Imagine that all our chairs of Astronomy had been founded in the

fourteenth century, and that their incumbents were bound to sign

Ptolemaic articles. In that case, with every respect for the efforts of

persons thus hampered to attain and expound the truth, I think men of

common sense would go elsewhere to learn astronomy.

I did not write this paragraph without a {499} knowledge that its sense

would be open to the kind of perversion which it has suffered; but, if that

was clear, the necessity for the statement was still clearer. It is my

deliberate opinion: I reiterate it; and I say that, in my judgment, it is

extremely inexpedient that any subject which calls itself a science should

be entrusted to teachers who are debarred from freely following out

scientific methods to their legitimate conclusions, whatever those

conclusions may be. If I may borrow a phrase paraded at the Church

Congress, I think it "ought to be unpleasant" for any man of science to

find himself in the position of such a teacher.

Human nature is not altered by seating it in a professorial chair, even of

theology. I have very little doubt that if, in the year 1859, the tenure of

my office had depended upon my adherence to the doctrines of Cuvier, the

objections to those set forth in the _Origin of Species_ would have had a

halo of gravity about them that, being free to teach what I pleased, I

failed to discover. And, in making that statement, it does not appear to me

that I am confessing that I should have been debarred by "selfish

interests" from making candid inquiry, or that I should have been biassed

by "sordid motives." I hope that even such a fragment of moral sense as may

remain in an ecclesiastical "infidel" might have got me through the

difficulty; but it would be unworthy to deny or disguise the fact that a

very serious difficulty must have been created for me by the nature of my

tenure. And let it be observed that {500} the temptation, in my case, would

have been far slighter than in that of a professor of theology; whatever

biological doctrine I had repudiated, nobody I cared for would have thought

the worse of me for so doing. No scientific journals would have howled me

down, as the religious newspapers howled down my too honest friend, the

late Bishop of Natal; nor would my colleagues of the Royal Society have

turned their backs upon me, as his episcopal colleagues boycotted him.

I say these facts are obvious, and that it is wholesome and needful that

they should be stated. It is in the interests of theology, if it be a

science, and it is in the interests of those teachers of theology who

desire to be something better than counsel for creeds, that it should be

taken to heart. The seeker after theological truth and that only, will no

more suppose that I have insulted him, than the prisoner who works in

fetters will try to pick a quarrel with me, if I suggest that he would get

on better if the fetters were knocked off; unless indeed, as it is said

does happen in the course of long captivities, that the victim at length

ceases to feel the weight of his chains, or even takes to hugging them, as

if they were honourable ornaments.[141]

* * * * *

{501}

XIII

THE LIGHTS OF THE CHURCH AND THE LIGHT OF SCIENCE

There are three ways of regarding any account of past occurrences, whether

delivered to us orally or recorded in writing.

The narrative may be exactly true. That is to say, the words, taken in

their natural sense, and interpreted according to the rules of grammar, may

convey to the mind of the hearer, or of the reader, an idea precisely

correspondent with one which would have remained in the mind of a witness.

For example, the statement that King Charles the First was beheaded at

Whitehall on the 30th day of January 1649, is as exactly true as any

proposition in mathematics or physics; no one doubts that any person of

sound faculties, properly placed, who was present at Whitehall throughout

that day, and who used his eyes, would have seen the King's head cut off;

and that there would have remained in his mind an idea of that occurrence

which he would have put into words of the same value as those which we use

to express it. {502}

Or the narrative may be partly true and partly false. Thus, some histories

of the time tell us what the King said, and what Bishop Juxon said; or

report royalist conspiracies to effect a rescue; or detail the motives

which induced the chiefs of the Commonwealth to resolve that the King

should die. One account declares that the King knelt at a high block,

another that he lay down with his neck on a mere plank. And there are

contemporary pictorial representations of both these modes of procedure.

Such narratives, while veracious as to the main event, may and do exhibit

various degrees of unconscious and conscious misrepresentation,

suppression, and invention, till they become hardly distinguishable from

pure fictions. Thus, they present a transition to narratives of a third

class, in which the fictitious element predominates. Here, again, there are

all imaginable gradations, from such works as Defoe's quasi-historical

account of the Plague year, which probably gives a truer conception of that

dreadful time than any authentic history, through the historical novel,

drama, and epic, to the purely phantasmal creations of imaginative genius,

such as the old _Arabian Nights_, or the modern _Shaving of Shagpat_. It is

not strictly needful for my present purpose that I should say anything

about narratives which are professedly fictitious. Yet it may be well,

perhaps, if I disclaim any intention of derogating from their value, when I

insist upon the paramount necessity of recollecting that there is no sort

of relation between the ethical, or the aesthetic, or even {503} the

scientific importance of such works, and their worth as historical

documents. Unquestionably, to the poetic artist, or even to the student of

psychology, _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_ may be better instructors than all the

books of a wilderness of professors of aesthetics or of moral philosophy.

