The Construction of Logical Argumentation









What is Logic?










Violations of the Rules of Logic


Anecdotal evidence





Argumentum ad Baculum (the argument or appeal to force)





Argumentum ad Hominen 















Argumentum ad Ignorantiam



Here are a couple of examples:









Argumentum ad Misericordiam




Argumentum ad Populum




Argumentum ad Numerum




Argumentum ad Verecundiam








Argumentum ad Antiquitatem


“We have always closed the service with a hymn.”


Argumentum ad Novitatem



Argumentum ad Crumenam



Argumentum ad lazarum




Argumentum ad nauseam


The fallacy of Accident / Sweeping Generalization / Dicto Simpliciter 




Converse Accident/Hasty generalization



Non causa pro causa



Post hoc ergo propter hoc




Cum hoc ergo propter hoc



Petitio principii/Begging the question



Circulus in demonstrando






Complex question /Fallacy of interrogation /Fallacy of presupposition


“Have you stopped beating your wife? 


“Where did you hide the money you stole?”

Similarly, politicians often ask loaded questions such as:



Ignoratio elenchi/Irrelevant conclusion





Equivocation /Fallacy of four terms






Fallacies of composition





 Fallacy of division





The slippery slope argument








Affirmation of the consequent



This is the converse of Denial of the Antecedent.

  Denial of the antecedent





 Converting a conditional







Plurium interrogationum /Many questions


Non Sequitur




Red Herring



Straw Man


The Extended Analogy





The Argument of Irrelevance


Audiatur et altera pars


Ad hoc



“I was healed from cancer by the Lord.”


“Well, you must have sufficient faith.”

 Argumentum ad Logicam






The “No True Scotsman“fallacy




History of the English Bible: The Geneva Bible of 1560













As Daniell notes:






























[12] Greenslade, Cambridge History, 158.



[15] Daniell, Bible in English, 305.





[20] Greenslade, Cambridge History, 158.






The History of the English Bible: The Great Bible of 1539



























History of the English Bible: The Matthew’s Bible of 1537

This is the fourth in my little series on the History of the English Bible. The Matthew’s Bible is known as the first complete Bible in English from the original languages.  As a categorical statement this needs a lot of qualification, which we will examine here.  The first thing of course, is that the Matthew’s Bible wasn’t by Matthew’s. In fact, that only Thomas Matthews know at this time was a Lutheran fish monger in Antwerp, who perhaps had his name borrowed (probably without his direct knowledge) for the third of the great English Bibles.


Perhaps the most obscure of all of the Seven Bibles is the Matthew’s Bible (1537). From the common name of the Bible; which was a complete fabrication, there was no such person as Thomas Matthews, to whom it was inscribed; to its publishing (the actual publisher of the first edition is unknown) the Matthews Bible is both obscure and important marker in the pathway from Tyndale to the King James.

The pseudonym of Thomas Matthews, was used by John Rogers[1] (1500–55), but why is open to some speculation. The first thing is who was Rodgers? Rogers took his BA from Pembroke Hall at Cambridge in 1526. From 1532–34 he was Rector of Holy Trinity the Less parish in London. It would appear that this was not exactly a front line posting. By 1606 the church was reported to be falling apart and was maintained with scaffolding. The entire parish was destroyed in the Great London Fire of 1666 and the church, although included in Christopher Wren’s master rebuilding plan of 1670 was never rebuilt. He moved to Antwerp in 1534 to become a chaplain to the English speaking community. English merchants had a significant community in the “free city.” At this time Antwerp was free from direct imperial control and was a commercial and trading center for Europe with several different communities of which the English were prominent.[2] Given the cosmopolitan nature of the city, Antwerp had a very tolerant policy towards religion.

While in Antwerp Rogers became an associate of William Tyndale and Myles Coverdale working on Tyndale’s Bible translation. By about 1537 he had renounced his Catholic orders (and Catholicism as a whole) and married a Flemish woman, the neice of Jacob van Meteren, a merchant who had been supporting Tyndale’s work. After Tyndale’s death in 1536 Rogers continued translation work although the exact relationship he had with Coverdale at this time is rather difficult to determine. In 1537 Archbishop Cramner was able to secure a royal license to print a new edition of Coverdale’s Bible. Later in the same year Rogers received a license, against orchestrated by Cramner to print 1500 copies of his Bible. Coverdale had, by this time, been employed by Cromwell and Cramner to supervise the creation of the Bible that Henry VIII had authorized, which would be The Great Bible.

By 1538 Rogers and his wife had moved to Wittenberg where he finished his MA in 1540. During this time he became a good friend of Philip Melanchthon. From 1544–48 he was the pastor of a Lutheran congregation in Meldorf. In 1548 he returned to England, translated Melanchthon’s work Considerations of the Augsburg Interim, into English, became a prebendary (a senior member of the clergy who was supported by a local parish) at St. Paul’s and a lecturer in divinity (theology). Although a Protestant of the Lutheran branch he had also opposed the “radical” Reformation mainly the Anabaptists. Despite an appeal from John Foxe he had refused to assist Joan of Kent (d. 1550) and called her punishment of burning at the stake, “sufficiently mild” for her anabaptist heresy.

However, with the death of Edward VI and Mary I’s assent to the throne in 1553 Rogers was no longer safe. Immediately Rogers preached an inflamatory sermon at Paul’s Cross which affirmed the “true doctrine” that was taught during Edwards’ reign and also had undiplomatic words for the Catholic church. The result was he was arrested, tried at Smithfield and burned at the stake (like Tyndale he had probably been strangled first and his remains were burned). Despite not helping John Foxe in 1550, Foxe still included a brief account of Rogers in his Book of Martyrs and there is an illustration of his being burned.[3] Rogers goes down as the first Protestant martyr to die ins of the five year terror of Queen Mary and her religious (if not more) consort, Cardinal Reginald Pole.

But what of his version of the Bible? The Matthew’s Bible was a revision of Tyndale and an updating of the portions of the Old Testament that Coverdale had done, this time using Hebrew sources, of which Rogers had some facility. However, there is no indication that Rogers actually did any of the translation, except for the Apocryphal Song of Manasses. Daniell speculates that what happened was that when Tyndale was arrested his unpublished translations of the Old Testament from Joshua to Second Chronicles were rescued from the arresting agents by John Rogers. Rogers then got those sections into print in The Matthew’s Bible. Daniel states, that “for the first time moreover, there appeared an English translation of the nine historical books ending at 2 Chronicles made from the Hebrew.”[4] He concludes that “this was the work of Tyndale is now beyond doubt.”[5] The rest of the Old Testament and Apocrypha were Coverdale.

