The Transparency Of The Text
THE TRANSPARENCY OF THE TEXT
Perhaps the greatest tribute to its success lies in the simple fact that, for nearly two centuries, most of its readers were unaware that they were actually reading a translation. George Bernard Shaw had Henry Higgins admonish Eliza Doolittle to remember that “you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech: that your native language is the language of Shakespeare and Milton and The Bible; and don't sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon.” For Shaw, and his age, the King James translation of Bible was the Bible. The translation achieved a transparency that allowed its readers to forget that they were reading what was originally written in a foreign language. Demands for revision of the translation were met with the highly significant retort: “If the King James Bible was good enough for St. Paul, it's good enough for me.” The idea of inspiration, which was traditionally applied to the biblical texts in their original languages, now came to be applied to the English translation of the King James Bible itself.
Although hints of this can be seen in the late eighteenth century the trend reached its climax in the middle of the nineteenth century. The prominent American writer Alexander Wilson McClure (1808–65) published a work entitled The Translators Revised, in which he lavished praise on their achievements, and set out his belief that:
The first half of the seventeenth century, when the translation was completed, was the Golden Age of biblical and oriental learning in England. Never before, nor since, have those studies been pursued by scholars whose vernacular tongue is English with such zeal and success. This remarkable fact is a token of God's providential care of his Word as deserves most devout acknowledgement.
We find here an insight concerning the early seventeenth century that was apparently denied to those fortunate enough to live then—that it was a Golden Age of biblical learning and translation. An increasing historical distance, not to mention a certain lack of knowledge of the early history of the translation, allowed this heady nostalgia to settle over the reputation of the King James Bible.
Yet this definitive and authoritative work was actually a translation. This point was completely lost to most in the nineteenth century—even the clergy. Richard Whately (1787–1863), archbishop of Dublin from 1831, caused consternation at his diocesan conference of clergy when he produced a copy of the King James Bible, and declared: “Never forget, gentlemen, that this is not the Bible.” Gasps of astonishment were heard throughout the auditorium. After a moment's pause for effect, he continued, “This, gentlemen, is only a translation of the Bible.” Perhaps it was “only” a translation—but it was the only translation that English-language culture knew and used for the best part of two hundred years. It was inevitable that it should have a deep impact on the shaping of that language. Jean Paul once remarked that “every language is a dictionary of faded metaphors.” The English language can be thought of as a dictionary of such images and phrases, many of which can be traced back to the King James Bible. The phrases and images that it deployed have often survived, whereas the specific religious beliefs they conveyed have not.