1. The Material of which it was built. The Mosaic account says expressly that it was built of gopher-wood; but it has never been satisfactorily determined what wood is meant by the term "gopher." Numerous interpretations have been placed upon it: by one authority it is rendered "timber squared by the workman;" by another, "timber made from trees which shoot out quadrangular branches in the same horizontal line," such as cedar and fir; by another, "smoothed or planed timber;" by another, "wood that does not readily decay," such as boxwood or cedar; by another, "the wood of such trees as abound with resinous, inflammable juices," as the cedar, fir, cypress, pine, &c. That the ark was built of cedar would seem to be probable, from the fact that this wood corresponds more than any other with the numerous significations given to the term "gopher," as it is quadrangular in its branches, durable, almost incorruptible, resinous, and highly inflammable; from the fact, too, that it is abundant in Asia, and known to have been employed by the Assyrians and Egyptians in the construction of ships. One or two authorities, however, maintain that the ark was made of the wood of the cypress, their grounds being that the cypress was considered by the ancients the most durable wood against rot and worms; that it abounded in Assyria, where the ark was probably built; and that it was frequently employed in the construction of ships, especially by Alexander, who built a whole fleet from the cypress groves in the neighborhood of Babylon.
2. Its Capacity and Dimensions. The proportions of the ark, as given in the sacred volume, have been examined and compared with the greatest precision by the most learned and accurate calculators; and, assuming the cubit to have been of the value of eighteen inches of the present day, it follows that the ark was four hundred and fifty feet long, by seventy-five wide, by forty-five high. From these data its burden has been deduced, and is now understood to have been forty-two thousand four hundred and thirteen tons. Such a construction would have allowed ample room for the eight persons who were to inhabit it,—Noah and his wife, Shem, Ham, and Japheth, and their wives,—about two hundred and fifty pair of four-footed beasts, the fowls of the air, such reptiles and insects as could not live under water, together with the food necessary for their subsistence for a twelvemonth. It has been doubted whether Noah took with him into the ark specimens of all living creatures. It is reasonable to suppose that, as the world was nearly seventeen centuries old, the animal creation had spread itself over a large portion of the antediluvian earth, and that certain species had consequently become indigenous in certain climates. It is therefore probable that many species were not to be found in the country where Noah dwelt and where he built the ark. We are not told in the Bible that any kind of animals were brought from a distance,—a fact which renders it probable that Noah only saved pairs of the species which had become natives of the territory which he inhabited. This would be to suppose that many species perished in the flood and were consequently never renewed,—a supposition which derives strong support from the numerous discoveries made in modern times of the exuviæ of animals which no longer exist, and whose destruction is attributed to the Deluge. A list of such extinct species was drawn up by Cuvier.
The presumptive evidence which may be adduced in support of the scriptural history of the preparation of the ark is very strong; it is, indeed, the only solution of an otherwise insuperable difficulty. The early records of the whole Gentile world, as has been stated, concur in declaring the fact of a universal deluge; and yet the human race and all the more useful and important species of animals survived it. Now, the people of those times had no ships and were totally unacquainted with navigation: it is evident, therefore, that they were not saved by vessels in ordinary use. Even though we were to suppose them possessed of shipping, it is impossible to believe that they would or could have provisioned them for a year's cruise, unless we suppose them to have been forewarned precisely as Moses relates; and it is certainly as easy to believe the whole of the Bible narrative as a portion. Such a structure as the ark, for the preservation and sustenance of the human race and of the animal kingdom, seems, then, to have been absolutely indispensable.
3. Its Form. From the dimensions given in the sixth chapter of Genesis, it is evident that the ark had the shape of an oblong square, with a sloping roof and a flat bottom; that it was furnished with neither helm, mast, nor oars; that it was intended to lie upon the water without rolling, and formed to float rather than to sail. Its proportions, it has been remarked, nearly agree with those of the human figure,—three hundred cubits in length being six times its breadth, fifty cubits, and the average length of the human frame being to its width as six is to one. Now, the body of a man lying in the water flat on his back will float with little or no exertion. It would appear, therefore, that similar proportions would suit a vessel whose purpose was floating only. It is not necessary to suppose that the ark had to contend with either storm or wind. The waves of water lying to the depth of a few fathoms upon a submerged continent could not, at any rate, be compared in violence to those of the ocean. The gathering of the flood lasted but forty days, and although the ark floated for a year, nearly eleven months were occupied in the subsidence of the water. It is probable that the ark was gradually and slowly surrounded by the advancing tide, was quietly lifted up upon its surface, that it hovered about the spot where it was constructed, and finally, upon the disappearance of the water, settled as quietly back upon its broad basis and projecting supports.