Daniell’s conjecture of how Tyndale’s draft translations for the nine historical books in the OT got into print is certainly possible, and at is the most plausible explanation to account for the Old Testament section. Greenslade acknowledges Tyndale as the translator of the section. He also notes that the entire Bible was “composite version.”[6] The Matthew’s Bible was a mixture of Tyndale’s New Testament, Pentateuch, Joshua thru Second Chronicles; the rest of the OT was Coverdale with “some revision to the middle of Job and only the slightest thereafter.”[7]

Interestingly there are some 2000 notations, mainly on the text. They include many of Tyndale (although the prefaces and more controversial notations were removed), some notations from Coverdale, and some likely from Rogers himself. There were also notations from Luther, Erasmus, Bucer, and other European scholars. This had the effect of making it “from the Hebrew,” as opposed to Coverdale’s Bible, so it appealed to scholars.

The Bible, probably produced in Antwerp, was dedicated to “The King’s Majesty and to Queen Jane” and in the preface it claims to be “purely translated into English by Thomas Matthew.” There are several possible reasons for the false name. It couldn’t be called the “Tyndale” because he was a recently executed heretic and Henry would still not be willing to license a work with Tyndale’s name on it. The common explanation is that Rogers feared for his life and wanted to hide his identity. However, this isn’t entirely plausible since Rogers was in no particular danger and Coverdale was now working on a new English Bible in the open and with the approval of the King and his chief ministers (Cromwell and Cramner). There is also a notation that the king’s Privy Council knew well early on that Matthews was an alias for Rogers.[8] It is more probably that the subterfuge was both known to and approved by Henry, which allowed his to have an English Bible in print (which by now was a high priority) while at the same time not be seen approving of a work by Tyndale.

The Bible in English had now gone from an entirely outlaw affair only a decade earlier (1526) to the point where two English Bibles could claim approval and license for printing and sale by the king himself. The Matthew’s Bible, was a singularly important work, although history would make it obsolete in a brief time. John Rogers was not so much a translator, although he could translate, as an editor. He was able to, at an opportune time, put together a Bible, which was an improvement on the Coverdale. While it was not completely “from the original” in the Old Testament, it was a noticeable improvement over Coverdale’s work from the German, Swiss, and Latin.

Greenslade notes,

There were now [1537] two complete Bibles in circulation, Coverdale’s (1535 and 1537—the quarto claiming to have the king’s license) and the Matthew (1537, 1500 copies printed). The former could not satisfy the scholars, not being made from the originals; the later would offend the conservatives by its notes and its origin, for Tyndale’s share must soon be detected.[9]

It would simply not do to have competing English versions available as this played into the objections of the Catholic and conservative wing of the church that claimed without singular control over the Bible a “free for all” would develop (which of course, in the modern era would be the case). The answer, in the minds of Cromwell and Cramner, and now affirmed by Henry VIII was that an entirely new work be produced. Edited by the ever-dependable Myles Coverdale, the next Bible on the scene would have as it’s name something befitting the king who authorized it, The Great Bible.




[2] Antwerp and it’s enormous port (still one one of the largest in the world) operated much the way Shanghai did prior to World War II as a “treaty port.” It was to the mutual benefit of various nations to keep the port open and operating and keep commerce flowing.

[3] John Foxe (1517–87) wrote the Actes and Monuments in 1563. More popularly known as Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. It went through four editions and contained the largest number of woodcut drawings of any book to that date (60). It was presented as a history of the protestant church, highlighting its persecution by Catholicism (particularly the reign of Mary) in England and Scotland. His work is based in history, that is all the people he discusses did in fact die, often horribly, as martyrs (although the account of King John being poisoned by priests is a stretch); however, Foxe was an apologist and propagandist and his work has to be viewed in that light. His work is largely reliable as a history of those times, if not exaggerated at times for effect, from a protestant viewpoint.

[4] David Daniell, The Bible in English (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 193.

[5] Ibid. Daniell makes reference to his own work in support of this conclusion, William Tyndale: A Biography (New Haven, CT.: Yale University Press, 1994), 333–57.

[6] S. L. Greenslade, The Cambridge History of the Bible: The West from the Reformation to the Present Day (Cambridge: The Cambridge University Press, 1963), 150.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Daniel, Bible in English, 196.

[9] Greenslade, Cambridge, 150.

A History of the English Bible: The Coverdale Bible of 1535

This is the third in my series on the History of the English Bible.  The Coverdale Bible and it’s originator, Myles Coverdale, are unfortunately not given the recognition today that he deserves. His life was remarkable, especially in terms of longevity, and his work was significant.


The Coverdale Bible of 1535 was produced by Myles Coverdale (1488–1569) and while this version is generally thought to have a relatively minor role in the concatenation to the King James Bible it was, in its own way, a key pivot point.

The text was largely Tyndale’s work (the NT and the Pentateuch and possibly Jonah) with Coverdale completing the Old Testament not done by Tyndale. However, Coverdale did not have facility in Hebrew and the remainder of the OT was largely from Luther’s German Bible, Zwingli’s Swiss Bible, and the Vulgate. The most notable feature of this Bible is that it was the first complete Bible in English. However, Coverdale, like Tyndale, gave the English some new words, generally compounds (following the German style with which he was more familiar), such as: “loving-kindness,” “winebibber,” as well as “tender mercies” and “saving health.” As Daniell notes, he had a “love for variation”[1] in his word choice as he translated.

Myles Coverdale is perhaps the most overlooked and under appreciated figure in what I call The Era of the Seven Bibles. Coverdale graduated from Cambridge with his BA in 1513. His emphasis of study was mainly in Canon Law. After Cambridge he was a Friar in the Augustinian Order at Cambridge and was influenced by the new Prior, Robert Barnes (1495–1540). It is appropriate to note here as C. S. Lewis does, that the study of this era and understanding the various Bibles cannot be accomplished apart from the greater history of the era.

The history of the English Bible from Tyndale to the Authorized Version should never for long be separated from that European, and by no means exclusively Protestant, movement of which it made part. No one can write that history without skipping to and fro across national and religious boundaries at every moment.[2]

And so the reader will perhaps indulge me a little as we piece together a brief summary of the people and events of that most tumultuous of times and put Coverdale into his proper setting.

Barnes had studied under Erasmus, received his Doctor of Divinity from Cambridge and was by all accounts a dynamic, if undisciplined preacher. He had adopted some of his humanistic teachings of Erasmus and had leanings towards Luther’s theology. In 1525 he preached what has been called “the first sermon of the English Reformation” at St. Edward’s Church. The result of the sermon was a trial before Cardinal Wolsey preaching a “heterodox sermon.”

