INTRODUCTION.
To the following translations a preface is, indeed, scarcely requisite. There is little more to observe, than that they form but a small portion of a series, long since accumulated on the Translator’s shelves, from which specimens, (mostly in verse,) appeared occasionally in Blackwood’s Magazine,[1] and that they are now printed in consequence of that increasing interest which seems lately to have been excited in favour of German stories.
Not only have such publications been already received with approbation, but several others are announced as in the press, for which change, our extended intercourse with the Continent is one obvious reason. Critics, who before talked glibly of the German school, (as if there were but one,) begin to perceive, that in this neglected language, which hitherto rarely formed a branch of what is called liberal education, every possible variety of composition and style may be discovered. Such prejudices being cleared away, versions, therefore, of minor German novels, without alteration, may prove acceptable now, as those from Italian sources were popular and current two centuries ago.
The first narrative in this collection, “Mademoiselle de Scuderi,” is one of the few examples afforded by Hoffmann of a plain historical style, in opposition to the wildness and bizarrerie in which he usually indulged. The repulsive crimes of Brinvilliers are well known; but probably Cardillac’s character is altogether of his own invention; and it is so well supported, that, as a good story may bear to be twice told, there is the less reason to regret an accidental collision in this instance between the present writer, and the author of several spirited translations which came out at Glasgow some time after the first of these volumes had gone to press. For the rest, it is believed that they are as yet wholly new to the English public.
“Scharfenstein Castle,” is by the Baroness de la Motte Fouqué, whose story of the “Cypress Wreath” appeared in Blackwood’s Magazine for 1819, and was not only reprinted in other periodicals, but converted into a popular tract, and circulated over England. “Rolandsitten,” (another of Hoffmann’s,) though it seems to have been very hastily written, contains an exuberance of plot, from which, if the materials were subjected to a process of remodelling, three separate dramas or tales might be constructed.
“George Selding,” had the scene been changed to England or Scotland, might (in good hands) have made an excellent sketch of domestic life, after the manner of Miss Edgeworth—or rather, perhaps, that of the author of “Lights and Shadows.”
The “Siege of Antwerp,” here but a rough outline, is yet admirably conceived, and might supply the ground-work for a historical novel in three volumes.
“Wallburga’s Night” is a pretty fair specimen of supernatural or fairy legend; while “Oath and Conscience,”—and the “Crystal Dagger” by Professor Kruse of Copenhagen, though but minor productions of his pen, prove his ingenuity in the contrivance of mysterious and intricate plot.
The “Spectre Bride” and the “Sisters” are among those numberless ghost stories, of which the late M. G. Lewis has been the only successful adaptor; and the sketch entitled the “Warning,” is from a “Ghost-book” published at Ruddolstadt in 1817, where the narratives are, for the most part, founded on real events.
After these brief notices, the translator feels aware that any remarks he should wish to add might be interpreted, however erroneously, into censure instead of approval—not only of these volumes, but of other versions which have been published, or are likely to appear from the same language. This, of course, would be absurd and inrevelant,—nor is it his intention to offer any such opinions. But, that German authors, if anglicized, not as on the present and on other occasions, by the mere process of translation, but subjected to that of a remaniement or refacimento, will prove infinitely more acceptable than they have ever yet been to the British public, he is thoroughly convinced. On this principle, alone were various scenes in his dramatic specimens rendered in the estimation of most readers effective, and it is on this principle only, (though it has at present been laid aside) that he intends to renew these employments with regard to foreign literature, which have been long interrupted by other avocations.
It is, indeed, scarcely possible to imagine two civilized countries, between which there is found a more striking difference in regard to language and moods of mind, than that which exists between Germany and modern England. If we return to the period from the reign of Elizabeth to that of Charles I., however, many points of resemblance are discovered. Even the language of England was then more plastic,—there were daring spirits who made trials of its power,—theatrical authors, (as for the last ten years in Germany,) especially flourished,—and to such members of the Roxburgh or Bannatyne club as have been in the habit of reading, not Black-Letter books alone, but the prose and verse generally of our early times, even literal translations from the stores of a Leipsig circulating library might appear familiar and congenial.
Doubtless, it must be allowed that our ideas, and to a certain extent our emotions, depend on the language in which they are to be conceived and embodied; and while in Great Britain one might almost say that intellectual energies are restrained by the strict conventional forms in which they are to be expressed,—in Germany, every nuance of thought can at once be seized and communicated; in proof of which, it is only necessary to observe, that many passages in Shakespeare, which excite doubts even in an English commentator, are rendered by Voss and Schlegel clear and effective. Still better examples are afforded by the versions of Homer, Sophocles, and Eschylus, proving that the most difficult Greek may be transfused faithfully into a modern tongue. Calderon too, and portions of Lope de Vega, whose works might resist the best efforts of an English artist, have been revived and brought out with perfect similitude and facility.
Such desultory remarks may be thought irrelevant in a preface to three little volumes, selected from the works of minor novelists; nor, though the language be rich and flexible, will it follow that such authors should always take advantage of the power thus afforded them. German readers are, in fact, very easily excited, and in their popular romances, while incident and character are by no means wanting, yet these are seldom or never brought forward in that style of alto relievo which has become indispensable in this country. On the contrary, the novelist may come before the public as often as he thinks proper, in night-gown and slippers, quite assured that he will be greeted with as much good will (if not as much respect) as if he were in gala attire, with brilliant stars and red ribbons. The minor arts of composition are often disregarded. Metaphors are confused and broken; long passages of tame dialogue are allowable, and the same word may be used, not always in the same sense, ten times within one page. Notwithstanding all this, the book may have its share of ingenuity and interest;—it should be remembered, too, that no longer than sixty years ago, the literature of our German neighbours was, comparatively speaking, in its infancy; and, even now, they are many times satisfied with bold outline sketches in crayon. Hence the vast extent of their productions, like those in the portfolio of a painter, of which the number always exceeds incalculably that of his finished works.
A connoisseur will fix his attention on these as willingly as on the largest gallery pictures of the same artist, while a mere soi-disant critic will treat them with disdain,—not recollecting, that to be fastidious is, in ninety-nine cases out of each hundred, no proof of taste, but of perceptions blunted and obtuse.
Edinburgh, October 10, 1826.
- ↑ Horæ Germanicæ.