It is a curious fact that many minds which have refused to accept the evidences of a communication between God and man in the instances of Moses and of our Savior, admit the strong probability of a communication having passed from God to Noah. The chain of argument is indeed exceedingly strong. Mr. Taylor thus seeks to establish the fact that the Deity did, in the case of Noah, condescend to make known his intentions to man. "Was the Deluge," he asks, "a real occurrence? All mankind acknowledge it. Wherever tradition has been maintained, wherever written records are preserved, wherever commemorative rites have been instituted, what has been their subject? The Deluge:—deliverance from destruction by a flood. The savage and the sage agree in this: North and South, East and West, relate the danger of their great ancestor from overwhelming waters. But he was saved: and how? By personal exertion? By long-continued swimming? By concealment in the highest mountains? No: but by enclosure in a large floating edifice of his own construction. But this labor was long: it was not the work of a day: he must have foreseen so astonishing an event a considerable time previous to its actual occurrence. Whence did he receive this foreknowledge? Did the earth inform him that at twenty, thirty, forty years' distance it would disgorge a flood? Surely not. Did the stars announce that they would dissolve the terrestrial atmosphere in terrific rains? Surely not. Whence, then, had Noah his foreknowledge? Did he begin to build when the first showers descended? It was too late. Had he been accustomed to rains, formerly? Why think them now of importance? Had he never seen rain? What could induce him to provide against it? Why this year more than last year? Why last year more than the year before? These inquiries are direct: we cannot flinch from the fact. Erase it from the Mosaic records, still it is recorded in Greece, in Egypt, in India, in Britain; it is registered in the very sacra of the pagan world. Go, infidel, take your choice of difficulties: either disparage all mankind as fools, as willing dupes to superstitious commemoration, or allow that this fact, this one fact, is established by testimony abundantly sufficient; but remember that if it be established, it implies a communication from God to man. Who could inform Noah? Why did not that great patriarch provide against fire? against earthquakes? against explosions? Why against water? why against a deluge? Away with subterfuge! confess frankly it was the dictation of Deity. Say that He only who made the world could predict the time and causes of this devastation, that He only could excite the hope of restoration, or suggest a method of deliverance."
It is a remarkable fact, and one which goes far to support the argument often urged to combat the opinions of atheists, that the ark could not have been built by man, unassisted by the divine intelligence, at that age of the world,—that the ark, the first and largest ship ever built, had precisely the same proportions as the ocean steamers of our own day. Its dimensions were, as we have said, three hundred cubits, by fifty, by thirty. Those of several of the fleetest Atlantic mail steamers are three hundred feet in length, fifty feet in breadth of beam, and twenty-eight and a half in depth. They have, like the ark, upper, lower, and middle stories. It is, to say the least, singular, that the ship-builders of the present day, neglecting the experience acquired by man from forty-two centuries spent more or less upon the sea, should so directly and unreservedly return to the model of the vessel constructed to outride the Flood. It was therefore with obvious propriety that, at one of the late convivial meetings in England during the preparations for laying the telegraphic cable, after due honor had been paid to the celebrities of the occasion and the moment, after the health of the Queen and the memory of Columbus had been pledged and drunk, a toast was offered to our great ancestor Noah. Though the proposition was received with hilarity and the idea seemed to savor somewhat of a jest, yet the patriarch's claims, as the first admiral on record, to being the father of seamen and the great originator of navigation, were willingly and vociferously acknowledged. After this recognition—which must, from the circumstances, be regarded as in some measure official and conclusive—we could not consistently have ventured to withhold from him the first place in this record of the triumphs of thirty centuries.
NOCTILUCA VILIARIS.