At the trial Coverdale served as Barnes’ secretary and part of his “defense team” being the Priory’s expert on Canon Law. His defense was successful for that era. He was given the choice of abjuring (which was to recant and do an act of penance) or to be put to the stake. This was a most lenient sentence and Wolsey balanced the politics of the day. To have found Barnes innocent would be giving official sanction to his sermon (and evangelistic one with a decidedly anti-Rome element where he detailed some of the doctrinal errors of the church) but to have sent him to his death was more than Wolsey (and probably Henry VIII behind the scenes) would want. Barnes, rather wisely, chose to abjure. In 1528 he “escaped” from his house arrest with the Austin Friars in London and made his way to Antwerp and for a while to Wittenberg, where he developed a relationship with Martin Luther.

Barnes became an ally of Thomas Cromwell (1485–1540), Henry VIII’s chief minister from 1532 until his execution in 1540. The importance of Cromwell to the English Reformation cannot be emphasized too strongly. Where Wolsey had failed to obtain the annulment through the papal route, Cromwell engineered the annulment of Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon in favor of Anne Boleyn by the political one. He had worked through Parliament to officially break the English church away from Rome and recognize the king as the Supreme Head of the English Church (and thereby placing all the church lands in Henry’s hands to dispense to various nobles and those who supported him). In this maneuver he had recalled Barnes to England and sent him as an official emissary to Germany to secure a statement of approval for the divorce from Luther and his emerging movement.

Cromwell had a final grand scheme in place where Henry would marry (most unhappily) Anne of Cleves (1515–57), the second daughter of the Duke of Cleves. In 1536 Henry had married Jane Seymour[3] after the divorce, trial, and execution of Anne Boleyn (which Cromwell had orchestrated at Henry’s direction). Barnes also worked in those negotiations. Cromwell had hope this union with the daughter of an important Germanic (and Lutheran) Duke would help reinvigorate the Reformation in England, which had stalled. The end result though was a thoroughgoing disaster for Cromwell and ultimately Barnes.

Henry’s antipathy towards Martin Luther’s theology and politics were well known; Cromwell, however, apparently under-estimated the severity of that antipathy. Cromwell’s plan was two-fold: (1) Henry’s marriage to the German princess Anne of Cleves; (2) firming the Reformation in England along more Lutheran lines. However, the arrangement was a disaster. Although Anne was of the nobility she had received no formal education, could only read German (he native land) and enjoyed needlework and playing card games and was apparently rather vacuous in conversation. Henry found her both intellectually and physically unattractive and after six months the marriage was annulled (Henry referred to he as his “sister” and she was given a generous pension and estate and would outlive all of Henry’s other wives). Anne had no particularly strong opinions and changed her religion a few times (becoming Catholic during Mary’s reign) and was amiable but disinterested in matters outside her rather narrow abilities.

Cromwell paid the price for the debacle (which had also threatened England relations with several of the German states) he was tried and executed. In carrying out Henry’s wishes Cromwell accumulated a number of powerful enemies along the way. In the moment of his weakness they pounced upon him. Barnes was also caught in the affair, as he, sensing England would soon be fully involved in the Lutheran Reformation had himself become Lutheran. After the passing of the Six Articles in 1540, Barnes was tried for heresy and executed. Henry quickly regretted the decision; Cromwell had been his most loyal, talented, and effective chief minister.

Back now to Myles Coverdale. By 1527 he had left the Priory, apparently shed the garments of the priesthood and was something of an itinerant preacher affirming some of the same theology as the Lollards and now Luther. Itinerant preaching was illegal and the content of his preaching even more so. In 1528 he left England for Antwerp. Early on he became an associate of William Tyndale and assisted him in translation work until Tyndale’s arrest and subsequent execution in 1535.

Coverdale, although his original language skills were lacking, he had what we would call “a good way with words,” as Lewis points out,


While he retained virtually all of Tyndale in the New Testament he occasionally varied the wording. In some passages he reverted back to “penance” instead of “repentance.” That was perhaps the most controversial of Tyndale’s translation, but he rather dogmatically used the same word in every instance, even when “penance” in it’s proper English meaning was the better choice. Although he didn’t read Hebrew at all (he mainly relied on Luther in the Old Testament) he had a good sense of parallelism in Hebrew poetry. As Greenslade states,

His English style is commonly judged by his Psalms, where it is at its best: abounding in music beautifully phrased. Elsewhere he is generally smoother and more melodious than Tyndale, less given to variation, missing something of his swiftness and native force, but often finding a better phrase.[5]

It might be said of Coverdale that he was a translator of “phrases” rather than words. In the Coverdale Bible there are no controversially worded prefaces or introductions (as with Tyndale) and the first edition is dedicated to “the kings majesty.” Remarkably, his work on the Psalms would not be superseded until the King James Version, and that, in its 1611 rendering, follows Coverdale very closely.

The Coverdale Bible would be printed widely and with the more moderating political climate (as well as the work of Cromwell and Cramner behind the scenes) there wasn’t a enormous outcry against the work. Henry and the Pope were also in the height of their disputes, so there were other issues to distract them.

During Anne Boleyn’s life she, working with Cromwell (when they were still allies), had persuaded Henry to authorize an English Bible in every church. This project had apparently been started in 1536 but not carried out at the time. Henry’s main disagreement with Catholicism had been with the Pope, the church hierarchy, and perhaps more importantly, the syphoning off of English wealth to Rome. Theologically he was much more conservative. As his Assertio Septem Sacramentorum (A Defense of the Seven Sacraments) demonstrated, he was well versed in the theological issues and his movement towards a more Protestant theology was much slower. But, he did in 1537 allow for an English Bible to be produced.

About a vernacular Bible he was cautious, but open to persuasion. In 1537 Cromwell would tell Cramner that the king would authorize an English version which the archbishop had just submitted for license ‘until such time that we thei bishops shall set forth a better translation which I think will not be till a day after doomsday.’[6]

The version he is referring to for immediate approval is The Matthews Bible, which is the next installment in the story and the Bible that Cromwell states is in production, would be The Great Bible. Myles Coverdale would be instrumental in the translation and production of both, and he would also be involved at the end of his life for a brief time Matthew Parker’s Bishops Bible.

Coverdale is nearly forgotten today. The Bible that bears his name is often disregarded as insignificant. He is overshadowed by Tyndale (and later the Geneva Bible and King James) and I think suffers in reputation, unjustly, simply because he managed not to be martyred (which is hardly a bad thing). But this is a man who was involved in five of the first seven great English Bibles, and was the key figure in three of them.



[1] David Daniell, The Bible in English (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 181

[2] C. S. Lewis, “The Literary Impact of the Authorized Version,” The Ethel M. Wood Lecture Delivered Before the University of London, 20 March 1950 (London: The Athlone Press, 1950), 8–9.

