The Lights of the Church and the Light of Science | Page 9

his generally orthodox tone, that he does not dissent
from its conclusions. Again, the writers in Herzog's
"Real-Encyclopadie" (Bd. X. 1882) and in Riehm's "Handworterbuch"

(1884)--both works with a conservative leaning--are on the same side;
and Diestel,<8> in his full discussion of the subject, remorselessly
rejects the universality doctrine. Even that staunch opponent of
scientific rationalism--may I say rationality?--Zockler<9> flinches from
a distinct defence of the thesis, any opposition to which, well within my
recollection, was howled down by the orthodox as mere "infidelity."
All that, in his sore straits, Dr. Zockler is able to do, is to pronounce a
faint commendation upon a particularly absurd attempt at reconciliation,
which would make out the Noachian Deluge to be a catastrophe which
occurred at the end of the Glacial Epoch. This hypothesis involves only
the trifle of a physical revolution of which geology knows nothing; and
which, if it secured the accuracy of the Pentateuchal writer about the
fact of the Deluge, would leave the details of his account as
irreconcilable with the truths of elementary physical science as ever.
Thus I may be permitted to spare myself and my readers the weariness
of a recapitulation of the overwhelming arguments against the
universality of the Deluge, which they will now find for themselves
stated, as fully and forcibly as could be wished, by Anglican and other
theologians, whose orthodoxy and conservative tendencies have,
hitherto, been above suspicion. Yet many fully admit (and, indeed,
nothing can be plainer) that, as a matter of fact, the whole earth known
to him was inundated; nor is it less obvious that unless all mankind,
with the exception of Noah and his family, were actually destroyed, the
references to the Flood in the New Testament are unintelligible.
But I am quite aware that the strength of the demonstration that no
universal Deluge ever took place has produced a change of front in the
army of apologetic writers. They have imagined that the substitution of
the adjective "partial" for "universal," will save the credit of the
Pentateuch, and permit them, after all, without too many blushes, to
declare that the progress of modern science only strengthens the
authority of Moses. Nowhere have I found the case of the advocates of
this method of escaping from the difficulties of the actual position
better put than in the lecture of Professor Diestel to which I have
referred. After frankly admitting that the old doctrine of universality
involves physical impossibilities, he continues:--
All these difficulties fall away as soon as we give up the
universality of the Deluge, and imagine a partial flooding of the

earth, say in western Asia. But have we a right to do so? The narrative
speaks of "the whole earth." But what is the meaning of this expression?
Surely not the whole surface of the earth according to the ideas of
modern geographers, but, at most, according to the conceptions
of the Biblical author. This very simple conclusion, however, is never
drawn by too many readers of the Bible. But one need only cast one's
eyes over the tenth chapter of Genesis in order to become acquainted
with the geographical horizon of the Jews. In the north it was bounded
by the Black Sea and the mountains of Armenia; extended towards the
east very little beyond the Tigris; hardly reached the apex of the Persian
Gulf; passed, then, through the middle of Arabia and the Red Sea; went
southward through Abyssinia, and then turned westward by the
frontiers of Egypt, and inclosed the easternmost islands of the
Mediterranean (p. 11).
The justice of this observation must be admitted, no less than the
further remark that, in still earlier times, the pastoral Hebrews very
probably had yet more restricted notions of what constituted the "whole
earth." Moreover, I, for one, fully agree with Professor Diestel that the
motive, or generative incident, of the whole story is to be sought in the
occasionally excessive and desolating floods of the Euphrates and the
Tigris.
Let us, provisionally, accept the theory of a partial deluge, and try to
form a clear mental picture of the occurrence. Let us suppose that, for
forty days and forty nights, such a vast quantity of water was poured
upon the ground that the whole surface of Mesopotamia was covered
by water to a depth certainly greater, probably much greater, than
fifteen cubits, or twenty feet (Gen. vii. 20). The inundation prevails
upon the earth for one hundred and fifty days and then the flood
gradually decreases, until, on the seventeenth day of the seventh month,
the ark, which had previously floated on its surface, grounds upon the
"mountains of Ararat"<10> (Gen. viii. 34). Then, as Diestel has acutely
pointed out ("Sintflut," p. 13), we are to imagine the further subsidence
of the