Essay on the Principles of Translation (Tytler)/Chapter 13
CHAP. XIII.
From the consideration of those general rules of translation which in the foregoing essay I have endeavoured to illustrate, it will appear no unnatural conclusion to assert, that he only is perfectly accomplished for the duty of a translator who possesses a genius akin to that of the original author. I do not mean to carry this proposition so far as to affirm, that in order to give a perfect translation of the works of Cicero, a man must actually be as great an orator, or inherit the same extent of philosophical genius; but he must have a mind capable of discerning the full merits of his original, of attending with an acute perception to the whole of his reasoning, and of entering with warmth and energy of feeling into all the beauties of his composition. Thus we shall observe invariably, that the best translators have been those writers who have composed original works of the same species with those which they have translated. The mutilated version which yet remains to us of the Timæus of Plato translated by Cicero, is a masterly composition, which, in the opinion of the best judges, rivals the merit of the original. A similar commendation cannot be bestowed on those fragments of the Phænomena of Aratus translated into verse by the same author; for Cicero's poetical talents were not remarkable: but who can entertain a doubt, that had time spared to us his versions of the orations of Demosthenes and Æschines, we should have found them possessed of the most transcendent merit?
We have observed, in the preceding part of this essay, that poetical translation is less subjected to restraint than prose translation, and allows more of the freedom of original composition. It will hence follow, that to exercise this freedom with propriety, a translator must have the talent of original composition in poetry; and therefore, that in this species of translation, the possession of a genius akin to that of his author, is more essentially necessary than in any other. We know the remark of Denham, that the subtle spirit of poesy evaporates entirely in the transfusion from one language into another, and that unless a new, or an original spirit, is infused by the translator himself, there will remain nothing but a caput mortuum. The best translators of poetry, therefore, have been those who have approved their talents in original poetical composition. Dryden, Pope, Addison, Rowe, Tickell, Pitt, Warton, Mason, and Murphy, rank equally high in the list of original poets, as in that of the translators of poetry.
But as poetical composition is various in its kind, and the characters of the different species of poetry are extremely distinct, and often opposite in their nature, it is very evident that the possession of talents adequate to one species of translation, as to one species of original poetry, will not infer the capacity of excelling in other species of which the character is different. Still further, it may be observed, that as there are certain species of poetical composition, as, for example, the dramatic, which, though of the same general character in all nations, will take a strong tincture of difference from the manners of a country, or the peculiar genius of a people; so it will be found, that a poet, eminent as an original author in his own country, may fail remarkably in attempting to convey, by a translation, an idea of the merits of a foreign work which is tinctured by the national genius of the country which produced it. Of this we have a striking example in those translations from Shakespeare by Voltaire; in which the French poet, great himself in dramatical composition, intended to convey to his countrymen a just idea of our most celebrated author in the same department. But Shakespeare and Voltaire, though perhaps akin to each other in some of the great features of the mind, were widely distinguished even by nature, in the characters of their poetical genius; and this natural distinction was still more sensibly encreased by the general tone of manners, the hue and fashion of thought of their respective countries. Voltaire, in his essay sur la Tragédie Angloise, has chosen the famous soliloquy in the tragedy of Hamlet, "To be, or not to be," as one of those striking passages which best exemplify the genius of Shakespeare, and which, in the words of the French author, demandent grace pour touter ses fautes. It may therefore be presumed, that the translator in this instance endeavoured, as far as lay in his power, not only to adopt the spirit of his author, but to represent him as favourably as possible to his countrymen. Yet, how wonderfully has he metamorphosed, how miserably disfigured him! In the original, we have the perfect picture of a mind deeply agitated, giving vent to its feelings in broken starts of utterance, and in language which plainly indicates, that the speaker is reasoning solely with his own mind, and not with any auditor. In the translation, we have a formal and connected harangue, in which it would appear, that the author, offended with the abrupt manner of the original, and judging those irregular starts of expression to be unsuitable to that precision which is required in abstract reasoning, has corrected, as he thought, those defects of the original, and given union, strength, and precision, to this philosophical argument.
De la vie à la mort, ou de l'être au néant.
Dieux justes, s'il en est, éclairez mon courage.
Faut-il viellir courbé sous la main qui m'outrage,
Supporter, ou finir mon malheur et mon sort?