[3] Jane Seymour (1508–37) was Henry VIII’s third wife. She was the mother of the future king, Edward VI. Unfortunately she died from complications arising from the birth of Edward. Seymour was the only of Henry’s wives to receive a queen’s funeral and is the only one who is buried next to him. Seymour, however served Catholic interests by working to reconcile Mary and ultimately placing her back into the royal succession.

[4] Lewis, “Impact,” p. 11.

[5] S. L. Greenslade (ed) The Cambridge History of the Bible: The West from the Reformation to the Present Day (Cambridge: The Cambridge University Press, 1963), 149.

[6] Ibid., 150.

A History of the English Bible: The Tyndale Bible of 1523

This is the second of a series of posts on the History of the English Bible.  The first part gave an overview of the Bibles created from 1526 to 1611 and the overall textual history of the King James Bible of 1611.  This post deals with the first of the modern English Bibles, The Tyndale Bible of 1523.


The first significant English Bible of the modern era was The Tyndale Bible (ca. 1523). The work of William Tyndale (1494–1536), he produced an English version that, for the first time, translated from the Hebrew and Greek texts, although he also made use of the Latin Vulgate. It was widely opposed by the Catholic Church and initially by Henry VIII of England. As I noted in the first part of this series, Tyndale made some notable changes at variance with traditional church teaching. Four words in particular in the New Testament translation were noted:

  1. Church to “congregation”
  2. Priest to “elder” (although in the first edition he used the word “senior”)
  3. Do Penance to “repent.” (this was the most controversial change)
  4. Charity to “love”

The background of the Tyndale Bible is a little more complex than is often presented in more popular treatments. It was a remarkable achievement by a singularly remarkable individual.[1] Little is known of Tyndale’s early life, even the year of his birth (ca. 1494) and the location of his birth (perhaps the area of Dursley, in Gloucestershire). The normal myth that Tyndale “crept out of humble origins, a small country mouse from an unimpressive clan, and then dared to challenge the great and well-connected lions of London, is not true: indeed it should perhaps be reversed.”[2] On the contrary Tyndale’s family was itself well connected, wealthy, and leaders in the region.

Tyndale first appears in the historical record when he takes both his BA and MA at Oxford in 1512 and 1516 respectively (Magdalen College, where C. S. Lewis was a Fellow and Tudor from 1929 to 1954). He actually had first enrolled under his main family name of Hychyns. By Tyndale’s time Oxford had become the leading European university overtaking the medieval stalwart University of Paris. After Oxford he was at Cambridge for nearly five years (1517–21) but missed working under Erasmus who had departed Cambridge a few years earlier.

Tyndale was clearly a linguistic genius, mastering all of the key European languages of scholarship (French, German, Italian, and Spanish) as well as the Biblical languages (Hebrew and Greek), the mandatory academic language of Latin, and his native English. It seems the key to Tyndale and his Bible translation was that he was able to keep the languages “separate” in his mind. That is, when he translated into English, it was as the expression goes, “the King’s English” the English used in everyday conversation; an English that was both readable and able to be read aloud. This was in contrast to the Wycliffe Bible of 1382. John Wycliffe (ca. 1331–84) is rightly remembered as the “Morning Star” of the Reformation, however his English Bible was a literary cul-de-sac. Wycliffe simply translated the Latin Vulgate into a sort of English. It was not an English that anyone actually would have used, it was highly Latinized and poorly done. Its value was more symbolic than useful and no subsequent English translator would refer to it as a source document.

Once Tyndale completed his education he became the chaplain and tutor to the children of Sir John Walsh at Little Sodbury in the south of Glouchestershire. Almost immediately Tyndale became unpopular with the local establishment clergy. He was certainly aware of Martin Luther’s work and the emerging Protestant Reformation but he also was influenced by the changing politics. England was accelerating its emergence as a world power and Tyndale was perhaps more in keeping with Henry VIII politically than is generally recognized. British nationalism was gaining in popularity and the Renaissance concepts that the monarch modeled were paralleled in Tyndale, albeit Tyndale was perhaps a decade ahead of Henry in his progress.

Walsh did not retain Tyndale who then went to London to seek the patronage of the Bishop of London, Cuthbert Tunstall for his project of translating the Bible into the vernacular English. Tyndale, perhaps naively, blamed his problem with the clergy in Glouchestershire, on their lack of Biblical knowledge. As Daniell notes,

Tyndale himself, continues the story in the first preface to his Pentateuch. He had recognized the need for the Scriptures in the mother tongue. His own bad experiences had been ‘because the priests of the country be unlearned’, unable to expound Scripture to the laity, whose needs were desperate. Everyone should be able to see ‘the process, order, and meaning’ of the Bible.[3]

Tunstall (1474–1559) was also a significant scholar and classicist and, importantly for Tyndale, was an admirer of Erasmus. Tunstall was a man of great ability and was an advisor and special envoy for Henry VIII. He was something of a “liberal Catholic” and ultimately sided with Henry in the split with Rome. However, when Edward came to the throne Tunstall finally reached the limit of his tolerance for Protestantism and ran afoul of Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset (1500–52), was deposed as bishop and sent to the Tower of London. He was released and reinstated when Mary came to the throne but then again was deposed by Elizabeth for failing to support the Act of Uniformity. He died shortly thereafter at the age of 85. As Daniell states,

The true nature of Tunstall, a moderate learned man, is now quite difficult to grasp. Almost a saint to what might call the Catholic humanists, almost an ogre to the pious reformed, he warrants neither label. He was generally a considerate and considering cleric and politician who shunned the certainties at either extreme, and moved in a reasonable way through the difficulties that presented themselves in his long life.[4]

Every indication is that Tunstall was sympathetic to Tyndale and his project to translate the Bible into English. He certainly had supported scholarly endeavors in the past, such as second edition of Erasmus’ Greek New Testament. Tyndale was recommended to Tunstall by William Latimer (c. 1467–1545) one of the foremost scholars of the day, teacher and advisor to Thomas More and advisor to Henry VIII. This gives some indication as to the reputation of Tyndale as a scholar in those early days. Latimer was apparently willing to overlook, or was sympathetic to, Tyndale’s theological views. Tyndale remained in London in 1523 waiting on Tunstall. A local merchant, Henry Monmouth, supported him and he also lectured regularly in the area. Tunstall ultimately declined to bring Tyndale, more likely because of his cautious nature and political astuteness more than his opposition to the project itself.

Tyndale traveled to Germany, and quite possibly in Wittenberg at the university completed the translation of the New Testament. He gained the assistance of William Roye. Roye is an interesting character. He was a friar, apparently fallen, a man of more than adequate learning, useful, but apparently of dubious character. He was able in Latin and Greek, but also seemed to take credit for translating more than he actually did (or was able) and ultimately they went their separate ways. Roye was put to the stake in 1531 for heresy in Portugal.

