(5) Under which of the four previous “groups” certain Annotations which disfigure the margin of the first chapter of [pg 186] S. Matthew's Gospel, should fall,—we know not. Let them be briefly considered by themselves.
So dull of comprehension are we, that we fail to see on what principle it is stated that—“Ram,” “Asa,” “Amon,” “Shealtiel,” are in Greek (“Gr.”) “Aram,” “Asaph,” “Amos,” “Salathiel.” For (1),—Surely it was just as needful (or just as needless) to explain that “Perez,” “Zarah,” “Hezron,” “Nahson,” are in Greek “Phares,” “Zara,” “Esrom,” “Naasson.”—But (2), Through what “necessity” are the names, which we have been hitherto contented to read as the Evangelist wrote them, now exhibited on the first page of the Gospel in any other way?[568]—(3) Assuming, however, the O. T. spelling is to be adopted, then let us have it explained to us why “Jeconiah” in ver. 11 is not written “Jehoiakim”? (As for “Jeconiah” in ver. 12,—it was for the Revisionists to settle whether they would call him “Jehoiachin,” “Jeconiah,” or “Coniah.” [By the way,—Is it lawful to suppose that they did not know that “Jechonias” here represents two different persons?])—On the other hand, (4) “Amos” probably,—“Asaph” certainly,—are corrupt exhibitions of “Amon” and “Asa:” and, if noticed at all, should have been introduced to the reader's notice with the customary formula, “some ancient authorities,” &c.—To proceed—(5), Why substitute “Immanuel” (for “Emmanuel”) in ver. 23,—only to have to state in the margin that S. Matthew writes it “Emmanuel”? By strict parity of reasoning, against “Naphtali” (in ch. iv. 13, 15), the Revisionists ought to have written “Gr. Nephthaleim.”—And (6), If this is to be the rule, then why are we not told that [pg 187] “Mary is in ‘Gr. Mariam’ ”? and why is not Zacharias written “Zachariah”?... But (to conclude),—What is the object of all this officiousness? and (its unavoidable adjunct) all this inconsistency? Has the spelling of the 42 names been revolutionized, in order to sever with the Past and to make “a fresh departure”? Or were the four marginal notes added only for the sake of obtaining, by a side-wind, the (apparent) sanction of the Church to the preposterous notion that “Asa” was written “Asaph” by the Evangelist—in conformity with six MSS. of bad character, but in defiance of History, documentary Evidence, and internal Probability? Canon Cook [pp. 23-24] has some important remarks on this.
X. We must needs advert again to the ominous admission made in the Revisionists' Preface (iii. 2 init.), that to some extent they recognized the duty of a “rigid adherence to the rule of translating, as far as possible, the same Greek word by the same English word.” This mistaken principle of theirs lies at the root of so much of the mischief which has befallen the Authorized Version, that it calls for fuller consideration at our hands than it has hitherto (viz. at pp. [138] and [152]) received.
The “Translators” of 1611, towards the close of their long and quaint Address “to the Reader,” offer the following statement concerning what had been their own practice:—“We have not tied ourselves” (say they) “to an uniformity of phrasing, or to an identity of words, as some peradventure would wish that we had done.” On this, they presently enlarge. We have been “especially careful,” have even “made a conscience,” “not to vary from the sense of that which we had translated before, if the word signified the same thing in both places.” But then, (as they shrewdly point out in passing,) “there be some words that be not of the [pg 188] same sense everywhere.” And had this been the sum of their avowal, no one with a spark of Taste, or with the least appreciation of what constitutes real Scholarship, would have been found to differ from them. Nay, even when they go on to explain that they have not thought it desirable to insist on invariably expressing “the same notion” by employing “the same particular word;”—(which they illustrate by instancing terms which, in their account, may with advantage be diversely rendered in different places;)—we are still disposed to avow ourselves of their mind. “If” (say they,) “we translate the Hebrew or Greek word once purpose, never to call it intent; if one where journeying, never travelling; if one where think, never suppose; if one where pain, never ache; if one where joy, never gladness;—thus to mince the matter, we thought to savour more of curiosity than of wisdom.” And yet it is plain that a different principle is here indicated from that which went before. The remark “that niceness in words was always counted the next step to trifling,” suggests that, in the Translators' opinion, it matters little which word, in the several pairs of words they instance, is employed; and that, for their own parts, they rather rejoice in the ease and freedom which an ample vocabulary supplies to a Translator of Holy Scripture. Here also however, as already hinted, we are disposed to go along with them. Rhythm, subtle associations of thought, proprieties of diction which are rather to be felt than analysed,—any of such causes may reasonably determine a Translator to reject “purpose,” “journey,” “think,” “pain,” “joy,”—in favour of “intent,” “travel,” “suppose,” “ache,” “gladness.”
But then it speedily becomes evident that, at the bottom of all this, there existed in the minds of the Revisionists of 1611 a profound (shall we not rather say a prophetic?) consciousness, that the fate of the English [pg 189] Language itself was bound up with the fate of their Translation. Hence their reluctance to incur the responsibility of tying themselves “to an uniformity of phrasing, or to an identity of words.” We should be liable to censure (such is their plain avowal), “if we should say, as it were, unto certain words, Stand up higher, have a place in the Bible always; and to others of like quality, Get you hence, be banished for ever.” But this, to say the least, is to introduce a distinct and a somewhat novel consideration. We would not be thought to deny that there is some—perhaps a great deal—of truth in it: but by this time we seem to have entirely shifted our ground. And we more than suspect that, if a jury of English scholars of the highest mark could be impanelled to declare their mind on the subject thus submitted to their judgment, there would be practical unanimity among them in declaring, that these learned men,—with whom all would avow hearty sympathy, and whose taste and skill all would eagerly acknowledge,—have occasionally pushed the license they enunciate so vigorously, a little—perhaps a great deal—too far. For ourselves, we are glad to be able to subscribe cordially to the sentiment on this head expressed by the author of the Preface of 1881:
“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 it ten times in 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”[569] in 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 of Jesus), is in question, then the same Scholars (following Tyndale and Cranmer), with the same propriety exhibit “begged.”—King David, inasmuch as he only “desired to find a habitation for the God of 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: “I desire that ye faint not at my tribulations for you.”[571]