Hmph! It’s about 8:30, and my Internet connection is down at the moment (what on earth did people do to waste time before!?), so to occupy a moment or two, how about another slice of the 1901 edition of Everybody’s Writing-Desk Book!

Last week, we had a paragraph about the characteristics of poetry—today’s episode is a continuation of that topic entitled:

Poetry earlier than Prose.—Poetry, it has also to be remembered, is a culture of earlier date than prose; and while Elizabethan poetry represents a comparatively advanced, Elizabethan prose represents a comparatively rudimentary, development. Prose, again, which is the language more of the average mood and addressed more to the average sense, is so much more subject to time and place, and therefore reflects so much more than poetry the general literary culture of the period wherein it is written.

Poetry and Prose of the Elizabethan Writers.—The Elizabethan poets who write poetry transcending criticism write also noble and majestic prose. Yet are their sentences in prose far from being so clear and perfect of construction as are their sentences in poetry. Their prose sentences, compared with those of the best writers of our day, are in general very long, and the modern reader is often nearly (sometimes altogether) out of breath before arriving at the end of one. The sentences of Milton’s poetry, too, are indeed generally of an ample size, but also, as a rule, of the most symmetrical construction; nor is the cultivated reader ever at a loss to comprehend the mutual harmony (in sense as in sound) of their component parts. The most formidable names (as those of the heathen gods) are subdued into sweet consonance in sound and sense with all the richly musical context. The sentences of Milton’s prose, on the other hand, always masculine indeed, are yet often so long-winded and involved as to fatigue all but the most robust readers. There are, however, two English prose works of the seventeenth century remarkable, in relation not merely to their immediate time but to any time, for their sweetness and simplicity of literary constitution—the English Bible and the Pilgrim’s Progress.

The English Bible, though, stands as the last of a long series of English renderings, each successive rendering a successive winnowing of the huskier parts and closer union of the more essential. The Pilgrim’s Progress, too, was really conceived with the vividness of a dream, and so is a poem or organic whole.

Of course, by the English Bible, the authors mean the King James version of 1611—for those of you who grew up with it, it’s hard to quibble with their commentary on it.

Like all translations, it does have a few drawbacks, but it would be hard to come up with a single work with more influence upon modern English, or upon Western society, than this one. For anyone who is not literate in works written before the twentieth century, it can be difficult to read, but that is really more of a function of the original text than the translation, which has stood the passage of three hundred years quite well. Even newer translations such as the American Standard Version of 1901 owe much to the language and cadence of the 1611 translation, although it does provide a more accurate rendering of the Greek New Testament books. The New American Standard (an update of the 1901 version) benefits from the usage of various copies of texts discovered in the twentieth century, most notably parts of the Dead Sea texts, as well as being intricately footnoted and set so that quotations of Old Testament works within the New are more distinct. As an overall translation, the NAS leaves a bit to be desired. Attempts to accurately translate distances and measures into recognizable modern values (particularly noticeable in the New Testament portion) tends to strip the symbolic portions of the original of their intended meaning. There are several instances of this throughout, but one of the more noticeable is in the Book of Revelation, where John describes his vision of the New Jerusalem as it is being measured—in the original text it is measured out as 12,000 stadia in length, width, and height. While there are some who take this literally and have tried to work out exactly how big everybody’s apartment is going to be (and if they will have any space for a roommate to share rent) it works much better as a symbolic measure—12 being a number to indicate perfection, then multiplied a thousandfold and applied to a perfect cubic shape. The New American Standard translates the distance simply as “fifteen hundred miles”, which while accurate literally, is way off symbolically.

Another problem with any translation is again not so much the translation, as it is the original text. And people being what they are, and there being lots of money to be wrung from folks who would rather the original were not quite so full of the Mean Old Angry God, the number of new translations and transliterations and paraphrasings and boy-I-wish-it-said-this-instead versions has skyrocketed in the past thirty years or so, and increasingly they have replaced God the Father with Papa Smurf (and lots of flowers and kittens). For the most part, the devotion and rigor of their efforts is expended less toward making sure it’s an accurate rendering of the original texts than to insuring nobody gets their feelings hurt.

Well, whatever. But, if you really want to study, get yourself a Bible that is a real translation, and get yourself a couple of good Hebrew-English and Greek-English lexicons, too. Even if you’re a ragin’ atheist, it really won’t hurt you, if for no other reason than to get a little cultural depth—if you read any mid- to late-eighteenth century works by our Founders, it’s hard to deny the influence of the language and thoughts of the King James Bible upon their minds (whether for good or bad), and likewise upon the history of America.

9:30 A.M.—Internet STILL Down

Figures. Just get Blogger to where it actually works, and now I can’t use it!

10:40 A.M.—Still down

Wow—hard to believe how much you come to rely on something to feed the obsessive side of your personality until it’s SNATCHED away from you without notice. Usually, I will type furiously or run around here being a good regulatory agent, then sit for a minute or two and see what all’s going on in the world, then try to decide whether or not the vasty ocean of Possumblog readers would want to hear my comment on any certain event or topic I have found, then decide to completely ignore the boisterous cries to ‘shut up’ and go on to post something completely without merit. Then go back to regulating again.

But without my hosepipe to the outside world, I’m stuck here with no way of seeing live pictures of the guys putting Vulcan’s head on, or of finding out what's the deal with anteaters, or reading the Bleat, or answering e-mails, or looking for pictures of my home entertainment center.

Oh well. There’s always work. And Solitaire. OOOH! OOOH! It’s working again!! HOORAY!! (Better get this mess posted before it breaks again!)
posted by Terry at 10:59:00 AM