So, again, consider what effect has been produced on the English vulgar mind by the use of the sonorous Latin form "damno," in translating the Greek [Greek text which cannot be reproduced], when people charitably wish to make it forcible; and the substitution of the temperate "condemn" for it, when they choose to keep it gentle;and what notable sermons have been preached by illiterate clergymen on--"He that believeth not shall be damned;" though they would shrink with horror from translating Heb. xi. 7, "The saving of his house, by which he damned the world," or John viii. 10-11, "Woman, hath no man damned thee? She saith, No man, Lord. Jesus answered her, Neither do I damn thee: go and sin no more." And divisions in the mind of Europe, which have cost seas of blood, and in the defence of which the noblest souls of men have been cast away in frantic desolation, countless as forest-leaves--though, in the heart of them, founded on deeper causes--have nevertheless been rendered practically possible, mainly, by the European adoption of the Greek word for a public meeting, "ecclesia," to give peculiar respectability to such meetings, when held for religious purposes;and other collateral equivocations, such as the vulgar English one of using the word "Priest" as a contraction for "presbyter."Now, in order to deal with words rightly, this is the habit you must form. Nearly every word in your language has been first a word of some other language--of Saxon, German, French, Latin, or Greek; (not to speak of eastern and primitive dialects). And many words have been all these--that is to say, have been Greek first, Latin next, French or German next, and English last: undergoing a certain change of sense and use on the lips of each nation; but retaining a deep vital meaning, which all good scholars feel in employing them, even at this day. If you do not know the Greek alphabet, learn it;young or old--girl or boy--whoever you may be, if you think of reading seriously (which, of course, implies that you have some leisure at command), learn your Greek alphabet; then get good dictionaries of all these languages, and whenever you are in doubt about a word, hunt it down patiently. Read Max Muller's lectures thoroughly, to begin with; and, after that, never let a word escape you that looks suspicious. It is severe work; but you will find it, even at first, interesting, and at last endlessly amusing. And the general gain to your character, in power and precision, will be quite incalculable.
Mind, this does not imply knowing, or trying to know, Greek or Latin, or French. It takes a whole life to learn any language perfectly. But you can easily ascertain the meanings through which the English word has passed; and those which in a good writer's work it must still bear.
And now, merely for example's sake, I will, with your permission, read a few lines of a true book with you, carefully; and see what will come out of them. I will take a book perfectly known to you all. No English words are more familiar to us, yet few perhaps have been read with less sincerity. I will take these few following lines of Lycidas:-"Last came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake.
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain,)He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake, 'How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such as for their bellies' sake Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold!
Of other care they little reckoning make, Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest;Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else, the least That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!
What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread;Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said.'"Let us think over this passage, and examine its words.
First, is it not singular to find Milton assigning to St. Peter, not only his full episcopal function, but the very types of it which Protestants usually refuse most passionately? His "mitred" locks!
Milton was no Bishop-lover; how comes St. Peter to be "mitred"?
"Two massy keys he bore." Is this, then, the power of the keys claimed by the Bishops of Rome? and is it acknowledged here by Milton only in a poetical licence, for the sake of its picturesqueness, that he may get the gleam of the golden keys to help his effect?