But, as evidence of occurrences in Denmark, or in Scotland, at the times

and places indicated, they are out of court; the profoundest admiration for

them, the deepest gratitude for their influence, are consistent with the

knowledge that, historically speaking, they are worthless fables, in which

any foundation of reality that may exist is submerged beneath the

imaginative superstructure.

At present, however, I am not concerned to dwell upon the importance of

fictitious literature and the immensity of the work which it has effected

in the education of the human race. I propose to deal with the much more

limited inquiry: Are there two other classes of consecutive narratives (as

distinct from statements of individual facts), or only one? Is there any

known historical work which is throughout exactly true, or is there not? In

the case of the great majority of histories the answer is not doubtful:

they are all only partially true. Even those venerable works which bear the

names of some of the greatest of ancient Greek and Roman writers, and which

have been accepted by generation after generation, down to modern times, as

stores of unquestionable truth, have been compelled by scientific

criticism, after a long battle, to descend to the common level, and to

confess to a large admixture of error. I might {504} fairly take this for

granted; but it may be well that I should entrench myself behind the very

apposite words of a historical authority who is certainly not obnoxious to

even a suspicion of sceptical tendencies.

Time was--and that not very long ago--when all the relations of ancient

authors concerning the old world were received with a ready belief; and

an unreasoning and uncritical faith accepted with equal satisfaction

the narrative of the campaigns of Caesar and of the doings of Romulus,

the account of Alexander's marches and of the conquests of Semiramis.

We can most of us remember when, in this country, the whole story of

regal Rome, and even the legend of the Trojan settlement in Latium,

were seriously placed before boys as history, and discoursed of as

unhesitatingly and in as dogmatic a tone as the tale of the Catiline

Conspiracy or the Conquest of Britain....

But all this is now changed. The last century has seen the birth and

growth of a new science--the Science of Historical Criticism.... The

whole world of profane history has been revolutionised....[142]

If these utterances were true when they fell from the lips of a Bampton

lecturer in 1859, with how much greater force do they appeal to us now,

when the immense labours of the generation now passing away constitute one

vast illustration of the power and fruitfulness of scientific methods of

investigation in history, no less than in all other departments of

knowledge.

At the present time, I suppose, there is no one who doubts that histories

which appertain to any {505} other people than the Jews, and their

spiritual progeny in the first century, fall within the second class of the

three enumerated. Like Goethe's Autobiography, they might all be entitled

"Wahrheit und Dichtung"--"Truth and Fiction." The proportion of the two

constituents changes indefinitely; and the quality of the fiction varies

through the whole gamut of unveracity. But "Dichtung" is always there. For

the most acute and learned of historians cannot remedy the imperfections of

his sources of information; nor can the most impartial wholly escape the

influence of the "personal equation" generated by his temperament and by

his education. Therefore, from the narratives of Herodotus to those set

forth in yesterday's _Times_, all history is to be read subject to the

warning that fiction has its share therein. The modern vast development of

fugitive literature cannot be the unmitigated evil that some do vainly say

it is, since it has put an end to the popular delusion of less press-ridden

times, that what appears in print must be true. We should rather hope that

some beneficent influence may create among the erudite a like healthy

suspicion of manuscripts and inscriptions, however ancient; for a bulletin

may lie, even though it be written in cuneiform characters. Hotspur's

starling, that was to be taught to speak nothing but "Mortimer" into the

ears of King Henry the Fourth, might be a useful inmate of every

historian's library, if "Fiction" were substituted for the name of Harry

Percy's friend. {506}

But it was the chief object of the lecturer to the congregation gathered in

St. Mary's, Oxford, thirty-one years ago, to prove to them, by evidence

gathered with no little labour and marshalled with much skill, that one

group of historical works was exempt from the general rule; and that the

narratives contained in the canonical Scriptures are free from any

admixture of error. With justice and candour, the lecturer impresses upon

his hearers that the special distinction of Christianity, among the

religions of the world, lies in its claim to be historical; to be surely

founded upon events which have happened, exactly as they are declared to

have happened in its sacred books; which are true, that is, in the sense

that the statement about the execution of Charles the First is true.

Further, it is affirmed that the New Testament presupposes the historical

exactness of the Old Testament; that the points of contact of "sacred" and

"profane" history are innumerable; and that the demonstration of the

falsity of the Hebrew records, especially in regard to those narratives

which are assumed to be true in the New Testament, would be fatal to

Christian theology.

