“They seem”—(he says, speaking of the Revisionists of 1611)—“to have been guided by the feeling that their Version would secure for the words they used a lasting place in the language; and they express a fear lest they should‘be charged (by scoffers) with some unequal dealing towards a great number of good English words,’which, without this liberty on their part, would not have a place in the pages of the English Bible. Still it cannot be doubted that their studied avoidance of uniformity in the rendering of the same words, even when occurring in the same context, is one of the blemishes in their work.”—Preface, (i. 2).Yes, it cannot be doubted. When S. Paul, in a long and familiar passage (2 Cor. i. 3-7), is observed studiously to[pg 190]linger over the same word (παράκλησις namely, which is generally rendered“comfort”);—to harp upon it;—to reproduce itten timesin the course of those five verses;—it seems unreasonable that a Translator, as if in defiance of the Apostle, should on four occasions (viz. when the word comes back for the 6th, 7th, 9th, and 10th times), for“comfort”substitute“consolation.”And this one example may serve as well as a hundred. It would really seem as if the Revisionists of 1611 had considered it a graceful achievement to vary the English phrase even on occasions where a marked identity of expression characterizes the original Greek. When we find them turning“goodly apparel,”(in S. James ii. 2,) into“gay clothing,”(in ver. 3,)—we can but conjecture that they conceived themselves at liberty to act exactly as S. James himself would (possibly) have acted had he been writing English.But if the learned men who gave us our A. V. may be thought to have erred on the side of excess, there can be no doubt whatever, (at least among competent judges,) that our Revisionists have sinned far more grievously and with greater injury to the Deposit, by their slavish proclivity to the opposite form of error. We must needs speak out plainly: for the question before us is not, What defects are discoverable in our Authorized Version?—but, What amount of gain would be likely to accrue to the Church if the present Revision were accepted as a substitute? And we assert without hesitation, that the amount of certain loss would so largely outweigh the amount of possible gain, that the proposal may not be seriously entertained for a moment. As well on grounds of Scholarship and Taste, as of Textual Criticism (as explained at large in our former Article), the work before us is immensely inferior. To speak plainly, it is an utter failure.[pg 191]XI. For the respected Authors of it practically deny the truth of the principle enunciated by their predecessors of 1611, viz. that“there be some words that be not of the same sense everywhere.”On such a fundamental truism we are ashamed to enlarge: but it becomes necessary that we should do so. We proceed to illustrate, by two familiar instances,—the first which come to hand,—the mischievous result which is inevitable to an enforced uniformity of rendering.(a) The verb αἰτεῖν confessedly means“to ask.”And perhaps no better general English equivalent could be suggested for it. But then,in a certain context,“ask”would be an inadequate rendering: in another, it would be improper: in a third, it would be simply intolerable. Of all this, the great Scholars of 1611 showed themselves profoundly conscious. Accordingly, when this same verb (in the middle voice) is employed to describe how the clamorous rabble, besieging Pilate, claimed their accustomed privilege, (viz. to have the prisoner of their choice released unto them,) those ancient men, with a fine instinct, retain Tyndale's rendering“desired”569in S. Mark (xv. 8),—and his“required”in S. Luke (xxiii. 23).—When, however, the humble entreaty, which Joseph of Arimathea addressed to the same Pilate (viz. that he might be allowed to take away the Body ofJesus), is in question, then the same Scholars (following Tyndale and Cranmer), with the same propriety exhibit“begged.”—King David, inasmuch as he only“desiredto find a habitation for theGodof Jacob,”of course may not be said to have“asked”to do so; and yet S. Stephen (Acts vii. 46) does not hesitate to employ the verb ᾐτήσατο.—So again, when they of Tyre and Sidon approached Herod whom they had offended: they[pg 192]did but“desire”peace.570—S. Paul, in like manner, addressing the Ephesians:“Idesirethat ye faint not at my tribulations for you.”571But our Revisionists,—possessed with the single idea that αἰτεῖν means“toask”and αἰτεῖσθαι“toask for,”—have proceeded mechanically to inflict that rendering on every one of the foregoing passages. In defiance of propriety,—of reason,—even (in David's case) of historical truth,572—they have thrust in“asked”everywhere. At last, however, they are encountered by two places which absolutely refuse to submit to such iron bondage. The terror-stricken jailer of Philippi, whenhe“asked”for lights, must needs have done so after a truly imperious fashion. Accordingly, the“called for”573of Tyndale and all subsequent translators, ispro hâc viceallowed by our Revisionists to stand. And to conclude,—When S. Paul, speaking of his supplications on behalf of the Christians at Colosse, uses this same verb (αἰτούμενοι) in a context where“to ask”would be intolerable, our Revisionists render the word“to make request;”574—though they might just as well have let alone the rendering ofalltheir predecessors,—viz.“to desire.”These are many words, but we know not how to make them fewer. Let this one example, (only because it is the first which presented itself,) stand for a thousand others. Apart from the grievous lack of Taste (not to say of Scholarship) which such a method betrays,—whosees not that the only excuse which could have been invented for it has[pg 193]disappeared by the time we reach the end of our investigation? If αἰτέω, αἰτοῦμαι had beeninvariablytranslated“ask,”“ask for,”it might at least have been pretended that“the English Reader is in this way put entirely on a level with the Greek Scholar;”—though it would have been a vain pretence, as all must admit who understand the power of language.Oncemake it apparent that just in a single place, perhaps in two, the Translator found himself forced to break through his rigid uniformity of rendering,—andwhatremains but an uneasy suspicion that then there must have been a strain put on the Evangelists' meaning in a vast proportion of the other seventy places where αἰτεῖν occurs? An unlearned reader's confidence in his guide vanishes; and he finds that he has had not a few deflections from the Authorized Version thrust upon him, of which he reasonably questions alike the taste and the necessity,—e.g.at S. Matth. xx. 20.(b) But take a more interesting example. In S. Mark i. 18, the A. V. has,“and straightway theyforsook”(which the Revisionists alter into“left”)“their nets.”Why? Because in verse 20, the same word ἀφέντες will recur; and because the Revisionists propose to let the statement (“theylefttheir father Zebedee”) stand. They“level up”accordingly; and plume themselves on their consistency.We venture to point out, however, that the verb ἀφιέναι is one of a large family of verbs which,—always retaining their own essential signification,—yet depend for their English rendering entirely on the context in which they occur. Thus, ἀφιέναι is rightly rendered“to suffer,”in S. Matth. iii. 15;—“to leave,”in iv. 11;—“to let have,”in v. 40;—“to forgive,”in vi. 12, 14, 15;—“to let,”in vii. 4;—“to yield up,”in xxvii. 50;—“to let go,”in S. Mark xi. 6;—“to let alone,”in xiv. 6. Here then, by the admission of the Revisionists,[pg 194]are eight diversities of meaning in the same word. But they make the admission grudgingly; and, in order to render ἀφιέναι as often as possible“leave,”they do violence to many a place of Scripture where some other word would have been more appropriate. Thus“laying aside”might have stood in S. Mark vii. 8.“Suffered”(or“let”) was preferable in S. Luke xii. 39. And, (to return to the place from which we started,) in S. Mark i. 18,“forsook”was better than“left.”And why? Because men“leavetheir father,”(as the Collect for S. James's Day bears witness); but“forsakeall covetous desires”(as the Collect for S. Matthew's Day aptly attests). For which reason,—“And they allforsookHim”was infinitely preferable to“and they allleftHim, and fled,”in S. Mark xiv. 50. We insist that a vast deal more is lost by this perpetual disregard of the idiomatic proprieties of the English language, than is gained by a pedantic striving after uniformity of rendering, only because the Greek word happens to be the same.For it is sure sometimes to happen that what seems mere licentiousness proves on closer inspection to be unobtrusive Scholarship of the best kind. An illustration presents itself in connection with the word just now before us. It is found to have been ourSaviour'spractice to“send away”the multitude whom He had been feeding or teaching, in some formal manner,—whether with an act of solemn benediction, or words of commendatory prayer, or both. Accordingly, on the memorable occasion when, at the close of a long day of superhuman exertion, His bodily powers succumbed, and the Disciples were fain to take Him“as He was”in the ship, and at once He“fell asleep;”—on that solitary occasion,the Disciplesare related to have“sent awaythe multitudes,”—i.e.to have formally dismissed them on His behalf, as they had often seen their Master do. The[pg 195]word employed to designate this practice on two memorable occasions is ἀπολύειν:575on the other two, ἀφιέναι.576This proves to have been perfectly well understood as well by the learned authors of the Latin Version of the N. T., as by the scholars who translated the Gospels into the vernacular of Palestine. It has been reserved for the boasted learning of the XIXth century to misunderstand this little circumstance entirely. The R. V. renders S. Matth. xiii. 36,—not“ThenJesussent the multitude away”(“dimissis turbis”in every Latin copy,) but—“Then Heleftthe multitudes.”Also S. Mark iv. 36,—not“And when they hadsent away the multitude,”(which the Latin always renders“et dimittentes turbam,”) but—“Andleavingthe multitude.”Would it be altogether creditable, we respectfully ask, if at the end of 1800 years the Church of England were to put forth with authority such specimens of“Revision”as these?(c) We will trouble our Readers with yet another illustration of the principle for which we are contending.—We are soon made conscious that there has been a fidgetty anxiety on the part of the Revisionists, everywhere to substitute“maid”for“damsel”as the rendering of παιδίσκη. It offends us.“A damsel named Rhoda,”577—and the“damsel possessed with a spirit of divination,”578—might (we think) have been let alone. But out of curiosity we look further, to see what these gentlemen will do when they come to S. Luke xii. 45. Here, because παῖδας has been (properly) rendered“menservants,”παιδίσκας, they (not unreasonably) render“maid-servants,”—wherebythey break their rule. The crucial[pg 196]place is behind. What will they do with the Divine“Allegory”in Galatians, (iv. 21 to 31,)—where all turns on the contrast579between the παιδίσκη and the ἐλευθέρα,—the fact that Hagar was a“bondmaid”whereas Sarah was a“free woman”?“Maid”clearly could not stand here.“Maid-servant”would be intolerable. What is to be done? The Revisionists adopta thirdvariety of reading,—thus surrendering their principle entirely. And what reader with a spark of taste, (we confidently ask the question,) does not resent their substitution of“handmaid”for“bondmaid”throughout these verses?Whowill deny that the mention of“bondage”in verses 24 and 25 claims, at the hands of an intelligent English translator, that he shall avail himself of the admirable and helpful equivalent for παιδίσκη which, as it happens, the English language possesses? More than that.Who—(except one who is himself“in bondage—with his children”)—whodoes not respond gratefully to the exquisite taste and tact with which“bondmaid”itself has been exchanged for“bondwoman”by our translators of 1611, in verses 23, 30 and 31?... Verily, those men understood their craft!“There were giants in those days.”As little would they submit to be bound by the new cords of the Philistines as by their green withes. Upon occasion, they could shake themselves free from either. And why? For the selfsame reason: viz. because theSpiritof theirGodwas mightily upon them.Our contention, so far, has been but this,—that it does not by any means follow that identical Greek words and expressions,wherever occurring, are to be rendered by identical words and expressions in English. We desire to pass on to something of more importance.