.”
“It looked like it to me.”
“Darwin will be found guilty of defying that long-ago injunction, of course. But Alicia will be asked only to abjure
her uncle’s actions, and to condemn the book. A slap on the wrist—”
“I don’t care right now. I just want to get out of this place. Can we go?”
“Once the Reverend Fathers have progressed . . .” He bowed as Boniface Jones and the others walked past, stately as sailing ships in their black robes.
* * * *
Mary got a good turn-out for her sermon in the cathedral the next day.
She’d titled it “Galileo, Einstein and the Mystery of Transubstantiation” - a provocative theme that had seemed a good idea from the other side of the world. Now, standing at the pulpit of St Paul’s itself, dwarfed by the stonework around her and facing rows of calm, black-robed, supremely powerful men, she wasn’t so sure.
There in the front row, however, was Anselm Fairweather, Alicia Darwin’s lawyer. He looked bright, with an engaging, youthful sort of curiosity that she felt she’d seen too little of in England. Xavier Brazel sat beside him, faintly sinister as usual, but relatively sane, and relatively reassuring.
For better or worse, she was stuck with her prepared text. “I’m well aware that to most churchmen and perhaps the lay public the philosophical career of Galileo, in astronomy, dynamics and other subjects, is of most interest for the period leading up to his summons to Rome in 1633 to face charges of heresy concerning his work regarding the hypothetical motion of the Earth - charges which, of course, were never in the end brought. But to a historian of natural philosophy such as myself it is the legacy of the man’s work after Rome that is the most compelling...”
Nobody was quite sure what had been said to Galileo, by Pope Urban himself among others, in the theocratic snake-pit that was seventeenth-century Rome. Some said the Tuscan ambassador, who was hosting Galileo in Rome, had somehow intervened to soothe ruffled papal feathers. Galileo had not faced the humiliation of an Inquisition trial over his Copernican views, or, worse, sanctions afterwards. Instead, the increasingly frail, increasingly lonely old man had returned home to Tuscany. In his final years he turned away from the astronomical studies that had caused him so much trouble, and concentrated instead on “hypotheses” about dynamics, the physics of moving objects. This had been an obsession since, as a young man, he had noticed patterns in the pendulum-like swinging of church chandeliers.
“And in doing so, even so late in life, Galileo came to some remarkable and far-reaching conclusions.”
Galileo’s later work had run ahead of the mathematical techniques of the time, and to be fully appreciated had had to be reinterpreted by later generations of mathematicians, notably Leibniz. Essentially Galileo had built on common-sense observations of everyday motion to build a theory that was now known as “relativity”, in which objects moved so that their combined velocities never exceeded a certain “speed of finality”. All this properly required framing in a four-dimensional spacetime. And buried in Galileo’s work was the remarkable implication - or, as she carefully said, an “hypothesis” - that the whole of the universe was expanding into four-dimensional space.
These “hypotheses” had received confirmation in later centuries. James Clerk Maxwell, developing his ideas about electromagnetism in the comparatively intellectually free environment of Presbyterian Edinburgh, had proved that Galileo’s “speed of finality” was in fact the speed of light.
“And later in the nineteenth century, astronomers in our Terra Australis observatories, measuring the Doppler shift of light from distant nebulae, were able to show that the universe does indeed appear to be expanding all around us, just as predicted from Galileo’s work.” She didn’t add that the southern observatories, mostly manned by Aboriginal astronomers, had also long before proved from the parallax of the stars that the motion of the Earth around the sun was real, just as Galileo had clearly believed.
Finally she came to transubstantiation. “In the thirteenth century Thomas Aquinas justified the mystery of the Eucharist - how a communion host can simultaneously be a piece of bread and the flesh of Christ - using Aristotle’s physics. The host has the outer form of bread but the inner substance of Christ. It’s now more than a century since the Blessed Albert Einstein, then a mere clerk, showed that the transformation of bread to flesh could be described by means of a four-dimensional Galilean rotation, invisible to our senses. And I believe that a Vatican committee is considering accepting this interpretation as orthodoxy, a second Scholasticism. But all this stems from Galileo’s insights ...”