Que suis-je? qui m'arrête? et qu' est ce que la mort?
C'est la fin de nos maux, c'est mon unique azile;
Après de longs transports, c'est un sommeil tranquile.
On s'endort et tout meurt; mais un affreux reveil,
Doit succéder peutêtre aux douceurs du sommeil.
On nous menace; on dit que cette courte vie
De tourmens éternels est aussitôt suivie.
O mort! moment fatale! affreuse éternité!
Tout cœur à ton seul nom se glace épouvanté
Eh! qui pourrait sans toi supporter cette vie?
De nos prêtres menteurs bénir l'hypocrisie?
Dune indigne maitresse encenser les erreurs?
Ramper sous un ministre, adorer ses hauteurs?
Et montrer les langueurs de son âme abattue,
A des amis ingrats qui detournent la vue?
La mort serait trop douce en ces extrémites.
Mais le scrupule parle, et nous crie, arrêtez.
Il défend à nos mains cet heureux homicide,
Et d'un héros guerrier, fait un Chrétien timide *.
Besides the general fault already noticed, of substituting formal and connected reasoning, to the desultory range of thought and abrupt transitions of the original, Voltaire has in this passage, by the looseness of his paraphrase, allowed some of the most striking beauties, both of the thought and expression, entirely to escape; while he has superadded, with unpardonable licence, several ideas of his own, not only unconnected with the original, but dissonant to the general tenor of the speaker's thoughts. Adopting Voltaire's own style of criticism on the translations of the Abbé des Fontaines, we may ask him, "Where do we find in this translation of Hamlet's soliloquy
"To take arms against a sea of trouble———
"The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
"That flesh is heir to———
—"Perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub———
"The whips and scorns of time———
"The law's delay, the insolence of office———
"The spurns—that patient merit from th' unworthy takes———
"That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
"No traveller returns———?"
Can Voltaire, who has omitted in this short passage all the above striking peculiarities of thought and expression, be said to have given a translation from Shakespeare?
But in return for what he has retrenched from his author, he has made a liberal addition of several new and original ideas of his own. Hamlet, whose character in Shakespeare exhibits the strongest impressions of religion, who feels these impressions even to a degree of superstition, which influences his conduct in the most important exigences, and renders him weak and irresolute, appears in Mr Voltaire's translation a thorough sceptic and freethinker. In the course of a few lines, he expresses his doubt of the existence of a God; he treats the priests as liars and hypocrites, and the Christian religion as a system which debases human nature, and makes a coward of a hero:
De nos prêtres menteurs bénir l'hypocrisie———
Et d'un heros guerrier, fait un Chrêtien timide—
Now, who gave Mr Voltaire a right thus to transmute the pious and superstitious Hamlet into a modern philosophe and Esprit fort? Whether the French author meant by this transmutation to convey to his countrymen a favourable idea of our English bard, we cannot pretend to say; but we may at least affirm, that he has not conveyed a just one *.
But what has prevented the translator, who professes that he wished to give a just idea of the merits of his original, from accomplishing what he wished? Not ignorance of the language; for Voltaire, though no great critic in the English tongue, had yet a competent knowledge of it; and the change he has put upon the reader was not involuntary, or the effect of ignorance. Neither was it the want of genius, or of poetical talents; for Voltaire is certainly one of
[2] the best poets, and one of the greatest ornaments of the drama. But it was the original difference of his genius and that of Shakespeare, increased by the general opposition of the national character of the French and English. His mind, accustomed to connect all ideas of dramatic sublimity or beauty with regular design and perfect symmetry of composition, could not appretiate this union of the great and beautiful with irregularity of structure and partial disproportion. He was capable indeed of discerning some features of majesty in this colossal statue; but the rudeness of the parts, and the want of polish in the whole figure, prevailed over the general impression of its grandeur, and presented it altogether to his eye as a monstrous production.
The genius of Voltaire was more akin to that of Dryden, of Waller, of Addison, and of Pope, than to that of Shakespeare: he has therefore succeeded much better in the translations he has given of particular passages from these poets, than in those he has attempted from our great master of the drama.