[pg 197]Let it not be supposed that we make light of the difficulties which our Revisionists have had to encounter; or are wanting in generous appreciation of the conscientious toil of many men for many years; or that we overlook the perils of the enterprise in which they have seen fit to adventure their reputation. If ever a severe expression escapes us, it is because our Revisionists themselves seem to have so very imperfectly realized the responsibility of their undertaking, and the peculiar difficulties by which it is unavoidably beset. The truth is,—as all who have given real thought to the subject must be aware,—the phenomena of Language are among the most subtle and delicate imaginable: the problem of Translation, one of the most manysided and difficult that can be named. And if this holds universally, in how much greater a degree when the book to be translated isthe Bible! Here, anything like a mechanicallevelling upof terms, every attempt to impose a pre-arranged system of uniform rendering on words,—every one of which has a history and (so to speak)a willof its own,—is inevitably destined to result in discomfiture and disappointment. But what makes this so very serious a matter is that, becauseHoly Scriptureis the Book experimented upon, the loftiest interests that can be named become imperilled; and it will constantly happen that what is not perhaps in itself a very serious mistake may yet inflict irreparable injury. We subjoin an humble illustration of our meaning—the rather, because it will afford us an opportunity for penetrating a little deeper into the proprieties of Scriptural Translation:—(d) The place of ourLord'sBurial, which is mentioned upwards of 30 times in the Gospels, is styled in the original, μνημεῖον. This appellation is applied to it three times by S. Matthew;—six times by S. Mark;—eight times by[pg 198]S. Luke;580—eleven times by S. John. Only on four occasions, in close succession, does the first Evangelist call it by another name, viz. τάφος.581King James's translators (following Tyndale and Cranmer) decline to notice this diversity, and uniformly style it the“sepulchre.”So long as it belonged to Joseph of Arimathea, they call it a“tomb”(Matth. xxvii. 60): when once it has been appropriated by“theLordof Glory,”in the same versethey give it a different English appellation. But our Revisionists of 1881, as if bent on“making a fresh departure,”everywheresubstitute“tomb”for“sepulchre”as the rendering of μνημεῖον.Does any one ask,—And why should theynot? We answer, Because, in connection with“the Sepulchre”of ourLord, there has grown up such an ample literature and such a famous history, that we are no longerableto sever ourselves from those environments of the problem, even if we desired to do so. In all such cases as the present, we have to balance the Loss against the Gain. Quite idle is it for the pedant of 1881 to insist that τάφος and μνημεῖον are two different words. We do not dispute the fact. (Then, if hemust, let him represent τάφος in some other way.) It remains true, notwithstanding, that the receptacle of ourSaviour'sBody after His dissolution will have to be spoken of as“the Holy Sepulchre”till the end of time; and it is altogether to be desired that its familiar designation should be suffered to survive unmolested on the eternal page, in consequence. There are, after all, mightier laws in the Universe than those of grammar. In the quaint language of our Translators of 1611:“For is the Kingdom ofGodbecome words or syllables? Why should we be in bondage to them[pg 199]if we may be free?”... As for considerations of etymological propriety, the nearest English equivalent for μνημεῖον (be it remembered) isnot“tomb,”but“monument.”(e) Our Revisionists seem not to be aware that 270 years of undisturbed possession have given to certain words rights to which they could not else have pretended, but of which it is impossible any more to dispossess them. It savours of folly as well as of pedantry even to make the attempt. Διδαχή occurs 30,—διδασκαλία 21 times,—in the N. T. Etymologically, both words alike mean“teaching;”and are therefore indifferently rendered“doctrina”in the Vulgate,582—for which reason,“doctrine”represents both words indifferently in our A. V.583But the Revisers have well-nigh extirpated“doctrine”from the N. T.: (1st), By making“teaching,”the rendering of διδαχή,584—(reserving“doctrine”for διδασκαλία585): and (2ndly), By 6 times substituting“teaching”(once,“learning”) for“doctrine,”in places where διδασκαλία occurs.586This is to be lamented every way. The word cannot be spared so often. The“teachings”of ourLordand of His Apostles werethe“doctrines”of Christianity. When S. Paul speaks of“thedoctrineof baptisms”(Heb. vi. 2), it is simply incomprehensible to us why“theteachingof baptisms”should be deemed a preferable expression. And if the warning against being“carried about with every wind ofdoctrine,”may stand in Ephes. iv. 14, why may it not be left standing in Heb. xiii. 9?[pg 200](f) In the same spirit, we can but wonder at the extravagant bad taste which, at the end of 500 years, has ventured to substitute“bowls”for“vials”in the Book of Revelation.587As a matter of fact, we venture to point out that φιάλη no more means“a bowl”than“saucer”means“a cup.”But, waiving this, we are confident that our Revisers would have shown more wisdom if they hadlet alonea word which, having no English equivalent, has passed into the sacred vocabulary of the language, and has acquired a conventional signification which will cleave to it for ever.“Vials of wrath”are understood to signify the outpouring ofGod'swrathful visitations on mankind: whereas“bowls”really conveys no meaning at all, except a mean and unworthy, not to say an inconveniently ambiguous one. What must be the impression made on persons of very humble station,—labouring-men,—when they hear of“the seven Angels that hadthe seven bowls”? (Rev. xvii. 1.) The φιάλη,—if we must needs talk like Antiquaries—is a circular, almost flat and very shallow vessel,—of which the contents can be discharged in an instant. It was used in pouring out libations. There is, at that back of it, in the centre, a hollow for the first joint of the forefinger to rest in.Paterathe Latins called it. Specimens are to be seen in abundance.The same Revisionists have also fallen foul of the“alabasterboxof ointment.”—for which they have substituted“an alabastercruseof ointment.”588But whatisa“cruse”? Their marginal note says,“Or,‘a flask:’”but once more, whatis“a flask”? Certainly, the receptacles to which that name is now commonly applied, (e.g.a powder-flask, a Florence flask, a flask of wine, &c.) bear no resemblance whatever to the vase called ἀλάβαστρον. The probability is[pg 201]that the receptacle for the precious ointment with which the sister of Lazarus provided herself, was likest of all to a small medicine-bottle (lecythusthe ancients called it), made however of alabaster. Specimens of it abound. But why not let such words alone? The same Critics have had the good sense to leave standing“the bag,”for what was confessedly abox589(S. John xii. 6: xiii. 29); and“your purses”for what in the Greek is unmistakably“yourgirdles”590(S. Matth. x. 9). We can but repeat that possession forfive centuriesconveys rights which it is always useless, and sometimes dangerous, to dispute.“Vials”will certainly have to be put back into the Apocalypse.(g) Having said so much about the proposed rendering of such unpromising vocables as μνημεῖον—διδαχή—φιάλη, it is time to invite the Reader's attention to the calamitous fate which has befallen certain other words of infinitely greater importance.And first for Ἀγάπη—a substantive noun unknown to the heathen, even as the sentiment which the word expresses proves to be a grace of purely Christian growth. What else but a real calamity would be the sentence of perpetual banishment passed by our Revisionists on“that most excellent gift, the gift ofCharity,”and the general substitution of“Love”in its place? Do not these learned men perceive that“Love”is not an equivalent term? Can they require to be told that, because of S. Paul's exquisite and life-like portrait of“Charity,”and the use which has been made of the word in sacred literature in consequence, it has come to pass that the word“Charity”connotes many ideas to which the word“Love”is an entire stranger? that“Love,”on the contrary, has come to connote many unworthy notions which in“Charity”find no place at all? And if this be[pg 202]so, how can our Revisionists expect that we shall endure the loss of the name of the very choicest of the Christian graces,—and which, if it is nowhere to be found in Scripture, will presently come to be only traditionally known among mankind, and will in the end cease to be a term clearly understood? Have the Revisionists of 1881 considered how firmly this word“Charity”has established itself in the phraseology of the Church,—ancient, mediæval, modern,—as well as in our Book of Common Prayer? how thoroughly it has vindicated for itself the right of citizenship in the English language? how it has entered into our common vocabulary, and become one of the best understood of“household words”? Of what can they have been thinking when they deliberately obliterated from the thirteenth chapter of S. Paul's 1st Epistle to the Corinthians the ninefold recurrence of the name of“that most excellent gift, the gift ofCharity”?(h) With equal displeasure, but with even sadder feelings, we recognize in the present Revision a resolute elimination of“Miracles”from the N. T.—Not so, (we shall be eagerly reminded,) but only of theirName. True, but the two perforce go together, as every thoughtful man knows. At all events, the getting rid ofthe Name,—(except in the few instances which are enumerated below,)—will in the account of millions be regarded as the getting rid ofthe thing. And in the esteem of all, learned and unlearned alike, the systematic obliteration of the signifying word from the pages of that Book to which we refer exclusively for our knowledge of the remarkable thing signified,—cannot but be looked upon as a memorable and momentous circumstance. Some, it may be, will be chiefly struck by the foolishness of the proceeding: for at the end of centuries of familiarity with such a word, we are no longerableto part company with it, even if we were inclined. The term[pg 203]has struck root firmly in our Literature: has established itself in the terminology of Divines: has grown into our common speech. But further, even were it possible to get rid of the words“Miracle”and“Miraculous,”what else but abiding inconvenience would be the result? for we must still desire to speak aboutthe things; and it is a truism to remark that there are no other words in the language which connote the same ideas. What therefore has been gained by substituting“sign”for“miracle”on some 19 or 20 occasions—(“this beginning ofhis signsdidJesus,”—“this is again thesecond signthatJesusdid”)—we really fail to see.That the word in the original is σημεῖον, and that σημεῖον means“a sign,”we are aware. But what then? Because ἄγγελος, in strictness, means“a messenger,”—γραφή,“a writing,”—ὑποκριτής,“an actor,”—ἐκκλησία,“an assembly,”—εὐαγγέλιον,“good tidings,”—ἐπίσκοπος,“an overseer,”—βαπτιστής,“one that dips,”—παράδεισος,“a garden,”—μαθητής,“a learner,”—χἁρις,“favour:”—are we to forego the established English equivalents for these words, and never more to hear of“grace,”“disciple,”“Paradise,”“Baptist,”“Bishop,”“Gospel,”“Church,”“hypocrite,”“Scripture,”“Angel”? Is it then desired to revolutionize our sacred terminology? or at all events to sever with the Past, and to translate the Scriptures into English on etymological principles? We are amazed that the first proposal to resort to such a preposterous method was not instantly scouted by a large majority of those who frequented the Jerusalem Chamber.The words under consideration are not only not equivalent, but they are quite dissimilar. All“signs”are not“Miracles,”591though all“Miracles”are undeniably“signs.”[pg 204]Would not a marginal annotation concerning the original word, as at S. Luke xxiii. 8, have sufficed? Andwhywas the term“Miracle”as the rendering of σημεῖον592spared only onthatoccasion in the Gospels; andonlyin connection with S. Peter's miracle of healing the impotent man, in the Acts?593We ask the question not caring for an answer. We are merely bent on submitting to our Readers, whether,—especially in an age like the present of wide-spread unbelief in the Miraculous,—it was a judicious proceeding in our Revisionists almost everywhere to substitute“Sign”for“Miracle”as the rendering of σημεῖον.(i) Every bit as offensive, in its way, is a marginal note respecting the Third Person in the Trinity, which does duty at S. Matth. i. 18: S. Mark i. 8: S. Luke i. 15: Acts i. 2: Rom. v. 5: Heb. ii. 4. As a rule, in short, against every fresh first mention of“theHoly Ghost,”five lines are punctually devoted to the remark,—“Or, Holy Spirit:and so throughout this book.”Now, as Canon Cook very fairly puts the case,—