She had often wondered, she concluded, if Galileo’s attention had not been focused on his dynamics work by his brush with the authorities - or, worse, if he had been left exhausted or had his life curtailed by their trial and sentencing - perhaps the discovery of relativity might have been delayed centuries.
She was greeted by nods and smiles, from churchmen accepting as justification for their central mystery the wisdom of a man they had come close to persecuting, four centuries dead.
At the end of the Mass Xavier and Anselm Fairweather approached her. “We could hardly clap,” Xavier said. “Not in church. But your sermon was much appreciated, Lector Mason.”
“Well, thank you.”
Anselm said, “Points in your talk sparked my interest, Lector. Have you ever heard of the Lyncean Academy? Named for the lynx, the sharpest-eyed big cat. It was a group of free-thinking scholars, founded in Galileo’s time to combat the Church’s authority in philosophy. It published Galileo’s later books. After Galileo it went underground, but supported later thinkers. It defended Newton at his excommunication trial, and protected Fontenelle, and later helped Darwin flee to Scotland...”
She glanced at the churchmen filing out ahead of her. Xavier’s impassive face carried an unstated warning. “Is there something you want to tell me, Mr Fairweather?”
“Look, could we speak privately?”
* * * *
Once out of the cathedral, she let Anselm lead her away. Xavier clearly did not want to hear whatever conversation Anselm proposed to have.
They walked down Blackfriars to the river, and then west along the Embankment. Under grimy iron bridges the Thames was crowded with small steam-driven vessels. The London skyline, where she could see it, was low and flat, a lumpy blanket of poor housing spread like a blanket over the city’s low hills, pierced here and there by the slim spire of a Wren church. The city far dwarfed Cooktown, but it lay as if rotting under a blanket of smoky fog. In the streets there seemed to be children everywhere, swarming in this Catholic country, bare-footed, soot-streaked and ragged. She wondered how many of them got any schooling - and how many of them had access to the medicines shipped over from the Pasteur clinics in Terra Australis to the disease-ridden cities of Europe.
As they walked along the Embankment she addressed the issue directly. “So, Anselm, are you a member of this Lyncean Academy?”
He laughed. “You saw through me.”
“You’re not exactly subtle.”
“No. Well, I apologise. But there’s no time left for subtlety.”
“What’s so urgent?”
“The Darwin trial must have the right outcome. I want to make sure I have you on my side. For we intend to use the trial to reverse a mistake the Church never made.”
She shook her head. “A mistake never made . . . You’ve lost me. And I’m not on anybody’s side.”
“Look - the Academy doesn’t question the Church about morality and ethics, the domain of God. It’s the Church’s meddling in free thought that we object to. Human minds have been locked in systems of thought imposed by the Church for two millennia. Christianity was imposed across the Roman empire. Then Aquinas imposed the philosophy of Aristotle, his four elements, his cosmologies of crystal spheres - which is still the official doctrine, no matter how much the observations of our own eyes, of the instruments you’ve developed in Terra Australis, disprove every word he wrote! We take our motto from a saying of Galileo himself. ‘I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason and intellect -’ “
“‘ - has intended us to forgo their use.’ I don’t see what this has to do with the trial.”
“It is an echo of the trial of Galileo - which the Church abandoned! Galileo was taken to a prison, given a good fright about torture and the stake, he agreed to say whatever they wanted him to say - but he was not put on trial.”
She started to see. “But what if he had been?”
He nodded eagerly. “You get the point. A few decades earlier the Church persecuted Giordano Bruno, another philosopher, for his supposed heresies. They burned him. But nobody knew who Bruno was. Galileo was famous across Europe! If they had burned him - even if they had put him through the public humiliation of a trial - it would have caused outrage, especially in the Protestant countries, England, the Netherlands, the German states. The Church’s moral authority would have been rejected there, and weakened even in the Catholic countries.
The Mammoth Book of Alternate Histories [Anthology] Page 66