Tyndale’ first edition of the New Testament was printed in Worms in 1526 and then more notably in Antwerp. It was printed in various sizes, but the normal size that was smuggled into England was roughly 7 x 5 inches. They were easily hidden in various commodity bundles. It quickly came to the notice of the authorities and by October Bishop Tunstall had warned book dealers not to sell it and had copies burned. Although this effort produced results almost the reverse of his intentions. The literate (and pious) public in London was significantly outraged by the “spectacle of scriptures being put to the torch”[5] also had the effect of creating interest and more importantly a market. It was clearly politically expedient for Tunstall to do this, but it also ran contrary to all of humanist ideals and had a tendency to also create interest in Tyndale’s work amongst those Erasmus had influenced. However, it wasn’t until 1529 that Cardinal Wolsey in Henry VIII’s court openly declared Tyndale to be a heretic.

Greenslade provides the most likely answer to the reason for the opposition:

Why was Tyndale’s enterprise so bitterly opposed? To say, because it was not authorized, merely forces the question back a step. Why did not the English Bishops, several friends of Erasmus among them, welcome a translation at once so readable and so scholarly? In general the answer must be that Tyndale’s work as a whole, treatises and translations, came before them as part of the Lutheran movement.[6]

Martin Luther, whose translation of the entire Bible into German Tyndale made significant use of, although Tyndale clearly varies from Luther in significant ways, was viewed as the most dangerous man in Europe by not only the Pope, but the Catholic monarchs of Europe. Henry VIII, himself a man of singular genius and a significant scholar in his own right, wrote, Assertio Septem Sacramentorum (A Defense of the Seven Sacraments) in response to the Lutheran Reformation in 1521. This was the work that earned him the title “Defender of the Faith” from the Pope (a title carried by the English crown to this day). Any connection with Lutheran ideals was viewed as seditious as well as heretical.[7]

The problem of being closely identified with Luther and his movement perhaps would not have been singularly fatal to Tyndale, but his treatises were. His 1528 treatise, The Obedience of a Christen Man (and how Christen rulers ought to govern), despite being officially banned was widely read in England. Anne Boylen owned a copy and apparently had Henry read it and said, “this is a book for me and all kings to read.”[8] The tone of Obedience, was remarkably, for Tyndale, mild and despite some flaws it was both popular and influential. Had Tyndale stopped here and simply continued with his Bible translation, his relationship with Henry may have had a much happier conclusion.

However, in 1530 Tyndale wrote The Practyse of Prelates in 1530. It was an incisive indictment of Henry VIII’s divorce of Catherine of Aragon (the mother of the future Queen Mary) for Anne Boleyn. Tyndale condemned the divorce as unscriptural but also that it was part of a larger plot by Cardinal Wolsey. Wolsey, in fact failed to obtain the annulment, was dismissed and later would have been tried for treason had he died before that could occur.

While Tyndale might be praised for the courage of writing the treatise and confronting the powerful monarch, it was a Quixotic enterprise and ultimately doomed Tyndale as Henry’s wrath was now directed squarely towards him. This is where Tyndale’s political ineptitude showed the most. To call into question the biblical basis of the divorce was entirely unnecessary and was quite beyond the question at this point (at these level of power biblical injunctions were routinely ignored by both government and church). But to insinuate that Henry was a dupe of Wolsey, the church, or anyone else could only lead to one outcome.

Tyndale managed live, albeit often on the run, for the next five years. He produced new editions of the New Testament (1534) and completed the translation of the Pentateuch (1530). He also translated Erasmus’ 1501 Enchiridion Militas Christiani (Handbook of a Christian Knight) into English in 1533. It was one of Erasmus’ most influential and popular works and Tyndale’s translation was a significant product and showed Tyndale’s appreciation for the great scholar’s work.

In 1535 Henry Phillips, an associate, betrayed Tyndale to the imperial authorities of Emperor Charles V. Arrested in Antwerp and held, tried for heresy, and executed near Brussels. In early fall 1536[9] he was strangled to death and then his corpse was burned at the stake (this was the common practice, very few were actually burned alive at the stake). His last remark before he was strangled was reported to be “Lord! Open the King of England’s eyes.” In fact Henry’s eyes were already opened. He was singularly outraged that Tyndale had not been sent to England for trial before him. Thomas Cromwell (1485–1540), Henry’s Chief Minister at the time personally interceded for Tyndale but was rebuked, further cementing the break of Henry and England from Catholicism.

Tyndale’s Bible was never actually the “entire” Bible. Most significantly it was the New Testament and the Pentateuch. It would be left to one of his final assistants, Myles Coverdale to produce a complete Bible in English about a year after Tyndale’s death. The Coverdale Bible would be completed with the tacit approval of Henry VIII, and during the remainder of his reign, no fewer than four new English Bible versions would be produced.

Tyndale was a singular genius in linguistics and translation. His ability to work with the Biblical languages as well as the Latin and German translations, place the Bible into an English version which was both readable and felicitous enough to be read aloud, was the turning point not only for the dissemination of the Bible, but also set a standard for translation that has stood to the present day.


[1] The best biography of Tyndale is undoubtedly, William Tyndale: A Biography, by David Daniell (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1994). Daniell is perhaps the most knowledgeable scholar on Tyndale. He does tend however, to overemphasize Tyndale’s work as over against later works. His claim that “nine-tenths of the Authorized Versions New Testament is Tyndale” (1), is rather hyperbolic, even for the original 1611 edition. By its final revision of 1769 the English language, lexically, grammatically, and syntactically, had changed radically from Tyndale’s day.

[2] Daniell, Tyndale, p. 11. Daniell notes, that Tyndale’s chief adversaries, Bishop of London, Cuthbert Tunstall; Henry VIII’s close advisors Thomas Cromwell, and Thomas More, all came from much humbler families than Tyndale.

[3] Daniel, Tyndale, p. 83.

[4] Daniell, Tyndale, p. 84.

[5] Peter Ackroyd, The Life of Thomas More. (London: Oxford, 1999), 270.

[6] S. L. Greenslade (ed) The Cambridge History of the Bible: The West from the Reformation to the Present Day (Cambridge: The University Press, 1963), 141.

[7] The problem was not, as it would be in later English versions, most notably The Geneva Bible, the marginal notations. Luther’s German Bible contains very few notations and Tyndale’s first quarto edition from Worms none at all.

[8] William Tyndale, The Obedience of a Christian Man, [editors preface] (New York: Penguin Books, 2000), xxiv.

[9] Tyndale’s death is normally listed as October 6th, 1536, but the records indicate that he may actually have been executed several weeks earlier.

The Textual History of the King James Bible










English Translations Prior to the King James


  • Church to “congregation.”
  • Charity to “love.”











