[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
ornamented, or the simple and unaffected; and these characteristic
qualities he must have the capacity of rendering equally
conspicuous in the translation as in the original. If a translator fails
in this discernment, and wants this capacity, let him be ever so
thoroughly master of the sense of his author, he will present him
through a distorting medium, or exhibit him often in a garb that is
unsuitable to his character.
But a translator may discern the general character of his author s
style, and yet fail remarkably in the imitation of it. Unless he is
possessed of the most correct taste, he will be in continual danger
of presenting an exaggerated picture or a caricature of his
original. The distinction between good and bad writing is often
of so very slender a nature, and the shadowing of difference so
extremely delicate, that a very nice perception alone can at all
times define its limit. Thus, in the hands of some translators,
who have the discernment to perceive the general character of
their author s style, but want this correctness of taste, the grave
style of the original becomes heavy and formal in the translation;
the elevated swells into bombast, the lively froths up into the
petulant, and the simple and naif degenerates into the childish
and insipid.
From all the preceding observations respecting the imitation of
style, we may derive this precept, that a Translator ought always to
figure to himself, in what manner the original author would have
Longer statements 131
expressed himself, if he had written in the language of the
translation.
This precept leads to the examination, and probably to the decision, of
a question which has admitted of some dispute, Whether a poem can be
well translated into prose?
There are certain species of poetry, of which the chief merit consists in
the sweetness and melody of the versification. Of these it is evident, that
the very essence must perish in translating them into prose.
But a great deal of the beauty of every regular poem consists in the
melody of its numbers. Sensible of this truth, many of the prose
translators of poetry have attempted to give a sort of measure to
their prose, which removes it from the nature of ordinary language.
If this measure is uniform, and its return regular, the composition is
no longer prose, but blank verse. If it is not uniform, and does not
regularly return upon the ear, the composition will be more
unharmonious, than if the measure had been entirely neglected. Of
this, Mr. Macpherson s translation of the Iliad is a strong example.
But it is not only by the measure that poetry is distinguishable
from prose. It is by the character of its thoughts and sentiments,
and by the nature of that language in which they are clothed. A
boldness of figures, a luxuriancy of imagery, a frequent use of
metaphors, a quickness of transition, a liberty of digressing; all
these are not only allowable in poetry, but to many species of it,
essential. But they are quite unsuitable to the character of prose.
When seen in a prose translation, they appear preposterous and out
of place, because they are never found in an original prose composition.
The difficulty of translating poetry into prose, is different in its degree,
according to the nature or species of the poem. Didactic poetry, of which
the principal merit consists in the detail of a regular system, or in rational
precepts which flow from each other in a connected train of thought,
will evidently suffer least by being transfused into prose. But every
didactic poet judiciously enriches his work with such ornaments as are
not strictly attached to his subject. In a prose translation of such a poem,
all that is strictly systematic or receptive may be transfused with propriety;
all the rest, which belongs to embellishment, will be found impertinent
and out of place.
132 Translation/History/Culture
But there are certain species of poetry, of the merits of which it will be
found impossible to convey the smallest idea in a prose translation. Such
is Lyric poetry, where a greater degree of irregularity of thought, and a
more unrestrained exuberance of fancy, is allowable than in any other
species of composition. To attempt, therefore, a translation of a lyric
poem into prose, is the most absurd of all undertakings; for those very
characters of the original which are essential to it, and which constitute
its highest beauties, if transferred to a prose translation, become
unpardonable blemishes. The excursive range of the sentiments, and
the play of fancy, which we admire in the original, degenerate in the
translation into mere raving and impertinence.
We may certainly, from the foregoing observations, conclude, that it is
impossible to do complete justice to any species of poetical composition
in a prose translation; in other words, that none but a poet can translate
a poet.
It remains now that we consider the third general law of translation.
In order that the merit of the original work may be so completely
transfused as to produce its full effect, it is necessary, not only that the
translation should contain a perfect transcript of the sentiments of the
original, and present likewise a resemblance of its style and manner;
but, that the translation should have all the ease of original
composition.
When we consider those restraints within which a translator
finds himself necessarily confined, with regard to the sentiments
and manner of his original, it will soon appear that this last
requisite includes the most difficult part of his task. To one who
walks in trammels, it is not easy to exhibit an air of grace and
freedom. It is difficult, even for a capital painter, to preserve in a
copy of a picture all the ease and spirit of the original; yet the
painter employs precisely the same colours, and has no other care
than faithfully to imitate the touch and manner of the picture that
is before him. If the original is easy and graceful, the copy will
have the same qualities, in proportion as the imitation is just and
perfect. The translator s task is very different: he uses not the same
colours with the original, but is required to give his picture the
same force and effect. He is not allowed to copy the touches of the
original, yet is required, by touches of his own, to produce a perfect
resemblance. The more he studies a scrupulous imitation, the less
his copy will reflect the ease and spirit of the original. How then
Longer statements 133
shall a translator accomplish this difficult union of ease with
fidelity? To use a bold expression, he must adopt the very soul of
his author, which must speak through his own organs.
If the order in which I have classed the three general laws of
translation is their just and natural arrangement, which I think will
hardly be denied, it will follow, that in all cases where a sacrifice is
necessary to be made of one of those laws to another, a due regard
ought to be paid to their rank and comparative importance. The
different genius of the languages of the original and translation,
will often make it necessary to depart from the manner of the
original, in order to convey a faithful picture of the sense; but it
would be highly preposterous to depart, in any case, from the
sense, for the sake of imitating the manner. Equally improper
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]