“They seem”—(he says, speaking of the Revisionists of 1611)—“to have been guided by the feeling that their Version would secure for the words they used a lasting place in the language; and they express a fear lest they should‘be charged (by scoffers) with some unequal dealing towards a great number of good English words,’which, without this liberty on their part, would not have a place in the pages of the English Bible. Still it cannot be doubted that their studied avoidance of uniformity in the rendering of the same words, even when occurring in the same context, is one of the blemishes in their work.”—Preface, (i. 2).Yes, it cannot be doubted. When S. Paul, in a long and familiar passage (2 Cor. i. 3-7), is observed studiously to[pg 190]linger over the same word (παράκλησις namely, which is generally rendered“comfort”);—to harp upon it;—to reproduce itten timesin the course of those five verses;—it seems unreasonable that a Translator, as if in defiance of the Apostle, should on four occasions (viz. when the word comes back for the 6th, 7th, 9th, and 10th times), for“comfort”substitute“consolation.”And this one example may serve as well as a hundred. It would really seem as if the Revisionists of 1611 had considered it a graceful achievement to vary the English phrase even on occasions where a marked identity of expression characterizes the original Greek. When we find them turning“goodly apparel,”(in S. James ii. 2,) into“gay clothing,”(in ver. 3,)—we can but conjecture that they conceived themselves at liberty to act exactly as S. James himself would (possibly) have acted had he been writing English.But if the learned men who gave us our A. V. may be thought to have erred on the side of excess, there can be no doubt whatever, (at least among competent judges,) that our Revisionists have sinned far more grievously and with greater injury to the Deposit, by their slavish proclivity to the opposite form of error. We must needs speak out plainly: for the question before us is not, What defects are discoverable in our Authorized Version?—but, What amount of gain would be likely to accrue to the Church if the present Revision were accepted as a substitute? And we assert without hesitation, that the amount of certain loss would so largely outweigh the amount of possible gain, that the proposal may not be seriously entertained for a moment. As well on grounds of Scholarship and Taste, as of Textual Criticism (as explained at large in our former Article), the work before us is immensely inferior. To speak plainly, it is an utter failure.[pg 191]XI. For the respected Authors of it practically deny the truth of the principle enunciated by their predecessors of 1611, viz. that“there be some words that be not of the same sense everywhere.”On such a fundamental truism we are ashamed to enlarge: but it becomes necessary that we should do so. We proceed to illustrate, by two familiar instances,—the first which come to hand,—the mischievous result which is inevitable to an enforced uniformity of rendering.(a) The verb αἰτεῖν confessedly means“to ask.”And perhaps no better general English equivalent could be suggested for it. But then,in a certain context,“ask”would be an inadequate rendering: in another, it would be improper: in a third, it would be simply intolerable. Of all this, the great Scholars of 1611 showed themselves profoundly conscious. Accordingly, when this same verb (in the middle voice) is employed to describe how the clamorous rabble, besieging Pilate, claimed their accustomed privilege, (viz. to have the prisoner of their choice released unto them,) those ancient men, with a fine instinct, retain Tyndale's rendering“desired”569in S. Mark (xv. 8),—and his“required”in S. Luke (xxiii. 23).—When, however, the humble entreaty, which Joseph of Arimathea addressed to the same Pilate (viz. that he might be allowed to take away the Body ofJesus), is in question, then the same Scholars (following Tyndale and Cranmer), with the same propriety exhibit“begged.”—King David, inasmuch as he only“desiredto find a habitation for theGodof Jacob,”of course may not be said to have“asked”to do so; and yet S. Stephen (Acts vii. 46) does not hesitate to employ the verb ᾐτήσατο.—So again, when they of Tyre and Sidon approached Herod whom they had offended: they[pg 192]did but“desire”peace.570—S. Paul, in like manner, addressing the Ephesians:“Idesirethat ye faint not at my tribulations for you.”571But our Revisionists,—possessed with the single idea that αἰτεῖν means“toask”and αἰτεῖσθαι“toask for,”—have proceeded mechanically to inflict that rendering on every one of the foregoing passages. In defiance of propriety,—of reason,—even (in David's case) of historical truth,572—they have thrust in“asked”everywhere. At last, however, they are encountered by two places which absolutely refuse to submit to such iron bondage. The terror-stricken jailer of Philippi, whenhe“asked”for lights, must needs have done so after a truly imperious fashion. Accordingly, the“called for”573of Tyndale and all subsequent translators, ispro hâc viceallowed by our Revisionists to stand. And to conclude,—When S. Paul, speaking of his supplications on behalf of the Christians at Colosse, uses this same verb (αἰτούμενοι) in a context where“to ask”would be intolerable, our Revisionists render the word“to make request;”574—though they might just as well have let alone the rendering ofalltheir predecessors,—viz.“to desire.”These are many words, but we know not how to make them fewer. Let this one example, (only because it is the first which presented itself,) stand for a thousand others. Apart from the grievous lack of Taste (not to say of Scholarship) which such a method betrays,—whosees not that the only excuse which could have been invented for it has[pg 193]disappeared by the time we reach the end of our investigation? If αἰτέω, αἰτοῦμαι had beeninvariablytranslated“ask,”“ask for,”it might at least have been pretended that“the English Reader is in this way put entirely on a level with the Greek Scholar;”—though it would have been a vain pretence, as all must admit who understand the power of language.Oncemake it apparent that just in a single place, perhaps in two, the Translator found himself forced to break through his rigid uniformity of rendering,—andwhatremains but an uneasy suspicion that then there must have been a strain put on the Evangelists' meaning in a vast proportion of the other seventy places where αἰτεῖν occurs? An unlearned reader's confidence in his guide vanishes; and he finds that he has had not a few deflections from the Authorized Version thrust upon him, of which he reasonably questions alike the taste and the necessity,—e.g.at S. Matth. xx. 20.(b) But take a more interesting example. In S. Mark i. 18, the A. V. has,“and straightway theyforsook”(which the Revisionists alter into“left”)“their nets.”Why? Because in verse 20, the same word ἀφέντες will recur; and because the Revisionists propose to let the statement (“theylefttheir father Zebedee”) stand. They“level up”accordingly; and plume themselves on their consistency.We venture to point out, however, that the verb ἀφιέναι is one of a large family of verbs which,—always retaining their own essential signification,—yet depend for their English rendering entirely on the context in which they occur. Thus, ἀφιέναι is rightly rendered“to suffer,”in S. Matth. iii. 15;—“to leave,”in iv. 11;—“to let have,”in v. 40;—“to forgive,”in vi. 12, 14, 15;—“to let,”in vii. 4;—“to yield up,”in xxvii. 50;—“to let go,”in S. Mark xi. 6;—“to let alone,”in xiv. 6. Here then, by the admission of the Revisionists,[pg 194]are eight diversities of meaning in the same word. But they make the admission grudgingly; and, in order to render ἀφιέναι as often as possible“leave,”they do violence to many a place of Scripture where some other word would have been more appropriate. Thus“laying aside”might have stood in S. Mark vii. 8.“Suffered”(or“let”) was preferable in S. Luke xii. 39. And, (to return to the place from which we started,) in S. Mark i. 18,“forsook”was better than“left.”And why? Because men“leavetheir father,”(as the Collect for S. James's Day bears witness); but“forsakeall covetous desires”(as the Collect for S. Matthew's Day aptly attests). For which reason,—“And they allforsookHim”was infinitely preferable to“and they allleftHim, and fled,”in S. Mark xiv. 50. We insist that a vast deal more is lost by this perpetual disregard of the idiomatic proprieties of the English language, than is gained by a pedantic striving after uniformity of rendering, only because the Greek word happens to be the same.For it is sure sometimes to happen that what seems mere licentiousness proves on closer inspection to be unobtrusive Scholarship of the best kind. An illustration presents itself in connection with the word just now before us. It is found to have been ourSaviour'spractice to“send away”the multitude whom He had been feeding or teaching, in some formal manner,—whether with an act of solemn benediction, or words of commendatory prayer, or both. Accordingly, on the memorable occasion when, at the close of a long day of superhuman exertion, His bodily powers succumbed, and the Disciples were fain to take Him“as He was”in the ship, and at once He“fell asleep;”—on that solitary occasion,the Disciplesare related to have“sent awaythe multitudes,”—i.e.to have formally dismissed them on His behalf, as they had often seen their Master do. The[pg 195]word employed to designate this practice on two memorable occasions is ἀπολύειν:575on the other two, ἀφιέναι.576This proves to have been perfectly well understood as well by the learned authors of the Latin Version of the N. T., as by the scholars who translated the Gospels into the vernacular of Palestine. It has been reserved for the boasted learning of the XIXth century to misunderstand this little circumstance entirely. The R. V. renders S. Matth. xiii. 36,—not“ThenJesussent the multitude away”(“dimissis turbis”in every Latin copy,) but—“Then Heleftthe multitudes.”Also S. Mark iv. 36,—not“And when they hadsent away the multitude,”(which the Latin always renders“et dimittentes turbam,”) but—“Andleavingthe multitude.”Would it be altogether creditable, we respectfully ask, if at the end of 1800 years the Church of England were to put forth with authority such specimens of“Revision”as these?(c) We will trouble our Readers with yet another illustration of the principle for which we are contending.—We are soon made conscious that there has been a fidgetty anxiety on the part of the Revisionists, everywhere to substitute“maid”for“damsel”as the rendering of παιδίσκη. It offends us.“A damsel named Rhoda,”577—and the“damsel possessed with a spirit of divination,”578—might (we think) have been let alone. But out of curiosity we look further, to see what these gentlemen will do when they come to S. Luke xii. 45. Here, because παῖδας has been (properly) rendered“menservants,”παιδίσκας, they (not unreasonably) render“maid-servants,”—wherebythey break their rule. The crucial[pg 196]place is behind. What will they do with the Divine“Allegory”in Galatians, (iv. 21 to 31,)—where all turns on the contrast579between the παιδίσκη and the ἐλευθέρα,—the fact that Hagar was a“bondmaid”whereas Sarah was a“free woman”?“Maid”clearly could not stand here.“Maid-servant”would be intolerable. What is to be done? The Revisionists adopta thirdvariety of reading,—thus surrendering their principle entirely. And what reader with a spark of taste, (we confidently ask the question,) does not resent their substitution of“handmaid”for“bondmaid”throughout these verses?Whowill deny that the mention of“bondage”in verses 24 and 25 claims, at the hands of an intelligent English translator, that he shall avail himself of the admirable and helpful equivalent for παιδίσκη which, as it happens, the English language possesses? More than that.Who—(except one who is himself“in bondage—with his children”)—whodoes not respond gratefully to the exquisite taste and tact with which“bondmaid”itself has been exchanged for“bondwoman”by our translators of 1611, in verses 23, 30 and 31?... Verily, those men understood their craft!“There were giants in those days.”As little would they submit to be bound by the new cords of the Philistines as by their green withes. Upon occasion, they could shake themselves free from either. And why? For the selfsame reason: viz. because theSpiritof theirGodwas mightily upon them.Our contention, so far, has been but this,—that it does not by any means follow that identical Greek words and expressions,wherever occurring, are to be rendered by identical words and expressions in English. We desire to pass on to something of more importance.