  3.  There were six committees:











Textual Sources for the King James Bible


The Impetus for New English Versions in the Victorian Era



However, to his student he added a more practical admonition:






Quick Bibliography
















[7] Whitchurch’s is The Great Bible of 1539.


[9] Daniell, The Bible in English, 448.





THE Best Biography of G. K. Chesterton Available

The quote that leads this little “adventure” as noted is from one of  my favorite authors, G. K. Chesterton. The following review is of what I consider to be the single best biography of Chesterton that has ever been written and delves into his mind and thought perhaps as well as any biographer could.

dmsthumbIan Ker. G. K. Chesterton: A Biography. Oxford University Press: 2012. xxi + 757pp. (cloth), $65.00

“Christianity even when watered down is hot enough to boil all modern society to rags. The mere mention of the Church would be a deadly ultimatum to the world.”

– G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (London: Bogley Head, 1908), 218–19.

 One of the single most fascinating Christian apologists in the modern era, like C. S. Lewis (1898–1963), was not a trained theologian, but rather a man of letters, or as Gilbert Keith (G.K.) Chesterton (1874–1936), often referred to himself, “a journalist.” His chief secular antagonist (and good friend) George Bernard Shaw called him an individual of “colossal genius.” Known as a Roman Catholic apologist (although he did not convert to Catholicism until 1922), his works have been reprinted by several evangelical publishers and perhaps his most influence works, The Everlasting Man (1925), was identified by C. S. Lewis as a significant contribution to his own conversion, and one of the books that shaped his “vocational attitude and philosophy of life” (Christian Century, 79, No. 23 [6 June 1962], 719).

Interest in Chesterton and his works has never really waned since his death in 1936; however, in recent years interest in “GK” has steadily risen. In the last ten years there have been over 50 books produced with Chesterton as the central subject. Of all of these new volumes, the subject of this review stands out as a singular contribution.

Ian Ker is Senior Research Fellow in Theology at St. Benet’s Hall, Oxford University. He states in the preface that his goal is to “help establish his [Chesterton’s] rightful position as the successor of the great Victorian ‘sages’, and particularly [John Henry] Newman” (xi). For Ker to seek to place Chesterton alongside Cardinal Newman is no flight of fancy, as he is one of the most noted living authorities on Newman and author of the formidable biography, John Henry Newman (Oxford University Press, 2009).

This volume is “the first full-length intellectual and literary life of Chesterton” (viii, xi) incorporating many heretofore little known or unpublished letters and other materials. The final product is a singular accomplishment, integrating insights into his multiple genres as well as his theological, socio-economic, and philosophic thoughts into a biographic tour de force.

Ker follows chronological style with allowances for the thematic approach he mentions in the preface. Straying from pure chronology was also somewhat forced upon Ker by his subject since Chesterton, “never dated” (viii) letters which he personally wrote. Ker devotes entire chapters to Orthodoxy (195–232) and The Everlasting Man (487–538). There is a listing of plates (xxi) and an abbreviation key to Chesterton’s works (xvii–xx). The index (731–47) is largely a name index, with subjects only being listed in relation to Chesterton himself and his wife Frances (née Blogg) Chesterton (1871–1938). The index is adequate, but only barely so, and although the book runs to nearly 800 pages, one could have wished that the publisher had expended a little more effort towards the exhaustive index which this volume deserves.

In creating this “literary life of Chesterton” (xi), Ker examines the creation of Chesterton’s major polemic and apologetic works, detailing the background and piecing together Chesterton’s personal life at the time of writing. Ker also spends a good deal of time on his major novels, The Napoleon of Notting Hill (127ff) and his most enduring novel, The Man Who Was Thursday (187ff). The Man Who Was Thursday, is the Chesterton novel Ker states, “will continue to be read” (125, 127). Thursday was Chesterton’s reaction against the pessimism of the 1890’s that he viewed, in contrast with the societal pessimism that enveloped England after World War I, as “the sad souls of the nineties lost hope because they had taken to much absinthe; our young men lost hope because a friend died with a bullet in his head” (192). It was a typical contrastive of Chesterton, pessimism caused by dwelling in self-induced unreality as opposed to the pessimism caused by the tragedies of real life. This reviewer would take some issue with the assertion by Ker that only these two novels will continue to be read. Both The Flying Inn (345–47) and The Man Who Knew Too Much (487) are novels we continue to enjoy.

Chesterton’s most “remembered” books are, of course, the Father Brown mysteries. The stories were highly profitable, when his bank account would run low, he was reported to have said, “Oh well, we must write another Father Brown story” (283). Ker’s discussion of the origination and development of Father Brown (282–90) is excellent. The examination and solving of crimes by an otherwise non-descript Roman Catholic priest combines Chesterton’s twin passions of the common man and the singular importance of Christian theology in everyday life.

Orthodoxy and The Everlasting Man are Chesterton’s two main theological works and they, perhaps as clearly as anything written, detail his view of Christianity and Catholicism, although, Orthodoxy was actually published 14 years before he entered the Catholic Church. Ker’s analysis of these volumes is worth the price of the entire book. For Chesterton Christianity, and the visible church, was a living and vital reality. He stated, “Plato has told you a truth, but Plato is dead. Shakespeare has startled you with an image; but Shakespeare will not startle you any more” (228). “The Christian Church in its practical relation to my soul is a living teacher, not a dead one. It not only taught me yesterday, but will almost certainly teach me tomorrow” (ibid). In The Everlasting Man, Chesterton was dealing with a “post-Christian” society. Ker helpfully notes:

By pointing out that in a post-Christian age it is very difficult to see Christianity for what it is: post-Christians ‘still live in the shadow of the faith and have lost the light of the faith.’ They are in a state of ‘reaction’: ‘They cannot be Christians and they cannot leave off being Anti-Christians.’ They are not ‘far enough away not to hate’ Christianity, nor are they near enough to love it’ (516).

Ker develops the theme of Chesterton’s humour in greater depth than any other biographical work and makes significant use of Chesterton’s Autobiography (published shortly after his death in 1836). Ker states:

The unfailing humour that was so significant an aspect of Chesterton’s personal life has its parallel in the enormous importance he attached in his writings to humour as a medium for comprehending and interpreting life, regarding comedy as he did as an art form at least as serious as tragedy (xi).

In this approach Ker demonstrates the singular skein that runs through his life and works, the difference from being serious about life, yet approaching it with humour and being solemnly humourless whereby one loses the joy of living life (506–07). Humour was so thoroughly entwined in his writings Chesterton remarked that he feared, “his humorous books were taken seriously and his serious books humorously” (550).