Voltaire possessed a large share of wit; but it is of a species peculiar to himself, and which I think has never yet been analysed. It appears to me to be the result of acute philosophical talents, a strong spirit of satire, and a most brilliant imagination. As all wit consists in unexpected combinations, the singular union of a philosophic thought with a lively fancy, which is a very uncommon association, seems in general to be the basis of the wit of Voltaire. It is of a very different species from that wit which is associated with humour, which is exercised in presenting odd, extravagant, but natural views of human character, and which forms the essence of ludicrous composition. The novels of Voltaire have no other scope than to illustrate certain philosophical doctrines, or to expose certain philosophical errors; they are not pictures of life or of manners; and the persons which figure in them are pure creatures of the imagination, fictitious beings, who have nothing of nature in their composition, and who neither act nor reason like the ordinary race of men. Voltaire, then, with a great deal of wit, seems to have had no talent for humorous composition. Now if such is the character of his original genius, we may presume, that he was not capable of justly appreciating in the compositions of others what he did not possess himself. We may likewise fairly conclude, that he should fail in attempting to convey by a translation a just idea of the merits of a work, of which one of the main ingredients is that quality in which he was himself deficient. Of this I proceed to give a strong example.
In the poem of Hudibras, we have a remarkable combination of Wit with Humour; nor is it easy to say which of these qualities chiefly predominates in the composition. A proof that humour forms a most capital ingredient is, that the inimitable Hogarth has told the whole story of the poem in a series of characteristic prints: now painting is completely adequate to the representation of humour, but can convey no idea of wit. Of this singular poem, Voltaire has attempted to give a specimen to his countrymen by a translation; but in this experiment he says he has found it necessary to concentrate the first four hundred lines into little more than eighty of the translation[3]. The truth is, that, either insensible of that part of the merit of the original, or conscious of his own inability to give a just idea of it, he has left out all that constitutes the humour of the painting, and attached himself solely to the wit of the composition. In the original, we have a description of the figure, dress, and accoutrements of Sir Hudibras, which is highly humorous, and which conveys to the imagination as complete a picture as is given by the characteristic etchings of Hogarth. In the translation of Voltaire, all that we learn of those particulars which paint the hero, is, that he wore mustachios, and rode with a pair of pistols.
Even the wit of the original, in passing through the alembic of Voltaire, has changed in a great measure its nature, and assimilated itself to that which is peculiar to the translator. The wit of Butler is more concentrated, more pointed, and is announced in fewer words, than the wit of Voltaire. The translator, therefore, though he pretends to have abridged four hundred verses into eighty, has in truth effected this by the retrenchment of the wit of his original, and not by the concentration of it: for when we compare any particular passage or point, we find there is more diffusion in the translation than in the original. Thus, Butler says,
Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain;
Which made some take him for a tool
That knaves do work with, call'd a fool.
Thus amplified by Voltaire, and at the same time imperfectly translated.
Et son merite, et sa prudence,
Il passa chez quelques savans
Pour être un de ces instrumens
Dont les fripons avec adresse
Savent user sans dire mot,
Et qu' ils tournent avec souplesse;
Cet instrument s' appelle un sot.
Thus likewise the famous simile of Taliacotius, loses, by the amplification of the translator, a great portion of its spirit.
The brawny part of porter's bum
Cut supplemental noses, which
Would last as long as parent breech;
But, when the date of nock was out,
Off dropt the sympathetic snout.
Grand Esculape d'Etrurie,
Répara tous les nez perdus
Par une nouvelle industrie:
Il vous prenoit adroitement
Un morceau du cu d'un pauvre homme,
L'appliquoit au nez proprement;
Enfin il arrivait qu' en somme,
Tout juste à la mort du prêteur
Tombait le nez de l'emprunteur,
Et souvent dans la meme bière,
Par justice et par bon accord,
On remettait au gré du mort
Le nez auprès de son derriere.
It will be allowed, that notwithstanding the supplemental witticism of the translator, contained in the last four lines, the simile loses, upon the whole, very greatly by its diffusion. The following anonymous Latin version of this simile is possessed of much higher merit, as, with equal brevity of expression, it conveys the whole spirit of the original.
Vectoris doctâ secuit Talicotius arte,
Qui potuere parem durando æquare parentem:
At postquam fato clunis computruit, ipsum
Unâ sympathicum cœpit tabescere rostrum.