My utmost ingenuity does not enable me to discover a flaw in the argument

thus briefly summarised. I am fairly at a loss to comprehend how any one,

for a moment, can doubt that Christian theology must stand or fall with the

historical trustworthiness of the Jewish Scriptures. The very conception of

the Messiah, or Christ, is inextricably interwoven with Jewish history; the

identification {507} of Jesus of Nazareth with that Messiah rests upon the

interpretation of passages of the Hebrew Scriptures which have no

evidential value unless they possess the historical character assigned to

them. If the covenant with Abraham was not made; if circumcision and

sacrifices were not ordained by Jahveh; if the "ten words" were not written

by God's hand on the stone tables; if Abraham is more or less a mythical

hero, such as Theseus; the story of the Deluge a fiction; that of the Fall

a legend; and that of the Creation the dream of a seer; if all these

definite and detailed narratives of apparently real events have no more

value as history than have the stories of the regal period of Rome--what is

to be said about the Messianic doctrine, which is so much less clearly

enunciated? And what about the authority of the writers of the books of the

New Testament, who, on this theory, have not merely accepted flimsy

fictions for solid truths, but have built the very foundations of Christian

dogma upon legendary quicksands?

But these may be said to be merely the carpings of that carnal reason which

the profane call common sense; I hasten, therefore, to bring up the forces

of unimpeachable ecclesiastical authority in support of my position. In a

sermon preached last December, in St. Paul's Cathedral,[143] Canon Liddon

declares:--

{508}

For Christians it will be enough to know that our Lord Jesus Christ set

the seal of His infallible sanction on the whole of the Old Testament.

He found the Hebrew Canon as we have it in our hands to-day, and he

treated it as an authority which was above discussion. Nay more: He

went out of His way--if we may reverently speak thus--to sanction not a

few portions of it which modern scepticism rejects. When he would warn

His hearers against the dangers of spiritual relapse, He bids them

remember "Lot's wife."[144] When He would point out how worldly

engagements may blind the soul to a coming judgment, He reminds them

how men ate, and drank, and married, and were given in marriage, until

the day that Noah entered into the ark, and the Flood came and

destroyed them all.[145] If He would put His finger on a fact in past

Jewish history which, by its admitted reality, would warrant belief in

His own coming Resurrection, He points to Jonah's being three days and

three nights in the whale's belly (p. 23).[146]

The preacher proceeds to brush aside the common--I had almost said

vulgar--apologetic pretext that Jesus was using _ad hominem_ arguments, or

"accommodating" his better knowledge to popular ignorance, as well as to

point out the inadmissibility of the other alternative, that he shared the

popular ignorance. And to those who hold the latter view sarcasm is dealt

out with no niggard hand.

But they will find it difficult to persuade mankind that, if He could

be mistaken on a matter of such strictly religious importance as the

value of the sacred literature of His countrymen, He can be safely

trusted about anything else. The trustworthiness of the Old Testament

is, in fact, inseparable from the trustworthiness of our Lord Jesus

Christ; and if we believe that He is the true Light of the world, we

shall close our ears against suggestions impairing the credit of those

Jewish Scriptures which have received the stamp of His Divine authority

(p. 25).

{509}

Moreover, I learn from the public journals that a brilliant and sharply-cut

view of orthodoxy, of like hue and pattern, was only the other day

exhibited in that great theological kaleidoscope, the pulpit of St. Mary's,

recalling the time so long past by, when a Bampton lecturer, in the same

place, performed the unusual feat of leaving the faith of old-fashioned

Christians undisturbed.

Yet many things have happened in the intervening thirty-one years. The

Bampton lecturer of 1859 had to grapple only with the infant Hercules of

historical criticism; and he is now a full-grown athlete, bearing on his

shoulders the spoils of all the lions that have stood in his path. Surely a

martyr's courage, as well as a martyr's faith, is needed by any one who, at

this time, is prepared to stand by the following plea for the veracity of

the Pentateuch:--

Adam, according to the Hebrew original, was for 243 years contemporary

with Methuselah, who conversed for a hundred years with Shem. Shem was

for fifty years contemporary with Jacob, who probably saw Jochebed,

Moses's mother. Thus, Moses might by oral tradition have obtained the

history of Abraham, and even of the Deluge, at third hand; and that of

the Temptation and the Fall at fifth hand....

If it be granted--as it seems to be--that the great and stirring events

in a nation's life will, under ordinary circumstances, be remembered

(apart from all written memorials) for the space of 150 years, being

handed down through five generations, it must be allowed (even on mere

human grounds) that the account which Moses gives of the Temptation and

the Fall is to be depended upon, if it passed through no more than four

hands between him and Adam.[147]

{510}

If "the trustworthiness of our Lord Jesus Christ" is to stand or fall with

the belief in the sudden transmutation of the chemical components of a

woman's body into sodium chloride, or on the "admitted reality" of Jonah's

ejection, safe and sound, on the shores of the Levant, after three day's

sea-journey in the stomach of a gigantic marine animal, what possible

pretext can there be for even hinting a doubt as to the precise truth of

the longevity attributed to the Patriarchs? Who that has swallowed the

camel of Jonah's journey will be guilty of the affectation of straining at

such a historical gnat--nay midge--as the supposition that the mother of

Moses was told the story of the Flood by Jacob; who had it straight from

Shem; who was on friendly terms with Methuselah; who knew Adam quite well?