[pg 197]Let it not be supposed that we make light of the difficulties which our Revisionists have had to encounter; or are wanting in generous appreciation of the conscientious toil of many men for many years; or that we overlook the perils of the enterprise in which they have seen fit to adventure their reputation. If ever a severe expression escapes us, it is because our Revisionists themselves seem to have so very imperfectly realized the responsibility of their undertaking, and the peculiar difficulties by which it is unavoidably beset. The truth is,—as all who have given real thought to the subject must be aware,—the phenomena of Language are among the most subtle and delicate imaginable: the problem of Translation, one of the most manysided and difficult that can be named. And if this holds universally, in how much greater a degree when the book to be translated isthe Bible! Here, anything like a mechanicallevelling upof terms, every attempt to impose a pre-arranged system of uniform rendering on words,—every one of which has a history and (so to speak)a willof its own,—is inevitably destined to result in discomfiture and disappointment. But what makes this so very serious a matter is that, becauseHoly Scriptureis the Book experimented upon, the loftiest interests that can be named become imperilled; and it will constantly happen that what is not perhaps in itself a very serious mistake may yet inflict irreparable injury. We subjoin an humble illustration of our meaning—the rather, because it will afford us an opportunity for penetrating a little deeper into the proprieties of Scriptural Translation:—(d) The place of ourLord'sBurial, which is mentioned upwards of 30 times in the Gospels, is styled in the original, μνημεῖον. This appellation is applied to it three times by S. Matthew;—six times by S. Mark;—eight times by[pg 198]S. Luke;580—eleven times by S. John. Only on four occasions, in close succession, does the first Evangelist call it by another name, viz. τάφος.581King James's translators (following Tyndale and Cranmer) decline to notice this diversity, and uniformly style it the“sepulchre.”So long as it belonged to Joseph of Arimathea, they call it a“tomb”(Matth. xxvii. 60): when once it has been appropriated by“theLordof Glory,”in the same versethey give it a different English appellation. But our Revisionists of 1881, as if bent on“making a fresh departure,”everywheresubstitute“tomb”for“sepulchre”as the rendering of μνημεῖον.Does any one ask,—And why should theynot? We answer, Because, in connection with“the Sepulchre”of ourLord, there has grown up such an ample literature and such a famous history, that we are no longerableto sever ourselves from those environments of the problem, even if we desired to do so. In all such cases as the present, we have to balance the Loss against the Gain. Quite idle is it for the pedant of 1881 to insist that τάφος and μνημεῖον are two different words. We do not dispute the fact. (Then, if hemust, let him represent τάφος in some other way.) It remains true, notwithstanding, that the receptacle of ourSaviour'sBody after His dissolution will have to be spoken of as“the Holy Sepulchre”till the end of time; and it is altogether to be desired that its familiar designation should be suffered to survive unmolested on the eternal page, in consequence. There are, after all, mightier laws in the Universe than those of grammar. In the quaint language of our Translators of 1611:“For is the Kingdom ofGodbecome words or syllables? Why should we be in bondage to them[pg 199]if we may be free?”... As for considerations of etymological propriety, the nearest English equivalent for μνημεῖον (be it remembered) isnot“tomb,”but“monument.”(e) Our Revisionists seem not to be aware that 270 years of undisturbed possession have given to certain words rights to which they could not else have pretended, but of which it is impossible any more to dispossess them. It savours of folly as well as of pedantry even to make the attempt. Διδαχή occurs 30,—διδασκαλία 21 times,—in the N. T. Etymologically, both words alike mean“teaching;”and are therefore indifferently rendered“doctrina”in the Vulgate,582—for which reason,“doctrine”represents both words indifferently in our A. V.583But the Revisers have well-nigh extirpated“doctrine”from the N. T.: (1st), By making“teaching,”the rendering of διδαχή,584—(reserving“doctrine”for διδασκαλία585): and (2ndly), By 6 times substituting“teaching”(once,“learning”) for“doctrine,”in places where διδασκαλία occurs.586This is to be lamented every way. The word cannot be spared so often. The“teachings”of ourLordand of His Apostles werethe“doctrines”of Christianity. When S. Paul speaks of“thedoctrineof baptisms”(Heb. vi. 2), it is simply incomprehensible to us why“theteachingof baptisms”should be deemed a preferable expression. And if the warning against being“carried about with every wind ofdoctrine,”may stand in Ephes. iv. 14, why may it not be left standing in Heb. xiii. 9?[pg 200](f) In the same spirit, we can but wonder at the extravagant bad taste which, at the end of 500 years, has ventured to substitute“bowls”for“vials”in the Book of Revelation.587As a matter of fact, we venture to point out that φιάλη no more means“a bowl”than“saucer”means“a cup.”But, waiving this, we are confident that our Revisers would have shown more wisdom if they hadlet alonea word which, having no English equivalent, has passed into the sacred vocabulary of the language, and has acquired a conventional signification which will cleave to it for ever.“Vials of wrath”are understood to signify the outpouring ofGod'swrathful visitations on mankind: whereas“bowls”really conveys no meaning at all, except a mean and unworthy, not to say an inconveniently ambiguous one. What must be the impression made on persons of very humble station,—labouring-men,—when they hear of“the seven Angels that hadthe seven bowls”? (Rev. xvii. 1.) The φιάλη,—if we must needs talk like Antiquaries—is a circular, almost flat and very shallow vessel,—of which the contents can be discharged in an instant. It was used in pouring out libations. There is, at that back of it, in the centre, a hollow for the first joint of the forefinger to rest in.Paterathe Latins called it. Specimens are to be seen in abundance.The same Revisionists have also fallen foul of the“alabasterboxof ointment.”—for which they have substituted“an alabastercruseof ointment.”588But whatisa“cruse”? Their marginal note says,“Or,‘a flask:’”but once more, whatis“a flask”? Certainly, the receptacles to which that name is now commonly applied, (e.g.a powder-flask, a Florence flask, a flask of wine, &c.) bear no resemblance whatever to the vase called ἀλάβαστρον. The probability is[pg 201]that the receptacle for the precious ointment with which the sister of Lazarus provided herself, was likest of all to a small medicine-bottle (lecythusthe ancients called it), made however of alabaster. Specimens of it abound. But why not let such words alone? The same Critics have had the good sense to leave standing“the bag,”for what was confessedly abox589(S. John xii. 6: xiii. 29); and“your purses”for what in the Greek is unmistakably“yourgirdles”590(S. Matth. x. 9). We can but repeat that possession forfive centuriesconveys rights which it is always useless, and sometimes dangerous, to dispute.“Vials”will certainly have to be put back into the Apocalypse.(g) Having said so much about the proposed rendering of such unpromising vocables as μνημεῖον—διδαχή—φιάλη, it is time to invite the Reader's attention to the calamitous fate which has befallen certain other words of infinitely greater importance.And first for Ἀγάπη—a substantive noun unknown to the heathen, even as the sentiment which the word expresses proves to be a grace of purely Christian growth. What else but a real calamity would be the sentence of perpetual banishment passed by our Revisionists on“that most excellent gift, the gift ofCharity,”and the general substitution of“Love”in its place? Do not these learned men perceive that“Love”is not an equivalent term? Can they require to be told that, because of S. Paul's exquisite and life-like portrait of“Charity,”and the use which has been made of the word in sacred literature in consequence, it has come to pass that the word“Charity”connotes many ideas to which the word“Love”is an entire stranger? that“Love,”on the contrary, has come to connote many unworthy notions which in“Charity”find no place at all? And if this be[pg 202]so, how can our Revisionists expect that we shall endure the loss of the name of the very choicest of the Christian graces,—and which, if it is nowhere to be found in Scripture, will presently come to be only traditionally known among mankind, and will in the end cease to be a term clearly understood? Have the Revisionists of 1881 considered how firmly this word“Charity”has established itself in the phraseology of the Church,—ancient, mediæval, modern,—as well as in our Book of Common Prayer? how thoroughly it has vindicated for itself the right of citizenship in the English language? how it has entered into our common vocabulary, and become one of the best understood of“household words”? Of what can they have been thinking when they deliberately obliterated from the thirteenth chapter of S. Paul's 1st Epistle to the Corinthians the ninefold recurrence of the name of“that most excellent gift, the gift ofCharity”?(h) With equal displeasure, but with even sadder feelings, we recognize in the present Revision a resolute elimination of“Miracles”from the N. T.—Not so, (we shall be eagerly reminded,) but only of theirName. True, but the two perforce go together, as every thoughtful man knows. At all events, the getting rid ofthe Name,—(except in the few instances which are enumerated below,)—will in the account of millions be regarded as the getting rid ofthe thing. And in the esteem of all, learned and unlearned alike, the systematic obliteration of the signifying word from the pages of that Book to which we refer exclusively for our knowledge of the remarkable thing signified,—cannot but be looked upon as a memorable and momentous circumstance. Some, it may be, will be chiefly struck by the foolishness of the proceeding: for at the end of centuries of familiarity with such a word, we are no longerableto part company with it, even if we were inclined. The term[pg 203]has struck root firmly in our Literature: has established itself in the terminology of Divines: has grown into our common speech. But further, even were it possible to get rid of the words“Miracle”and“Miraculous,”what else but abiding inconvenience would be the result? for we must still desire to speak aboutthe things; and it is a truism to remark that there are no other words in the language which connote the same ideas. What therefore has been gained by substituting“sign”for“miracle”on some 19 or 20 occasions—(“this beginning ofhis signsdidJesus,”—“this is again thesecond signthatJesusdid”)—we really fail to see.That the word in the original is σημεῖον, and that σημεῖον means“a sign,”we are aware. But what then? Because ἄγγελος, in strictness, means“a messenger,”—γραφή,“a writing,”—ὑποκριτής,“an actor,”—ἐκκλησία,“an assembly,”—εὐαγγέλιον,“good tidings,”—ἐπίσκοπος,“an overseer,”—βαπτιστής,“one that dips,”—παράδεισος,“a garden,”—μαθητής,“a learner,”—χἁρις,“favour:”—are we to forego the established English equivalents for these words, and never more to hear of“grace,”“disciple,”“Paradise,”“Baptist,”“Bishop,”“Gospel,”“Church,”“hypocrite,”“Scripture,”“Angel”? Is it then desired to revolutionize our sacred terminology? or at all events to sever with the Past, and to translate the Scriptures into English on etymological principles? We are amazed that the first proposal to resort to such a preposterous method was not instantly scouted by a large majority of those who frequented the Jerusalem Chamber.The words under consideration are not only not equivalent, but they are quite dissimilar. All“signs”are not“Miracles,”591though all“Miracles”are undeniably“signs.”[pg 204]Would not a marginal annotation concerning the original word, as at S. Luke xxiii. 8, have sufficed? Andwhywas the term“Miracle”as the rendering of σημεῖον592spared only onthatoccasion in the Gospels; andonlyin connection with S. Peter's miracle of healing the impotent man, in the Acts?593We ask the question not caring for an answer. We are merely bent on submitting to our Readers, whether,—especially in an age like the present of wide-spread unbelief in the Miraculous,—it was a judicious proceeding in our Revisionists almost everywhere to substitute“Sign”for“Miracle”as the rendering of σημεῖον.(i) Every bit as offensive, in its way, is a marginal note respecting the Third Person in the Trinity, which does duty at S. Matth. i. 18: S. Mark i. 8: S. Luke i. 15: Acts i. 2: Rom. v. 5: Heb. ii. 4. As a rule, in short, against every fresh first mention of“theHoly Ghost,”five lines are punctually devoted to the remark,—“Or, Holy Spirit:and so throughout this book.”Now, as Canon Cook very fairly puts the case,—
