VI.

UNTRANSLATABLE WORDS.

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VERY one knows that, strictly speaking, most words are almost untranslatable. It is always hard to find an exact equivalent for any word which has much meaning. There are no exact synonymes for such words in their own language, and nothing precisely corresponding to them in another. But this difficulty is immensely increased when these words have any subtle aroma, any particular charm, any delicate sentiment attached to them. Then they become absolutely untranslatable. The very quality which distinguishes them disappears when they are transferred into a different phrase. This makes the desperate nature of the attempt to translate poetry from one language into another, for a large part of the charm of poetic language lies in the subtle associations connected with each word. We read Virgil or Horace in the best English translations, and wonder how they can ever have been considered such great writers. Their peculiar aroma has evaporated while they were being poured from one receptacle into another.

The reverse takes

place which was suggested in the parable, for the old wine has burst the new bottles, and the wine has been spilled.

Hence it happens that foreign words are so often transported bodily from one language into another, or left untranslated when quoted for any purpose. Words which cannot be translated from the Latin, Greek, French, German, are adopted into English, and naturalized. Thus every language is enriched by the best phrases of every other. This, no doubt, often leads to pedantry, conscious or unconscious. Foreign words are used when English ones would do as well, or better. So we have introduced the German word "hand-book," when we already had a word with precisely the same meaning, “manual,” and with a better sound. But generally these immigrations from foreign parts enrich our own literature.

Sometimes words are left untranslated because they seem untranslatable. Shakspeare has done this, as when the dying Cæsar reproaches Brutus with the words, "And thou, too, Brutus!" Shakspeare has left it in the Latin, "Et tu, Brute! Then die, Cæsar." There seems something incongruous in putting a Latin and an English clause together in the same line. But Shakspeare, no doubt, found something in the Latin to which no English words—not even his own—could do justice.

The English and German Bibles, as translations, are as nearly perfect as anything can be, I mean as a whole, and in their impression on the mind.

There are errors, no doubt, which ought to be corrected; but the simplicity, pathos, sublimity of the language cannot be surpassed. In these great Teutonic tongues strength and tenderness blend, as in the original writings. Unfortunately, the language which was spoken by Jesus and his disciples in Galilee has disappeared. There is no gospel extant in the words which were uttered on the lake shore or in Capernaum. A few fragments, however, of that old speech remain in the New Testament,— certain words so full of tender and heavenly associations that they were left untranslated in the Greek gospels, and still remain untranslated in our English Testament.

Of these I will mention five, four of them uttered by Jesus, and one by Mary Magdalene. Two of these were expressions of power; one was a cry of anguish; another was an utterance of ununspeakable tenderness; the last, of the most ardent faith.

We read that Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue, came to Jesus, earnestly praying him to come and heal his little daughter, who was at the point of death. Jesus comes to the house, goes into the room with only three of his disciples Peter, James, and John-and the father and mother of the little girl, who was twelve years old. Having put out those whom he found in the room, he called, saying, "Maid, arise!" This is what Luke says, who, of course, was not present. Matthew,

he who was not in the room, says no more. But Mark, who reports the traditions which came from Peter, who was present, gives the very words uttered by Christ in the language of the people, "Talitha cumi!" These literally mean, "My lamb, arise!" Peter heard those words; he heard the divine. tones of the voice, the spirit of Jesus going from him at that moment with power which penetrated the dull ear of death, and poured a mighty vital influence into the brain and nervous centres. There was a quality in those two words which could not be translated. If there is such a thing as verbal inspiration, it is found here in words instinct with some divine influence.

In the same Gospel of Mark a similar quotation of the original occurs where Jesus cures the deaf man. The very Aramaic term which he uttered is given, "Eph-phatha !"-"be opened!" There was something also in that phrase which could not be translated, some thrilling tone from the depths of the soul, full of power to reach the seat of life in the soul of the sufferer.

Have we not all heard some such tone of command, of authority, when the whole force of human will seems to rush into the voice, and give it such power that all who hear are swept away by the irresistible current? Such was the authority of the great Lord Chatham, who carried in his very tones a weight of command which no man on the floor of the House of Commons could resist.