The literary device Chesterton is best known for is the use of paradox. Chesterton himself came to believe when he saw that “the paradoxes of Christianity are true to life” (150). Ker’s discussion of Chesterton and paradox is woven throughout the work, as it was in Chesterton’s life itself. Ker notes that Chesterton explained every aspect of Christianity and the Christian life by means of paradox. He summarizes Chesterton’s view of the pagan and Christian view of self by stating:

The pagans had set out to enjoy themselves but in the end made ‘the great psychological discovery’ that ‘a man cannot enjoy himself and continue to enjoy anything else’, and that, ‘whereas it had been supposed that the fullest possible enjoyment is to be found by extending our ego to the infinity, the truth is that the fullest possible enjoyment is to be found by reducing our ego to zero’ (151).

Chesterton remains one of the most fascinating Christian apologists/philosophers of the modern era. He straddled the eras between Queen Victorian and the opening curtain of World War II. He wrote significant critiques of poets like Robert Browning and Robert Lewis Stevenson and also warned the world about the horrors that, left unchecked, Hitler and Nazism would certainly unleash on the world. He was a giant in the English literary world when Fleet Street was in its golden age. He saw the introduction of the telephone (which he personally was adverse to using) and in 1932 became a successful radio personality for the BBC. His radio success foreshadows the broadcasts of C. S. Lewis during World War II, from whence Mere Christianity (1945) would derive.

For evangelicals, of whom Chesterton often critical, he is a writer, apologist, and thinker of the first rank who remains vital to interact with today. While one may be disappointed that the final destination in his spiritual journal was the Catholic Church, if one reads Chesterton without profit it is not the fault of the writer. Ker has produced one of those rare biographies that is full of detailed information and personal anecdotes about the subject and never loses the author’s original goal. We cannot recommend this volume too highly.

THE Reference Set for Early Church History: A Review of “Encyclopedia of Ancient Christianity”

dmsthumbAngelo Di Beradino (General Editor). Encyclopedia of Ancient Christianity, Produced by the Institutum Patristricum Augustinianum. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Academic, 2014. Volume One (A–E) xxxviii + 937 pp; Volume Two (F–O) xxxvi + 1020 pp; Volume Three (P–Z) xxxiv + 994 pp (cloth), $450.00 (set).

As a librarian one of the most frequent questions this reviewer receives is for a recommendation as to how a pastor might configure his library. My working principle over the years has been to emphasize “reference” as the core of a library. To find stock a library with sources of excellent articles on particular subjects that have been through a rigorous academic review (as opposed to Wikipedia or other popular online sources) is key for quick research for the busy pastor.

For many years there has been a significant need for a updated Patristic era reference, especially in English has existed. The 1992 English edition Encyclopedia of the Early Church (Oxford Press) was a straight translation of the Italian Dizinario patristico e di antichitá cristiane (Marietti, 1983–88). The Nuovo dizionario was completed in 2010. This edition represents more than a straight translation as the general editor, Angelo Di Beradino has overseen the addition of many new articles to a total of 3,220. All of the articles were revisited and updated. Di Beradino, for many years the director of the Hewitt Library at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, CA and is currently Professor of Patrology at the Augustinian Patristic Institute in Rome and has served as an editor for several other works including We Believe in One Catholic and Apostolic Church in the Ancient Christian Doctrine series (IVP 2012).

The three volumes roughly cover the era of AD 90 to 750. Consulting editor, Thomas Oden, states that the volumes cover, “key topics in early Christian studies with special attention to authors, texts and contexts of the first through eighth centuries” (ix). The articles range in length from a single paragraph to several pages. Owing to Di Bernadino’s skill as a librarian and researcher, this set is a model of reference organization and detail. The articles all have useful bibliographic references to introduce the reader to additional material. The only organizational criticism this reviewer would advance is the lack of “see also” notations to assist the researcher.

It is impossible to highlight all of the articles deserving of mention but a sample of notable articles would include Trapé on “Justification” (2:490–92) is an important read noting that the discussion of justification by faith was a dynamic conversation in the early church. Crouzel and Odrobina’s entry on “Celibacy of the Clergy” (1:478–79) is valuable in sorting out the development and geographic progression of this concept. The treatment of “Kingdom of God” (2:504–507) by dal Covolo and “Millennialism” (2:802–803) by Simonetti are excellent contributions. Filoramo’s “Eschatology” (1:837–40) is particularly helpful in detailing how the works of Origen and Augustine precipitated the shift in early church doctrine from literal to spiritualized concepts in eschatology. The lengthy entry on “Baptism” (1:321–26) has a very stimulating discussion on the “iconography” of baptismal scenes. The discussion of the early baptismal controversies, especially in the cases of the Novatians and Donatists, is quite helpful. Interestingly, there is no discussion on the issue of infant baptism or its development in the early church. Hanson’s “Creeds and Confessions of Faith” (1:630–33) is excellent, especially in the discussion of the evolution of “style” of creedal statements.

One of the longest articles in the set is the important discussion of “Preaching” (3:273–93). Federico Fatti details the homily, “used in reference to sermons in which exegetical interest prevailed” (3:274) and sermon, which “was used in reference to sermons on a theme” (ibid). He details the development of both substance and style in preaching and a fascinating discussion of the introduction of presbyters as preachers (3:284–86). Another fascinating discussion is the role that audience and congregation participation in the sermon in this era. Any studdent of preaching will benefit from this article, especially the extensive bibliography that takes four full columns.

The Encyclopedia of Early Christianity is highly recommended as a front line source for information on all aspects of the early church. The cost ($450 list) will be prohibitive to some individuals, but it is a must have for any seminary, training school, or other educational institution. Those specializing in church history will want to have this reference set within arms reach at their desk.

Review of “Princeton Seminary in American Culture and Religion”

dmsthumbJames H. Moorhead. Princeton Seminary in American Culture and Religion. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing, 2012. xxii + 548pp (cloth) $60.00

Begun in 1812, Princeton Theological Seminary is the second oldest seminary in America, its two libraries (the Speer Library and the Henry Luce III Library) represent the largest theological library collection in the United States, and the second largest in the world (only the Vatican Library has more extensive holdings). Under the leadership of four successive “principals;” Archibald Alexander (1772–1851); Charles Hodge (1797–1878); Archibald Alexander Hodge (1823–86); and Benjamin B. Warfield (1851–1921), the “Princeton Theology” was developed and taught to successive generations of (mainly) Presbyterian and evangelical pastors and educators. While that theology ceased to be the driving force at Princeton after 1929, Princeton, to this day remains a key institution for theological education and discussion.

To commemorate the bi-centennial of Princeton, the author, himself the Mary McIntosh Bridge Professor of Church History at Princeton Theological Seminary, has produced a history that is detailed without being pedantic and immensely readable without falling into a shallow press piece.