“They seem”—(he says, speaking of the Revisionists of 1611)—“to have been guided by the feeling that their Version would secure for the words they used a lasting place in the language; and they express a fear lest they should‘be charged (by scoffers) with some unequal dealing towards a great number of good English words,’which, without this liberty on their part, would not have a place in the pages of the English Bible. Still it cannot be doubted that their studied avoidance of uniformity in the rendering of the same words, even when occurring in the same context, is one of the blemishes in their work.”—Preface, (i. 2).Yes, it cannot be doubted. When S. Paul, in a long and familiar passage (2 Cor. i. 3-7), is observed studiously to[pg 190]linger over the same word (παράκλησις namely, which is generally rendered“comfort”);—to harp upon it;—to reproduce itten timesin the course of those five verses;—it seems unreasonable that a Translator, as if in defiance of the Apostle, should on four occasions (viz. when the word comes back for the 6th, 7th, 9th, and 10th times), for“comfort”substitute“consolation.”And this one example may serve as well as a hundred. It would really seem as if the Revisionists of 1611 had considered it a graceful achievement to vary the English phrase even on occasions where a marked identity of expression characterizes the original Greek. When we find them turning“goodly apparel,”(in S. James ii. 2,) into“gay clothing,”(in ver. 3,)—we can but conjecture that they conceived themselves at liberty to act exactly as S. James himself would (possibly) have acted had he been writing English.But if the learned men who gave us our A. V. may be thought to have erred on the side of excess, there can be no doubt whatever, (at least among competent judges,) that our Revisionists have sinned far more grievously and with greater injury to the Deposit, by their slavish proclivity to the opposite form of error. We must needs speak out plainly: for the question before us is not, What defects are discoverable in our Authorized Version?—but, What amount of gain would be likely to accrue to the Church if the present Revision were accepted as a substitute? And we assert without hesitation, that the amount of certain loss would so largely outweigh the amount of possible gain, that the proposal may not be seriously entertained for a moment. As well on grounds of Scholarship and Taste, as of Textual Criticism (as explained at large in our former Article), the work before us is immensely inferior. To speak plainly, it is an utter failure.[pg 191]XI. For the respected Authors of it practically deny the truth of the principle enunciated by their predecessors of 1611, viz. that“there be some words that be not of the same sense everywhere.”On such a fundamental truism we are ashamed to enlarge: but it becomes necessary that we should do so. We proceed to illustrate, by two familiar instances,—the first which come to hand,—the mischievous result which is inevitable to an enforced uniformity of rendering.(a) The verb αἰτεῖν confessedly means“to ask.”And perhaps no better general English equivalent could be suggested for it. But then,in a certain context,“ask”would be an inadequate rendering: in another, it would be improper: in a third, it would be simply intolerable. Of all this, the great Scholars of 1611 showed themselves profoundly conscious. Accordingly, when this same verb (in the middle voice) is employed to describe how the clamorous rabble, besieging Pilate, claimed their accustomed privilege, (viz. to have the prisoner of their choice released unto them,) those ancient men, with a fine instinct, retain Tyndale's rendering“desired”569in S. Mark (xv. 8),—and his“required”in S. Luke (xxiii. 23).—When, however, the humble entreaty, which Joseph of Arimathea addressed to the same Pilate (viz. that he might be allowed to take away the Body ofJesus), is in question, then the same Scholars (following Tyndale and Cranmer), with the same propriety exhibit“begged.”—King David, inasmuch as he only“desiredto find a habitation for theGodof Jacob,”of course may not be said to have“asked”to do so; and yet S. Stephen (Acts vii. 46) does not hesitate to employ the verb ᾐτήσατο.—So again, when they of Tyre and Sidon approached Herod whom they had offended: they[pg 192]did but“desire”peace.570—S. Paul, in like manner, addressing the Ephesians:“Idesirethat ye faint not at my tribulations for you.”571But our Revisionists,—possessed with the single idea that αἰτεῖν means“toask”and αἰτεῖσθαι“toask for,”—have proceeded mechanically to inflict that rendering on every one of the foregoing passages. In defiance of propriety,—of reason,—even (in David's case) of historical truth,572—they have thrust in“asked”everywhere. At last, however, they are encountered by two places which absolutely refuse to submit to such iron bondage. The terror-stricken jailer of Philippi, whenhe“asked”for lights, must needs have done so after a truly imperious fashion. Accordingly, the“called for”573of Tyndale and all subsequent translators, ispro hâc viceallowed by our Revisionists to stand. And to conclude,—When S. Paul, speaking of his supplications on behalf of the Christians at Colosse, uses this same verb (αἰτούμενοι) in a context where“to ask”would be intolerable, our Revisionists render the word“to make request;”574—though they might just as well have let alone the rendering ofalltheir predecessors,—viz.“to desire.”These are many words, but we know not how to make them fewer. Let this one example, (only because it is the first which presented itself,) stand for a thousand others. Apart from the grievous lack of Taste (not to say of Scholarship) which such a method betrays,—whosees not that the only excuse which could have been invented for it has[pg 193]disappeared by the time we reach the end of our investigation? If αἰτέω, αἰτοῦμαι had beeninvariablytranslated“ask,”“ask for,”it might at least have been pretended that“the English Reader is in this way put entirely on a level with the Greek Scholar;”—though it would have been a vain pretence, as all must admit who understand the power of language.Oncemake it apparent that just in a single place, perhaps in two, the Translator found himself forced to break through his rigid uniformity of rendering,—andwhatremains but an uneasy suspicion that then there must have been a strain put on the Evangelists' meaning in a vast proportion of the other seventy places where αἰτεῖν occurs? An unlearned reader's confidence in his guide vanishes; and he finds that he has had not a few deflections from the Authorized Version thrust upon him, of which he reasonably questions alike the taste and the necessity,—e.g.at S. Matth. xx. 20.(b) But take a more interesting example. In S. Mark i. 18, the A. V. has,“and straightway theyforsook”(which the Revisionists alter into“left”)“their nets.”Why? Because in verse 20, the same word ἀφέντες will recur; and because the Revisionists propose to let the statement (“theylefttheir father Zebedee”) stand. They“level up”accordingly; and plume themselves on their consistency.We venture to point out, however, that the verb ἀφιέναι is one of a large family of verbs which,—always retaining their own essential signification,—yet depend for their English rendering entirely on the context in which they occur. Thus, ἀφιέναι is rightly rendered“to suffer,”in S. Matth. iii. 15;—“to leave,”in iv. 11;—“to let have,”in v. 40;—“to forgive,”in vi. 12, 14, 15;—“to let,”in vii. 4;—“to yield up,”in xxvii. 50;—“to let go,”in S. Mark xi. 6;—“to let alone,”in xiv. 6. Here then, by the admission of the Revisionists,[pg 194]are eight diversities of meaning in the same word. But they make the admission grudgingly; and, in order to render ἀφιέναι as often as possible“leave,”they do violence to many a place of Scripture where some other word would have been more appropriate. Thus“laying aside”might have stood in S. Mark vii. 8.“Suffered”(or“let”) was preferable in S. Luke xii. 39. And, (to return to the place from which we started,) in S. Mark i. 18,“forsook”was better than“left.”And why? Because men“leavetheir father,”(as the Collect for S. James's Day bears witness); but“forsakeall covetous desires”(as the Collect for S. Matthew's Day aptly attests). For which reason,—“And they allforsookHim”was infinitely preferable to“and they allleftHim, and fled,”in S. Mark xiv. 50. We insist that a vast deal more is lost by this perpetual disregard of the idiomatic proprieties of the English language, than is gained by a pedantic striving after uniformity of rendering, only because the Greek word happens to be the same.For it is sure sometimes to happen that what seems mere licentiousness proves on closer inspection to be unobtrusive Scholarship of the best kind. An illustration presents itself in connection with the word just now before us. It is found to have been ourSaviour'spractice to“send away”the multitude whom He had been feeding or teaching, in some formal manner,—whether with an act of solemn benediction, or words of commendatory prayer, or both. Accordingly, on the memorable occasion when, at the close of a long day of superhuman exertion, His bodily powers succumbed, and the Disciples were fain to take Him“as He was”in the ship, and at once He“fell asleep;”—on that solitary occasion,the Disciplesare related to have“sent awaythe multitudes,”—i.e.to have formally dismissed them on His behalf, as they had often seen their Master do. The[pg 195]word employed to designate this practice on two memorable occasions is ἀπολύειν:575on the other two, ἀφιέναι.576This proves to have been perfectly well understood as well by the learned authors of the Latin Version of the N. T., as by the scholars who translated the Gospels into the vernacular of Palestine. It has been reserved for the boasted learning of the XIXth century to misunderstand this little circumstance entirely. The R. V. renders S. Matth. xiii. 36,—not“ThenJesussent the multitude away”(“dimissis turbis”in every Latin copy,) but—“Then Heleftthe multitudes.”Also S. Mark iv. 36,—not“And when they hadsent away the multitude,”(which the Latin always renders“et dimittentes turbam,”) but—“Andleavingthe multitude.”Would it be altogether creditable, we respectfully ask, if at the end of 1800 years the Church of England were to put forth with authority such specimens of“Revision”as these?(c) We will trouble our Readers with yet another illustration of the principle for which we are contending.—We are soon made conscious that there has been a fidgetty anxiety on the part of the Revisionists, everywhere to substitute“maid”for“damsel”as the rendering of παιδίσκη. It offends us.“A damsel named Rhoda,”577—and the“damsel possessed with a spirit of divination,”578—might (we think) have been let alone. But out of curiosity we look further, to see what these gentlemen will do when they come to S. Luke xii. 45. Here, because παῖδας has been (properly) rendered“menservants,”παιδίσκας, they (not unreasonably) render“maid-servants,”—wherebythey break their rule. The crucial[pg 196]place is behind. What will they do with the Divine“Allegory”in Galatians, (iv. 21 to 31,)—where all turns on the contrast579between the παιδίσκη and the ἐλευθέρα,—the fact that Hagar was a“bondmaid”whereas Sarah was a“free woman”?“Maid”clearly could not stand here.“Maid-servant”would be intolerable. What is to be done? The Revisionists adopta thirdvariety of reading,—thus surrendering their principle entirely. And what reader with a spark of taste, (we confidently ask the question,) does not resent their substitution of“handmaid”for“bondmaid”throughout these verses?Whowill deny that the mention of“bondage”in verses 24 and 25 claims, at the hands of an intelligent English translator, that he shall avail himself of the admirable and helpful equivalent for παιδίσκη which, as it happens, the English language possesses? More than that.Who—(except one who is himself“in bondage—with his children”)—whodoes not respond gratefully to the exquisite taste and tact with which“bondmaid”itself has been exchanged for“bondwoman”by our translators of 1611, in verses 23, 30 and 31?... Verily, those men understood their craft!“There were giants in those days.”As little would they submit to be bound by the new cords of the Philistines as by their green withes. Upon occasion, they could shake themselves free from either. And why? For the selfsame reason: viz. because theSpiritof theirGodwas mightily upon them.Our contention, so far, has been but this,—that it does not by any means follow that identical Greek words and expressions,wherever occurring, are to be rendered by identical words and expressions in English. We desire to pass on to something of more importance.