Yet, by the strange irony of things, the illustrious brother of the divine

who propounded this remarkable theory, has been the guide and foremost

worker of that band of investigators of the records of Assyria and of

Babylonia, who have opened to our view, not merely a new chapter, but a new

volume of primeval history, relating to the very people who have the most

numerous points of contact with the life of the ancient Hebrews. Now,

whatever imperfections may yet obscure the full value of the Mesopotamian

records, everything that has been clearly ascertained tends to the

conclusion that the assignment of no more than 4000 years to the period

between the time of the origin of mankind and that of Augustus Caesar, is

wholly inadmissible. Therefore the Biblical {511} chronology, which Canon

Rawlinson trusted so implicitly in 1859, is relegated by all serious

critics to the domain of fable.

But if scientific method, operating in the region of history, of philology,

of archaeology, in the course of the last thirty or forty years, has become

thus formidable to the theological dogmatist, what may not be said about

scientific method working in the province of physical science? For, if it

be true that the Canonical Scriptures have innumerable points of contact

with civil history, it is no less true that they have almost as many with

natural history; and their accuracy is put to the test as severely by the

latter as by the former. The origin of the present state of the heavens and

the earth is a problem which lies strictly within the province of physical

science; so is that of the origin of man among living things; so is that of

the physical changes which the earth has undergone since the origin of man;

so is that of the origin of the various races and nations of men, with all

their varieties of language and physical conformation. Whether the earth

moves round the sun or the contrary; whether the bodily and mental diseases

of men and animals are caused by evil spirits or not; whether there is such

an agency as witchcraft or not--all these are purely scientific questions;

and to all of them the canonical Scriptures profess to give true answers.

And though nothing is more common than the assumption that these books come

into conflict only with the speculative part of modern physical science, no

assumption can have less foundation. {512}

The antagonism between natural knowledge and the Pentateuch would be as

great if the speculations of our time had never been heard of. It arises

out of contradiction upon matters of fact. The books of ecclesiastical

authority declare that certain events happened in a certain fashion; the

books of scientific authority say they did not. As it seems that this

unquestionable truth has not yet penetrated among many of those who speak

and write on these subjects, it may be useful to give a full illustration

of it. And for that purpose I propose to deal, at some length, with the

narrative of the Noachian Deluge given in Genesis.

The Bampton lecturer in 1859, and the Canon of St. Paul's in 1890, are in

full agreement that this history is true, in the sense in which I have

defined historical truth. The former is of opinion that the account

attributed to Berosus records a tradition--

not drawn from the Hebrew record, much less the foundation of that

record; yet coinciding with it in the most remarkable way. The

Babylonian version is tricked out with a few extravagances, as the

monstrous size of the vessel and the translation of Xisuthros; but

otherwise it is the Hebrew history _down to its minutiae_ (p. 64).

Moreover, correcting Niebuhr, the Bampton lecturer points out that the

narrative of Berosus implies the universality of the Flood.

It is plain that the waters are represented as prevailing above the

tops of the loftiest mountains in Armenia--a height which must have

been seen to involve the submersion of all the countries with which the

Babylonians were acquainted (p. 66).

{513}

I may remark, in passing, that many people think the size of Noah's ark

"monstrous," considering the probable state of the art of shipbuilding only

1600 years after the origin of man; while others are so unreasonable as to

inquire why the translation of Enoch is less an "extravagance" than that of

Xisuthros. It is more important, however, to note that the universality of

the Deluge is recognised, not merely as a part of the story, but as a

necessary consequence of some of its details. The latest exponent of

Anglican orthodoxy, as we have seen, insists upon the accuracy of the

Pentateuchal history of the Flood in a still more forcible manner. It is

cited as one of those very narratives to which the authority of the Founder

of Christianity is pledged, and upon the accuracy of which "the

trustworthiness of our Lord Jesus Christ" is staked, just as others have

staked it upon the truth of the histories of demoniac possession in the

Gospels.

Now, when those who put their trust in scientific methods of ascertaining

the truth in the province of natural history find themselves confronted and

opposed, on their own ground, by ecclesiastical pretensions to better

knowledge, it is, undoubtedly, most desirable for them to make sure that

their conclusions, whatever they may be, are well founded. And, if they put

aside the unauthorised interference with their business and relegate the

Pentateuchal history to the region of pure fiction, they are bound to

assure themselves that they do so because the plainest teachings of Nature

(apart from all doubtful {514} speculations) are irreconcilable with the

assertions which they reject.

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