With these translations may be compared the following, which is taken from a complete version of the poem of Hudibras, a very remarkable work, with the merits of which (as the book is less known than it deserves to be) I am glad to have this opportunity of making the English reader acquainted:
Savoit tailler avec addresse
Nez tous neufs, qui ne risquoient rien
Tant que le cul se portoit bien;
Mais si le cul perdoit la vie,
Le nez tomboit par sympathie.
In one circumstance of this passage, no translation can come up to the original: it is in that additional pleasantry which results from the structure of the verses, the first line ending most unexpectedly with a preposition, and the third with a pronoun, both which are the rhyming syllables in the two couplets:
Cut supplemental noses, which, &c.
It was evidently impossible to imitate this in a translation; but setting this circumstance aside, the merit of the latter French version seems to me to approach very near to that of the original.
The author of this translation of the poem of Hudibras, evidently a man of superior abilities, appears to have been endowed with an uncommon share of modesty. He presents his work to the public with the utmost diffidence; and, in a short preface, humbly deprecates its censure for the presumption that may be imputed to him, in attempting that which the celebrated Voltaire had declared to be one of the most difficult of tasks. Yet this task he has executed in a very masterly manner. A few specimens will shew the high merit of this work, and clearly evince, that the translator possessed that essential requisite for his undertaking, a kindred genius with that of his great original.
The religion of Hudibras is thus described:
To match his learning and his wit:
'Twas Presbyterian true blue;
For he was of that stubborn crew
Of errant saints, whom all men grant
To be the true church-militant:
Such as do build their faith upon
The holy text of pike and gun;
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery;
And prove their doctrine orthodox,
By apostolic blows and knocks.Canto 1.
Et sçavoir étoit assortie;
Il étoit franc Presbyterien,
Et de sa secte le soutien,
Secte, qui justement se vante
D' être l' Eglise militante;
Qui de sa foi vous rend raison
Par la bouche de son canon,
Dont le boulet et feu terrible
Montre bien qu'elle est infallible,
Et sa doctrine prouve à tous
Orthodoxe, à force de coups.
In the following passage, the arch ratiocination of the original is happily rivalled in the translation:
As wisely knowing could he stir
To active trot one side of 's horse,
The other would not hang an a—se.
Ne se chaussoit qu'un éperon,
Ayant preuve démonstrative
Qu'un coté marchant, l'autre arrive.
The language of Sir Hudibras is described as a strange jargon, compounded of English, Greek, and Latin,
They'd heard three labourers of Babel,
Or Cerberus himself pronounce
A leash of languages at once.
It was difficult to do justice in the translation to the metaphor of Cerberus, by translating leash of languages: This, however, is very happily effected by a parallel witticism:
Quand il parloit à l'auditoire,
D'entendre encore le bruit mortel
De trois ouvriers de Babel,
Ou Cerbere aux ames errantes
Japper trois langues différentes.
The wit of the following passage completely transfused perhaps, even heightened in the translation:
Could take the size of pots of ale;
Resolve by sines and tangents straight
If bread or butter wanted weight;
And wisely tell what hour o'th' day
The clock does strike, by algebra.
Un pot de bierre il eut jaugé;
Par tangente et sinus sur l'heure
Trouvé le poids de pain ou beurre,
Et par algebre eut dit aussi
A quelle heure il sonne midi.
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- ↑ To be, or not to be, that is the question:—
Whether 'tis better in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die;—to sleep;
No more?—And by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to;—'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die;—to sleep;—
To sleep! perchance to dream;—ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: There's the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To groan and sweat under a weary life;
But that the dread of something after death—
That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns—puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, &c.
Hamlet, act 3. sc. 1. - ↑ Other ideas superadded by the translator, are,
Que suis-je———Qui m'arrête?—
On nous menace, on dit que cette courte vie, &c.
———Affreuse éternité,
Tout cœur à ton seul nom se glace epouvanté
———A des amis ingrats qui detournent la vue——— - ↑ Pour faire connoitre l'esprit de ce poëme, unique en son genre, il faut retrancher les trois quarts de tout passage qu'on veut traduire; car ce Butler ne finit jamais. J'ai donc réduit à environ quatre-vingt vers les quatre cent premiers vers d'Hudibras, pour éviter la prolixité. Mel. Philos. par Voltaire, Oeuv. tom. 15.