[pg 197]Let it not be supposed that we make light of the difficulties which our Revisionists have had to encounter; or are wanting in generous appreciation of the conscientious toil of many men for many years; or that we overlook the perils of the enterprise in which they have seen fit to adventure their reputation. If ever a severe expression escapes us, it is because our Revisionists themselves seem to have so very imperfectly realized the responsibility of their undertaking, and the peculiar difficulties by which it is unavoidably beset. The truth is,—as all who have given real thought to the subject must be aware,—the phenomena of Language are among the most subtle and delicate imaginable: the problem of Translation, one of the most manysided and difficult that can be named. And if this holds universally, in how much greater a degree when the book to be translated isthe Bible! Here, anything like a mechanicallevelling upof terms, every attempt to impose a pre-arranged system of uniform rendering on words,—every one of which has a history and (so to speak)a willof its own,—is inevitably destined to result in discomfiture and disappointment. But what makes this so very serious a matter is that, becauseHoly Scriptureis the Book experimented upon, the loftiest interests that can be named become imperilled; and it will constantly happen that what is not perhaps in itself a very serious mistake may yet inflict irreparable injury. We subjoin an humble illustration of our meaning—the rather, because it will afford us an opportunity for penetrating a little deeper into the proprieties of Scriptural Translation:—(d) The place of ourLord'sBurial, which is mentioned upwards of 30 times in the Gospels, is styled in the original, μνημεῖον. This appellation is applied to it three times by S. Matthew;—six times by S. Mark;—eight times by[pg 198]S. Luke;580—eleven times by S. John. Only on four occasions, in close succession, does the first Evangelist call it by another name, viz. τάφος.581King James's translators (following Tyndale and Cranmer) decline to notice this diversity, and uniformly style it the“sepulchre.”So long as it belonged to Joseph of Arimathea, they call it a“tomb”(Matth. xxvii. 60): when once it has been appropriated by“theLordof Glory,”in the same versethey give it a different English appellation. But our Revisionists of 1881, as if bent on“making a fresh departure,”everywheresubstitute“tomb”for“sepulchre”as the rendering of μνημεῖον.Does any one ask,—And why should theynot? We answer, Because, in connection with“the Sepulchre”of ourLord, there has grown up such an ample literature and such a famous history, that we are no longerableto sever ourselves from those environments of the problem, even if we desired to do so. In all such cases as the present, we have to balance the Loss against the Gain. Quite idle is it for the pedant of 1881 to insist that τάφος and μνημεῖον are two different words. We do not dispute the fact. (Then, if hemust, let him represent τάφος in some other way.) It remains true, notwithstanding, that the receptacle of ourSaviour'sBody after His dissolution will have to be spoken of as“the Holy Sepulchre”till the end of time; and it is altogether to be desired that its familiar designation should be suffered to survive unmolested on the eternal page, in consequence. There are, after all, mightier laws in the Universe than those of grammar. In the quaint language of our Translators of 1611:“For is the Kingdom ofGodbecome words or syllables? Why should we be in bondage to them[pg 199]if we may be free?”... As for considerations of etymological propriety, the nearest English equivalent for μνημεῖον (be it remembered) isnot“tomb,”but“monument.”(e) Our Revisionists seem not to be aware that 270 years of undisturbed possession have given to certain words rights to which they could not else have pretended, but of which it is impossible any more to dispossess them. It savours of folly as well as of pedantry even to make the attempt. Διδαχή occurs 30,—διδασκαλία 21 times,—in the N. T. Etymologically, both words alike mean“teaching;”and are therefore indifferently rendered“doctrina”in the Vulgate,582—for which reason,“doctrine”represents both words indifferently in our A. V.583But the Revisers have well-nigh extirpated“doctrine”from the N. T.: (1st), By making“teaching,”the rendering of διδαχή,584—(reserving“doctrine”for διδασκαλία585): and (2ndly), By 6 times substituting“teaching”(once,“learning”) for“doctrine,”in places where διδασκαλία occurs.586This is to be lamented every way. The word cannot be spared so often. The“teachings”of ourLordand of His Apostles werethe“doctrines”of Christianity. When S. Paul speaks of“thedoctrineof baptisms”(Heb. vi. 2), it is simply incomprehensible to us why“theteachingof baptisms”should be deemed a preferable expression. And if the warning against being“carried about with every wind ofdoctrine,”may stand in Ephes. iv. 14, why may it not be left standing in Heb. xiii. 9?[pg 200](f) In the same spirit, we can but wonder at the extravagant bad taste which, at the end of 500 years, has ventured to substitute“bowls”for“vials”in the Book of Revelation.587As a matter of fact, we venture to point out that φιάλη no more means“a bowl”than“saucer”means“a cup.”But, waiving this, we are confident that our Revisers would have shown more wisdom if they hadlet alonea word which, having no English equivalent, has passed into the sacred vocabulary of the language, and has acquired a conventional signification which will cleave to it for ever.“Vials of wrath”are understood to signify the outpouring ofGod'swrathful visitations on mankind: whereas“bowls”really conveys no meaning at all, except a mean and unworthy, not to say an inconveniently ambiguous one. What must be the impression made on persons of very humble station,—labouring-men,—when they hear of“the seven Angels that hadthe seven bowls”? (Rev. xvii. 1.) The φιάλη,—if we must needs talk like Antiquaries—is a circular, almost flat and very shallow vessel,—of which the contents can be discharged in an instant. It was used in pouring out libations. There is, at that back of it, in the centre, a hollow for the first joint of the forefinger to rest in.Paterathe Latins called it. Specimens are to be seen in abundance.The same Revisionists have also fallen foul of the“alabasterboxof ointment.”—for which they have substituted“an alabastercruseof ointment.”588But whatisa“cruse”? Their marginal note says,“Or,‘a flask:’”but once more, whatis“a flask”? Certainly, the receptacles to which that name is now commonly applied, (e.g.a powder-flask, a Florence flask, a flask of wine, &c.) bear no resemblance whatever to the vase called ἀλάβαστρον. The probability is[pg 201]that the receptacle for the precious ointment with which the sister of Lazarus provided herself, was likest of all to a small medicine-bottle (lecythusthe ancients called it), made however of alabaster. Specimens of it abound. But why not let such words alone? The same Critics have had the good sense to leave standing“the bag,”for what was confessedly abox589(S. John xii. 6: xiii. 29); and“your purses”for what in the Greek is unmistakably“yourgirdles”590(S. Matth. x. 9). We can but repeat that possession forfive centuriesconveys rights which it is always useless, and sometimes dangerous, to dispute.“Vials”will certainly have to be put back into the Apocalypse.(g) Having said so much about the proposed rendering of such unpromising vocables as μνημεῖον—διδαχή—φιάλη, it is time to invite the Reader's attention to the calamitous fate which has befallen certain other words of infinitely greater importance.And first for Ἀγάπη—a substantive noun unknown to the heathen, even as the sentiment which the word expresses proves to be a grace of purely Christian growth. What else but a real calamity would be the sentence of perpetual banishment passed by our Revisionists on“that most excellent gift, the gift ofCharity,”and the general substitution of“Love”in its place? Do not these learned men perceive that“Love”is not an equivalent term? Can they require to be told that, because of S. Paul's exquisite and life-like portrait of“Charity,”and the use which has been made of the word in sacred literature in consequence, it has come to pass that the word“Charity”connotes many ideas to which the word“Love”is an entire stranger? that“Love,”on the contrary, has come to connote many unworthy notions which in“Charity”find no place at all? And if this be[pg 202]so, how can our Revisionists expect that we shall endure the loss of the name of the very choicest of the Christian graces,—and which, if it is nowhere to be found in Scripture, will presently come to be only traditionally known among mankind, and will in the end cease to be a term clearly understood? Have the Revisionists of 1881 considered how firmly this word“Charity”has established itself in the phraseology of the Church,—ancient, mediæval, modern,—as well as in our Book of Common Prayer? how thoroughly it has vindicated for itself the right of citizenship in the English language? how it has entered into our common vocabulary, and become one of the best understood of“household words”? Of what can they have been thinking when they deliberately obliterated from the thirteenth chapter of S. Paul's 1st Epistle to the Corinthians the ninefold recurrence of the name of“that most excellent gift, the gift ofCharity”?(h) With equal displeasure, but with even sadder feelings, we recognize in the present Revision a resolute elimination of“Miracles”from the N. T.—Not so, (we shall be eagerly reminded,) but only of theirName. True, but the two perforce go together, as every thoughtful man knows. At all events, the getting rid ofthe Name,—(except in the few instances which are enumerated below,)—will in the account of millions be regarded as the getting rid ofthe thing. And in the esteem of all, learned and unlearned alike, the systematic obliteration of the signifying word from the pages of that Book to which we refer exclusively for our knowledge of the remarkable thing signified,—cannot but be looked upon as a memorable and momentous circumstance. Some, it may be, will be chiefly struck by the foolishness of the proceeding: for at the end of centuries of familiarity with such a word, we are no longerableto part company with it, even if we were inclined. The term[pg 203]has struck root firmly in our Literature: has established itself in the terminology of Divines: has grown into our common speech. But further, even were it possible to get rid of the words“Miracle”and“Miraculous,”what else but abiding inconvenience would be the result? for we must still desire to speak aboutthe things; and it is a truism to remark that there are no other words in the language which connote the same ideas. What therefore has been gained by substituting“sign”for“miracle”on some 19 or 20 occasions—(“this beginning ofhis signsdidJesus,”—“this is again thesecond signthatJesusdid”)—we really fail to see.That the word in the original is σημεῖον, and that σημεῖον means“a sign,”we are aware. But what then? Because ἄγγελος, in strictness, means“a messenger,”—γραφή,“a writing,”—ὑποκριτής,“an actor,”—ἐκκλησία,“an assembly,”—εὐαγγέλιον,“good tidings,”—ἐπίσκοπος,“an overseer,”—βαπτιστής,“one that dips,”—παράδεισος,“a garden,”—μαθητής,“a learner,”—χἁρις,“favour:”—are we to forego the established English equivalents for these words, and never more to hear of“grace,”“disciple,”“Paradise,”“Baptist,”“Bishop,”“Gospel,”“Church,”“hypocrite,”“Scripture,”“Angel”? Is it then desired to revolutionize our sacred terminology? or at all events to sever with the Past, and to translate the Scriptures into English on etymological principles? We are amazed that the first proposal to resort to such a preposterous method was not instantly scouted by a large majority of those who frequented the Jerusalem Chamber.The words under consideration are not only not equivalent, but they are quite dissimilar. All“signs”are not“Miracles,”591though all“Miracles”are undeniably“signs.”[pg 204]Would not a marginal annotation concerning the original word, as at S. Luke xxiii. 8, have sufficed? Andwhywas the term“Miracle”as the rendering of σημεῖον592spared only onthatoccasion in the Gospels; andonlyin connection with S. Peter's miracle of healing the impotent man, in the Acts?593We ask the question not caring for an answer. We are merely bent on submitting to our Readers, whether,—especially in an age like the present of wide-spread unbelief in the Miraculous,—it was a judicious proceeding in our Revisionists almost everywhere to substitute“Sign”for“Miracle”as the rendering of σημεῖον.(i) Every bit as offensive, in its way, is a marginal note respecting the Third Person in the Trinity, which does duty at S. Matth. i. 18: S. Mark i. 8: S. Luke i. 15: Acts i. 2: Rom. v. 5: Heb. ii. 4. As a rule, in short, against every fresh first mention of“theHoly Ghost,”five lines are punctually devoted to the remark,—“Or, Holy Spirit:and so throughout this book.”Now, as Canon Cook very fairly puts the case,—
“They seem”—(he says, speaking of the Revisionists of 1611)—“to have been guided by the feeling that their Version would secure for the words they used a lasting place in the language; and they express a fear lest they should‘be charged (by scoffers) with some unequal dealing towards a great number of good English words,’which, without this liberty on their part, would not have a place in the pages of the English Bible. Still it cannot be doubted that their studied avoidance of uniformity in the rendering of the same words, even when occurring in the same context, is one of the blemishes in their work.”—Preface, (i. 2).
