THIRD GENERAL RULE—A TRANSLATION SHOULD HAVE ALL THE EASE OF
ORIGINAL COMPOSITION.—EXTREME DIFFICULTY IN THE OBSERVANCE OF
THIS RULE.—CONTRASTED INSTANCES OF SUCCESS AND FAILURE.—OF THE
NECESSITY OF SOMETIMES SACRIFICING ONE RULE TO ANOTHER
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.[46] 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 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.
Let us proceed to exemplify this third rule of translation, which regards
the attainment of ease of style, by instances both of success and failure.
The familiar style of epistolary correspondence is rarely attainable
even in original composition. It consists in a delicate medium between
the perfect freedom of ordinary conversation and the regularity of
written dissertation or narrative. It is extremely difficult to attain
this delicate medium in a translation; because the writer has neither
a freedom of choice in the sentiments, nor in the mode of expressing
them. Mr. Melmoth appears to me to be a great model in this respect.
His Translations of the _Epistles of Cicero_ and of Pliny have all the
ease of the originals, while they present in general a very faithful
transcript of his author’s sense.
“Surely, _my friend_, your couriers are _a set of the most unconscionable
fellows_. _Not that they have given_ me any particular offence; but as
they never bring me a letter when they arrive here, _is it fair_, they
should always press me for one when they return?” Melmoth, _Cic. Ep._ 10,
20.
_Præposteros habes tabellarios; etsi me quidem non offendunt. Sed tamen
cum a me discedunt, flagitant litteras, cum ad me veniunt, nullas
afferunt._ Cic. Ep. l. 15, ep. 17.
“Is it not more worthy of your _mighty_ ambition, to be blended with your
learned brethren at Rome, than to stand _the sole great wonder of wisdom_
amidst a _parcel of paltry provincials_?” Melmoth, _Cic. Ep._ 2, 23.
_Velim—ibi malis esse ubi aliquo numero sis, quam isthic ubi solus sapere
videare._ Cic. Ep. l. 1, ep. 10.
“_In short_, I plainly perceive your _finances_ are in no flourishing
situation, and I expect to hear the same account of all your neighbours;
so that famine, _my friend, most formidable famine_, must be your _fate_,
if you do not provide against it in due time. And since you have been
reduced to sell your horse, _e’en mount_ your mule, (the only animal,
_it seems_, belonging to you, which you have not yet _sacrificed to your
table_), and _convey yourself_ immediately to Rome. _To encourage you to
do so_, you shall be honoured with a chair and cushion next to mine, and
sit the second _great pedagogue_ in my _celebrated_ school.” Melmoth,
_Cic. Ep._ 8, 22.
_Video te bona perdidisse: spero idem isthuc familiares tuos. Actum
igitur de te est, nisi provides. Potes mulo isto quem tibi reliquum dicis
esse (quando cantherium comedisti) Romam pervehi. Sella tibi erit in
ludo, tanquam hypodidascalo; proxima eam pulvinus sequetur._ Cic. Ep. l.
9, ep. 18.
“Are you not a _pleasant mortal_, to question me concerning the fate of
those estates you mention, when Balbus had just before been _paying you a
visit_?” Melmoth, _Cic. Ep._ 8, 24.
_Non tu homo ridiculus es, qui cum Balbus noster apud te fuerit, ex me
quæras quid de istis municipiis et agris futurum putem?_ Cic. Ep. 9, 17.
“_And now_ I have raised your expectations of this piece, _I doubt_ you
will be disappointed when _it comes to your hands_. In the meanwhile,
however, you may expect it, as something that will please you: _And who
knows but it may?_” Plin. Ep. 8, 3.
_Erexi expectationem tuam; quam vereor ne destituat oratio in manus
sumpta. Interim tamen, tanquam placituram, et fortasse placebit,
expecta._ Plin. Ep. 8, 3.