This volume has an excellent Person/Subject Index (510–48) and the notations are exceptionally thorough. However, one could wish that a separate bibliography had been included. In such a well-researched work, that David C. Calhoun’s two volumes: Princeton Seminary: Faith and Learning, 1812–1868 (Banner of Truth, 1994) and Princeton Seminary: The Majestic Testimony, 1869–1929 (Banner of Truth, 1996) go unreferenced and unmentioned is rather inexplicable, especially given the fact that Moorhead spends about ¾ of his work covering the period of 1812 to 1936.

Moorhead details the creation of Princeton and the various dynamics that led to the creation of the school with a board and faculty “separate from the college [The College of New Jersey, later Princeton University]” (26) and with an educational model that would not “follow the divinity school route that Harvard and Yale later pursued” (ibid). The creation of Princeton Seminary under Archibald Alexander and Samuel Miller also coincided with major changes at the College of New Jersey (which had experienced both a suspicious fire, student riots, and general unrest from 1802–1807), where Samuel Smith was ousted as president and replaced by Ashbel Green.

The establishment of Princeton sought to provide “learned men” to fill expanding number of churches as the United States was beginning a major westward expansion (27). The Presbyterian Church established a plan for the seminary that sought to balance the often-competing interests of revivalism, piety, theological fidelity, and scholarship. Moorhead states,

Whatever else the Princetonians were, they first and foremost saw themselves as expositors of God’s Word. But there were never simply men of one book, even a sacred book. Scholars of many books and subjects, they hoped to train their students broadly and believed, as [Archibald] Alexander put it, “there is scarcely any branch of knowledge which may not be made subservient to theology” (xix–xx).

Moorhead arranges the chronological history around the key personalities, mainly the seminary principals. After the chapter on Alexander and Miller (28–62), his chapter “Learning and Piety” (63–98) examines the initial growth and success of the seminary “plan.” Some issues in seminary education seemingly do not change from century to century. Moorhead notes the complaint of Samuel Miller, who in the 1830’s lamented that students often came to seminary and discovered,

the miserable scantiness of their literary and scientific acquisitions” and had the sinking realization that they were not prepared to “enter with intelligence on several departments of theological study (89).

Those students, instead of applying themselves to “more and deeper studies” (ibid) simply went back to their public ministries without completing their studies; there were then, as there are today, many churches all to willing to take on under-prepared preachers and pastors.

One of the most informative sections of this work are the chapters dealing with the events that would eventually lead to the events of 1929, the so-called “re-organization of Princeton Seminary.” In “Hints of Change and Missionary Visions” (282–310), “Curriculum, Conflict, and the Seminary’s Mission” (311–39), and “The Fundamentalist Controversy and Reorganization” (340–69) Moorhead deftly presents and explains the multiple issues that were converging in the decades prior to the reorganization. The three streams of leadership at the seminary: faculty governance, organizational leadership by the board, and the Presbyterian Church’s denominational direction; which had been, by and large, in confluence for the first 100 years began to diverge. Additionally, advancing pedagogical philosophy in higher education began to impact Princeton (312–20).

The first significant change was made in 1902. That year, a “president” appointed by the board (322) replaced the seminary “principal” (a senior faculty member chosen by the faculty). This bifurcated the operations, transferring operational and leadership duties away from the faculty to a separate administration (although in the immediate years after the change the president still regularly taught courses). The first president, Frances L. Patton, had been maneuvered out as president of Princeton University in a “palace coup” (321) engineered by Woodrow Wilson, who would be named the new university president, then would be elected governor of New Jersey, and later, President of the United States. With Warfield’s death in 1921 faculty dominance in seminary policy and practice quickly began to erode.

“Student petitions” made directly to the board of directors also served to alter the academic landscape in the new century. In 1903 students successfully petitioned for the addition of “English Bible” courses (323) into the curriculum. In 1909 a rather pointed petition complained about professors, “slovenly, dull, and uninspiring” classroom teaching (327). This second petition coincided with a drop in enrollment and led the board to recommend to the faculty several changes. However, Warfield’s power and influence was such that, “the board backed off, adopting rather modest recommendations” (328). Warfield advocated, defending to the end of his life, a rigidly proscribed curriculum with essentially no electives. If one wanted to study specialized subjects in the elective offerings a student could only do so, “through a fourth year of education after the required work was completed” (321).

The details of the final reorganization of Princeton in 1929 are largely bound up in the lives of Charles R. Erdman (1866–1960) and J. Gresham Machen (1881–1937). Erdman’s appointment to the faculty in 1905 was not welcome. Moorhead states in particular, “Warfield acted as if the courses of the new professor affronted the integrity of the seminary program” (326). Until his death in 1921 Warfield refused to approve any student majoring in his department of Systematic Theology to pursue a minor in Eerdman’s courses. Machen, and particularly his seminal book, Christianity and Liberalism (1923) and his ecclesiological views are thoroughly discussed (350–69). In 1923 Machen was called to preach at the First Presbyterian Church in Princeton in a “supply” or interim roll when the church was without a pastor (362) and after he was then followed by Erdman, who ultimately was called to be regular pastor, serving for the next ten years. The personal animosity between the two would carry on beyond the Westminster-Princeton split to the issue of missionary work (395–97), where Erdman was the chairman of board of foreign missions and Machen was finalizing creation of a new missions board (which syphoned off scarce money to the existing denominational work). It was this action, not theology, which led to Machen’s defrocking and ultimately to the formation of a new Presbyterian denomination (396).

The reorganization of Princeton in 1929 led to Machen and several others leaving (although they were all invited to remain) Princeton and forming Westminster Theological Seminary. It was really not a “conservative” vs “liberal” split, as Moorhead notes, “to a man, they were conservative” (309), although he perhaps is viewing that 1929 spectrum through a 2012 lens. Not all who theologically agreed with Machen joined him in departing. Gerhardus Vos, Caspar Wistar Hodge Jr., and William Park Armstrong, all remained at Princeton.

Given the detail Moorhead dedicates to the years of 1812–1935, the remainder of this work, covering 1935 to 2004 seems a bit skimpy in comparison. However, the final chapters are informative and a fascinating read. As he noted earlier, “at it’s founding the seminary’s leaders perceived themselves as standing between the extremes of radical Enlightenment and unlettered piety” (281). Moorhead’s narrative shows that the fulcrum of that balance perhaps shifted to the left in the last 50 years.

The work is highly recommended at several levels. Evangelicals and conservatives who lament the “loss” of Princeton with the reorganization will be enlightened and perhaps warned about the dynamics of that era. The issues in seminary education that Princeton has dealt with throughout its history are largely unchanged today and anyone interested in seminary or theological education will benefit from this work. Moorhead writes history with a panache that is both interesting and even-handed, undergirded with a model of scholarly research.