Yes, it cannot be doubted. When S. Paul, in a long and familiar passage (2 Cor. i. 3-7), is observed studiously to[pg 190]linger over the same word (παράκλησις namely, which is generally rendered“comfort”);—to harp upon it;—to reproduce itten timesin the course of those five verses;—it seems unreasonable that a Translator, as if in defiance of the Apostle, should on four occasions (viz. when the word comes back for the 6th, 7th, 9th, and 10th times), for“comfort”substitute“consolation.”And this one example may serve as well as a hundred. It would really seem as if the Revisionists of 1611 had considered it a graceful achievement to vary the English phrase even on occasions where a marked identity of expression characterizes the original Greek. When we find them turning“goodly apparel,”(in S. James ii. 2,) into“gay clothing,”(in ver. 3,)—we can but conjecture that they conceived themselves at liberty to act exactly as S. James himself would (possibly) have acted had he been writing English.
But if the learned men who gave us our A. V. may be thought to have erred on the side of excess, there can be no doubt whatever, (at least among competent judges,) that our Revisionists have sinned far more grievously and with greater injury to the Deposit, by their slavish proclivity to the opposite form of error. We must needs speak out plainly: for the question before us is not, What defects are discoverable in our Authorized Version?—but, What amount of gain would be likely to accrue to the Church if the present Revision were accepted as a substitute? And we assert without hesitation, that the amount of certain loss would so largely outweigh the amount of possible gain, that the proposal may not be seriously entertained for a moment. As well on grounds of Scholarship and Taste, as of Textual Criticism (as explained at large in our former Article), the work before us is immensely inferior. To speak plainly, it is an utter failure.
XI. For the respected Authors of it practically deny the truth of the principle enunciated by their predecessors of 1611, viz. that“there be some words that be not of the same sense everywhere.”On such a fundamental truism we are ashamed to enlarge: but it becomes necessary that we should do so. We proceed to illustrate, by two familiar instances,—the first which come to hand,—the mischievous result which is inevitable to an enforced uniformity of rendering.
(a) The verb αἰτεῖν confessedly means“to ask.”And perhaps no better general English equivalent could be suggested for it. But then,in a certain context,“ask”would be an inadequate rendering: in another, it would be improper: in a third, it would be simply intolerable. Of all this, the great Scholars of 1611 showed themselves profoundly conscious. Accordingly, when this same verb (in the middle voice) is employed to describe how the clamorous rabble, besieging Pilate, claimed their accustomed privilege, (viz. to have the prisoner of their choice released unto them,) those ancient men, with a fine instinct, retain Tyndale's rendering“desired”569in S. Mark (xv. 8),—and his“required”in S. Luke (xxiii. 23).—When, however, the humble entreaty, which Joseph of Arimathea addressed to the same Pilate (viz. that he might be allowed to take away the Body ofJesus), is in question, then the same Scholars (following Tyndale and Cranmer), with the same propriety exhibit“begged.”—King David, inasmuch as he only“desiredto find a habitation for theGodof Jacob,”of course may not be said to have“asked”to do so; and yet S. Stephen (Acts vii. 46) does not hesitate to employ the verb ᾐτήσατο.—So again, when they of Tyre and Sidon approached Herod whom they had offended: they[pg 192]did but“desire”peace.570—S. Paul, in like manner, addressing the Ephesians:“Idesirethat ye faint not at my tribulations for you.”571
But our Revisionists,—possessed with the single idea that αἰτεῖν means“toask”and αἰτεῖσθαι“toask for,”—have proceeded mechanically to inflict that rendering on every one of the foregoing passages. In defiance of propriety,—of reason,—even (in David's case) of historical truth,572—they have thrust in“asked”everywhere. At last, however, they are encountered by two places which absolutely refuse to submit to such iron bondage. The terror-stricken jailer of Philippi, whenhe“asked”for lights, must needs have done so after a truly imperious fashion. Accordingly, the“called for”573of Tyndale and all subsequent translators, ispro hâc viceallowed by our Revisionists to stand. And to conclude,—When S. Paul, speaking of his supplications on behalf of the Christians at Colosse, uses this same verb (αἰτούμενοι) in a context where“to ask”would be intolerable, our Revisionists render the word“to make request;”574—though they might just as well have let alone the rendering ofalltheir predecessors,—viz.“to desire.”
These are many words, but we know not how to make them fewer. Let this one example, (only because it is the first which presented itself,) stand for a thousand others. Apart from the grievous lack of Taste (not to say of Scholarship) which such a method betrays,—whosees not that the only excuse which could have been invented for it has[pg 193]disappeared by the time we reach the end of our investigation? If αἰτέω, αἰτοῦμαι had beeninvariablytranslated“ask,”“ask for,”it might at least have been pretended that“the English Reader is in this way put entirely on a level with the Greek Scholar;”—though it would have been a vain pretence, as all must admit who understand the power of language.Oncemake it apparent that just in a single place, perhaps in two, the Translator found himself forced to break through his rigid uniformity of rendering,—andwhatremains but an uneasy suspicion that then there must have been a strain put on the Evangelists' meaning in a vast proportion of the other seventy places where αἰτεῖν occurs? An unlearned reader's confidence in his guide vanishes; and he finds that he has had not a few deflections from the Authorized Version thrust upon him, of which he reasonably questions alike the taste and the necessity,—e.g.at S. Matth. xx. 20.
(b) But take a more interesting example. In S. Mark i. 18, the A. V. has,“and straightway theyforsook”(which the Revisionists alter into“left”)“their nets.”Why? Because in verse 20, the same word ἀφέντες will recur; and because the Revisionists propose to let the statement (“theylefttheir father Zebedee”) stand. They“level up”accordingly; and plume themselves on their consistency.
We venture to point out, however, that the verb ἀφιέναι is one of a large family of verbs which,—always retaining their own essential signification,—yet depend for their English rendering entirely on the context in which they occur. Thus, ἀφιέναι is rightly rendered“to suffer,”in S. Matth. iii. 15;—“to leave,”in iv. 11;—“to let have,”in v. 40;—“to forgive,”in vi. 12, 14, 15;—“to let,”in vii. 4;—“to yield up,”in xxvii. 50;—“to let go,”in S. Mark xi. 6;—“to let alone,”in xiv. 6. Here then, by the admission of the Revisionists,[pg 194]are eight diversities of meaning in the same word. But they make the admission grudgingly; and, in order to render ἀφιέναι as often as possible“leave,”they do violence to many a place of Scripture where some other word would have been more appropriate. Thus“laying aside”might have stood in S. Mark vii. 8.“Suffered”(or“let”) was preferable in S. Luke xii. 39. And, (to return to the place from which we started,) in S. Mark i. 18,“forsook”was better than“left.”And why? Because men“leavetheir father,”(as the Collect for S. James's Day bears witness); but“forsakeall covetous desires”(as the Collect for S. Matthew's Day aptly attests). For which reason,—“And they allforsookHim”was infinitely preferable to“and they allleftHim, and fled,”in S. Mark xiv. 50. We insist that a vast deal more is lost by this perpetual disregard of the idiomatic proprieties of the English language, than is gained by a pedantic striving after uniformity of rendering, only because the Greek word happens to be the same.
For it is sure sometimes to happen that what seems mere licentiousness proves on closer inspection to be unobtrusive Scholarship of the best kind. An illustration presents itself in connection with the word just now before us. It is found to have been ourSaviour'spractice to“send away”the multitude whom He had been feeding or teaching, in some formal manner,—whether with an act of solemn benediction, or words of commendatory prayer, or both. Accordingly, on the memorable occasion when, at the close of a long day of superhuman exertion, His bodily powers succumbed, and the Disciples were fain to take Him“as He was”in the ship, and at once He“fell asleep;”—on that solitary occasion,the Disciplesare related to have“sent awaythe multitudes,”—i.e.to have formally dismissed them on His behalf, as they had often seen their Master do. The[pg 195]word employed to designate this practice on two memorable occasions is ἀπολύειν:575on the other two, ἀφιέναι.576This proves to have been perfectly well understood as well by the learned authors of the Latin Version of the N. T., as by the scholars who translated the Gospels into the vernacular of Palestine. It has been reserved for the boasted learning of the XIXth century to misunderstand this little circumstance entirely. The R. V. renders S. Matth. xiii. 36,—not“ThenJesussent the multitude away”(“dimissis turbis”in every Latin copy,) but—“Then Heleftthe multitudes.”Also S. Mark iv. 36,—not“And when they hadsent away the multitude,”(which the Latin always renders“et dimittentes turbam,”) but—“Andleavingthe multitude.”Would it be altogether creditable, we respectfully ask, if at the end of 1800 years the Church of England were to put forth with authority such specimens of“Revision”as these?
(c) We will trouble our Readers with yet another illustration of the principle for which we are contending.—We are soon made conscious that there has been a fidgetty anxiety on the part of the Revisionists, everywhere to substitute“maid”for“damsel”as the rendering of παιδίσκη. It offends us.“A damsel named Rhoda,”577—and the“damsel possessed with a spirit of divination,”578—might (we think) have been let alone. But out of curiosity we look further, to see what these gentlemen will do when they come to S. Luke xii. 45. Here, because παῖδας has been (properly) rendered“menservants,”παιδίσκας, they (not unreasonably) render“maid-servants,”—wherebythey break their rule. The crucial[pg 196]place is behind. What will they do with the Divine“Allegory”in Galatians, (iv. 21 to 31,)—where all turns on the contrast579between the παιδίσκη and the ἐλευθέρα,—the fact that Hagar was a“bondmaid”whereas Sarah was a“free woman”?“Maid”clearly could not stand here.“Maid-servant”would be intolerable. What is to be done? The Revisionists adopta thirdvariety of reading,—thus surrendering their principle entirely. And what reader with a spark of taste, (we confidently ask the question,) does not resent their substitution of“handmaid”for“bondmaid”throughout these verses?Whowill deny that the mention of“bondage”in verses 24 and 25 claims, at the hands of an intelligent English translator, that he shall avail himself of the admirable and helpful equivalent for παιδίσκη which, as it happens, the English language possesses? More than that.Who—(except one who is himself“in bondage—with his children”)—whodoes not respond gratefully to the exquisite taste and tact with which“bondmaid”itself has been exchanged for“bondwoman”by our translators of 1611, in verses 23, 30 and 31?... Verily, those men understood their craft!“There were giants in those days.”As little would they submit to be bound by the new cords of the Philistines as by their green withes. Upon occasion, they could shake themselves free from either. And why? For the selfsame reason: viz. because theSpiritof theirGodwas mightily upon them.
Our contention, so far, has been but this,—that it does not by any means follow that identical Greek words and expressions,wherever occurring, are to be rendered by identical words and expressions in English. We desire to pass on to something of more importance.
Let it not be supposed that we make light of the difficulties which our Revisionists have had to encounter; or are wanting in generous appreciation of the conscientious toil of many men for many years; or that we overlook the perils of the enterprise in which they have seen fit to adventure their reputation. If ever a severe expression escapes us, it is because our Revisionists themselves seem to have so very imperfectly realized the responsibility of their undertaking, and the peculiar difficulties by which it is unavoidably beset. The truth is,—as all who have given real thought to the subject must be aware,—the phenomena of Language are among the most subtle and delicate imaginable: the problem of Translation, one of the most manysided and difficult that can be named. And if this holds universally, in how much greater a degree when the book to be translated isthe Bible! Here, anything like a mechanicallevelling upof terms, every attempt to impose a pre-arranged system of uniform rendering on words,—every one of which has a history and (so to speak)a willof its own,—is inevitably destined to result in discomfiture and disappointment. But what makes this so very serious a matter is that, becauseHoly Scriptureis the Book experimented upon, the loftiest interests that can be named become imperilled; and it will constantly happen that what is not perhaps in itself a very serious mistake may yet inflict irreparable injury. We subjoin an humble illustration of our meaning—the rather, because it will afford us an opportunity for penetrating a little deeper into the proprieties of Scriptural Translation:—
(d) The place of ourLord'sBurial, which is mentioned upwards of 30 times in the Gospels, is styled in the original, μνημεῖον. This appellation is applied to it three times by S. Matthew;—six times by S. Mark;—eight times by[pg 198]S. Luke;580—eleven times by S. John. Only on four occasions, in close succession, does the first Evangelist call it by another name, viz. τάφος.581King James's translators (following Tyndale and Cranmer) decline to notice this diversity, and uniformly style it the“sepulchre.”So long as it belonged to Joseph of Arimathea, they call it a“tomb”(Matth. xxvii. 60): when once it has been appropriated by“theLordof Glory,”in the same versethey give it a different English appellation. But our Revisionists of 1881, as if bent on“making a fresh departure,”everywheresubstitute“tomb”for“sepulchre”as the rendering of μνημεῖον.
Does any one ask,—And why should theynot? We answer, Because, in connection with“the Sepulchre”of ourLord, there has grown up such an ample literature and such a famous history, that we are no longerableto sever ourselves from those environments of the problem, even if we desired to do so. In all such cases as the present, we have to balance the Loss against the Gain. Quite idle is it for the pedant of 1881 to insist that τάφος and μνημεῖον are two different words. We do not dispute the fact. (Then, if hemust, let him represent τάφος in some other way.) It remains true, notwithstanding, that the receptacle of ourSaviour'sBody after His dissolution will have to be spoken of as“the Holy Sepulchre”till the end of time; and it is altogether to be desired that its familiar designation should be suffered to survive unmolested on the eternal page, in consequence. There are, after all, mightier laws in the Universe than those of grammar. In the quaint language of our Translators of 1611:“For is the Kingdom ofGodbecome words or syllables? Why should we be in bondage to them[pg 199]if we may be free?”... As for considerations of etymological propriety, the nearest English equivalent for μνημεῖον (be it remembered) isnot“tomb,”but“monument.”
(e) Our Revisionists seem not to be aware that 270 years of undisturbed possession have given to certain words rights to which they could not else have pretended, but of which it is impossible any more to dispossess them. It savours of folly as well as of pedantry even to make the attempt. Διδαχή occurs 30,—διδασκαλία 21 times,—in the N. T. Etymologically, both words alike mean“teaching;”and are therefore indifferently rendered“doctrina”in the Vulgate,582—for which reason,“doctrine”represents both words indifferently in our A. V.583But the Revisers have well-nigh extirpated“doctrine”from the N. T.: (1st), By making“teaching,”the rendering of διδαχή,584—(reserving“doctrine”for διδασκαλία585): and (2ndly), By 6 times substituting“teaching”(once,“learning”) for“doctrine,”in places where διδασκαλία occurs.586This is to be lamented every way. The word cannot be spared so often. The“teachings”of ourLordand of His Apostles werethe“doctrines”of Christianity. When S. Paul speaks of“thedoctrineof baptisms”(Heb. vi. 2), it is simply incomprehensible to us why“theteachingof baptisms”should be deemed a preferable expression. And if the warning against being“carried about with every wind ofdoctrine,”may stand in Ephes. iv. 14, why may it not be left standing in Heb. xiii. 9?
(f) In the same spirit, we can but wonder at the extravagant bad taste which, at the end of 500 years, has ventured to substitute“bowls”for“vials”in the Book of Revelation.587As a matter of fact, we venture to point out that φιάλη no more means“a bowl”than“saucer”means“a cup.”But, waiving this, we are confident that our Revisers would have shown more wisdom if they hadlet alonea word which, having no English equivalent, has passed into the sacred vocabulary of the language, and has acquired a conventional signification which will cleave to it for ever.“Vials of wrath”are understood to signify the outpouring ofGod'swrathful visitations on mankind: whereas“bowls”really conveys no meaning at all, except a mean and unworthy, not to say an inconveniently ambiguous one. What must be the impression made on persons of very humble station,—labouring-men,—when they hear of“the seven Angels that hadthe seven bowls”? (Rev. xvii. 1.) The φιάλη,—if we must needs talk like Antiquaries—is a circular, almost flat and very shallow vessel,—of which the contents can be discharged in an instant. It was used in pouring out libations. There is, at that back of it, in the centre, a hollow for the first joint of the forefinger to rest in.Paterathe Latins called it. Specimens are to be seen in abundance.
The same Revisionists have also fallen foul of the“alabasterboxof ointment.”—for which they have substituted“an alabastercruseof ointment.”588But whatisa“cruse”? Their marginal note says,“Or,‘a flask:’”but once more, whatis“a flask”? Certainly, the receptacles to which that name is now commonly applied, (e.g.a powder-flask, a Florence flask, a flask of wine, &c.) bear no resemblance whatever to the vase called ἀλάβαστρον. The probability is[pg 201]that the receptacle for the precious ointment with which the sister of Lazarus provided herself, was likest of all to a small medicine-bottle (lecythusthe ancients called it), made however of alabaster. Specimens of it abound. But why not let such words alone? The same Critics have had the good sense to leave standing“the bag,”for what was confessedly abox589(S. John xii. 6: xiii. 29); and“your purses”for what in the Greek is unmistakably“yourgirdles”590(S. Matth. x. 9). We can but repeat that possession forfive centuriesconveys rights which it is always useless, and sometimes dangerous, to dispute.“Vials”will certainly have to be put back into the Apocalypse.
(g) Having said so much about the proposed rendering of such unpromising vocables as μνημεῖον—διδαχή—φιάλη, it is time to invite the Reader's attention to the calamitous fate which has befallen certain other words of infinitely greater importance.
And first for Ἀγάπη—a substantive noun unknown to the heathen, even as the sentiment which the word expresses proves to be a grace of purely Christian growth. What else but a real calamity would be the sentence of perpetual banishment passed by our Revisionists on“that most excellent gift, the gift ofCharity,”and the general substitution of“Love”in its place? Do not these learned men perceive that“Love”is not an equivalent term? Can they require to be told that, because of S. Paul's exquisite and life-like portrait of“Charity,”and the use which has been made of the word in sacred literature in consequence, it has come to pass that the word“Charity”connotes many ideas to which the word“Love”is an entire stranger? that“Love,”on the contrary, has come to connote many unworthy notions which in“Charity”find no place at all? And if this be[pg 202]so, how can our Revisionists expect that we shall endure the loss of the name of the very choicest of the Christian graces,—and which, if it is nowhere to be found in Scripture, will presently come to be only traditionally known among mankind, and will in the end cease to be a term clearly understood? Have the Revisionists of 1881 considered how firmly this word“Charity”has established itself in the phraseology of the Church,—ancient, mediæval, modern,—as well as in our Book of Common Prayer? how thoroughly it has vindicated for itself the right of citizenship in the English language? how it has entered into our common vocabulary, and become one of the best understood of“household words”? Of what can they have been thinking when they deliberately obliterated from the thirteenth chapter of S. Paul's 1st Epistle to the Corinthians the ninefold recurrence of the name of“that most excellent gift, the gift ofCharity”?
(h) With equal displeasure, but with even sadder feelings, we recognize in the present Revision a resolute elimination of“Miracles”from the N. T.—Not so, (we shall be eagerly reminded,) but only of theirName. True, but the two perforce go together, as every thoughtful man knows. At all events, the getting rid ofthe Name,—(except in the few instances which are enumerated below,)—will in the account of millions be regarded as the getting rid ofthe thing. And in the esteem of all, learned and unlearned alike, the systematic obliteration of the signifying word from the pages of that Book to which we refer exclusively for our knowledge of the remarkable thing signified,—cannot but be looked upon as a memorable and momentous circumstance. Some, it may be, will be chiefly struck by the foolishness of the proceeding: for at the end of centuries of familiarity with such a word, we are no longerableto part company with it, even if we were inclined. The term[pg 203]has struck root firmly in our Literature: has established itself in the terminology of Divines: has grown into our common speech. But further, even were it possible to get rid of the words“Miracle”and“Miraculous,”what else but abiding inconvenience would be the result? for we must still desire to speak aboutthe things; and it is a truism to remark that there are no other words in the language which connote the same ideas. What therefore has been gained by substituting“sign”for“miracle”on some 19 or 20 occasions—(“this beginning ofhis signsdidJesus,”—“this is again thesecond signthatJesusdid”)—we really fail to see.
That the word in the original is σημεῖον, and that σημεῖον means“a sign,”we are aware. But what then? Because ἄγγελος, in strictness, means“a messenger,”—γραφή,“a writing,”—ὑποκριτής,“an actor,”—ἐκκλησία,“an assembly,”—εὐαγγέλιον,“good tidings,”—ἐπίσκοπος,“an overseer,”—βαπτιστής,“one that dips,”—παράδεισος,“a garden,”—μαθητής,“a learner,”—χἁρις,“favour:”—are we to forego the established English equivalents for these words, and never more to hear of“grace,”“disciple,”“Paradise,”“Baptist,”“Bishop,”“Gospel,”“Church,”“hypocrite,”“Scripture,”“Angel”? Is it then desired to revolutionize our sacred terminology? or at all events to sever with the Past, and to translate the Scriptures into English on etymological principles? We are amazed that the first proposal to resort to such a preposterous method was not instantly scouted by a large majority of those who frequented the Jerusalem Chamber.
The words under consideration are not only not equivalent, but they are quite dissimilar. All“signs”are not“Miracles,”591though all“Miracles”are undeniably“signs.”[pg 204]Would not a marginal annotation concerning the original word, as at S. Luke xxiii. 8, have sufficed? Andwhywas the term“Miracle”as the rendering of σημεῖον592spared only onthatoccasion in the Gospels; andonlyin connection with S. Peter's miracle of healing the impotent man, in the Acts?593We ask the question not caring for an answer. We are merely bent on submitting to our Readers, whether,—especially in an age like the present of wide-spread unbelief in the Miraculous,—it was a judicious proceeding in our Revisionists almost everywhere to substitute“Sign”for“Miracle”as the rendering of σημεῖον.
(i) Every bit as offensive, in its way, is a marginal note respecting the Third Person in the Trinity, which does duty at S. Matth. i. 18: S. Mark i. 8: S. Luke i. 15: Acts i. 2: Rom. v. 5: Heb. ii. 4. As a rule, in short, against every fresh first mention of“theHoly Ghost,”five lines are punctually devoted to the remark,—“Or, Holy Spirit:and so throughout this book.”Now, as Canon Cook very fairly puts the case,—