“I consent to undertake the cause which you so earnestly recommend to me;
but _as glorious and honourable as it may be, I will not be your counsel
without a fee_. Is it possible, you will say, that _my friend Pliny_
should be so mercenary? _In truth it is_; and _I insist upon_ a reward,
which will do me more honour than the most disinterested patronage.”
_Plin. Ep._ 6, 23.
_Impense petis ut agam causam pertinentem ad curam tuam, pulchram
alioquin et famosam. Faciam, sed non gratis. Qui fieri potest (inquis)
ut non gratis tu? Potest: exigam enim mercedem honestiorem gratuito
patrocinio._ Plin. Ep. 8, 3.
To these examples of the ease of epistolary correspondence, I add a
passage from one of the orations of Cicero, which is yet in a strain
of greater familiarity: “A certain mechanic—_What’s his name?—Oh, I’m
obliged to you for helping me to it_: Yes, I mean Polycletus.” Melmoth.
_Artificem—quemnam? Recte admones. Polycletum esse ducebant._ Cicero,
Orat. 2, in Verrem.
In the preceding instances from Mr. Melmoth, the words of the English
translation which are marked in Italics, are those which, in my opinion,
give it the ease of original composition.
But while a translator thus endeavours to transfuse into his work all
the ease of the original, the most correct taste is requisite to prevent
that ease from degenerating into licentiousness. I have, in treating of
the imitation of style and manner, given some examples of the want of
this taste. The most licentious of all translators was Mr. Thomas Brown,
of facetious memory, in whose translations from Lucian we have the most
perfect ease; but it is the ease of Billingsgate and of Wapping. I shall
contrast a few passages of his translation of this author, with those of
another translator, who has given a faithful transcript of the sense of
his original, but from an over-scrupulous fidelity has failed a little in
point of ease.
GNATHON. “What now! Timon, do you strike me? Bear witness, Hercules! O
me, O me! But I will call you into the Areopagus for this. TIMON. Stay a
little only, and you may bring me in guilty of murder.”[47] Francklin’s
_Lucian_.
GNATHON. “Confound him! what a blow he has given me! What’s this for, old
Touchwood? Bear witness, Hercules, that he has struck me. I warrant you,
I shall make you repent of this blow. I’ll indite you upon an action of
the case, and bring you _coram nobis_ for an assault and battery.” TIMON.
“Do, thou confounded law-pimp, do; but if thou stay’st one minute longer,
I’ll beat thee to pap. I’ll make thy bones rattle in thee, like three
blue beans in a blue bladder. Go, stinkard, or else I shall make you
alter your action, and get me indicted for manslaughter.” _Timon_, Trans.
by Brown in Dryden’s _Lucian_.
“On the whole, a most perfect character; we shall see presently, with
all his modesty, what a bawling he will make.” Francklin’s _Lucian_,
_Timon_.[48]
“In fine, he’s a person that knows the world better than any one, and is
extremely well acquainted with the whole Encyclopædia of villany; a true
elaborate finished rascal, and for all he appears so demure now, that
you’d think butter would not melt in his mouth, yet I shall soon make
him open his pipes, and roar like a persecuted bear.” Dryden’s _Lucian_,
_Timon_.
“He changes his name, and instead of Byrria, Dromo, or Tibius, now takes
the name of Megacles, or Megabyzus, or Protarchus, leaving the rest of
the expectants gaping and looking at one another in silent sorrow.”
Francklin’s _Lucian_, _Timon_.[49]
“Straight he changes his name, so that the rascal, who the moment
before had no other title about the house, but, you son of a whore, you
bulk-begotten cur, you scoundrel, must now be called his worship, his
excellency, and the Lord knows what. The best on’t is, that this mushroom
puts all these fellows noses out of joint,” &c. Dryden’s _Lucian_,
_Timon_.
From these contrasted specimens we may decide, that the one translation
of Lucian errs perhaps as much on the score of restraint, as the other on
that of licentiousness. The preceding examples from Melmoth point out,
in my opinion, the just medium of free and spirited translation, for the
attainment of which the most correct taste is requisite.
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 would it be, to sacrifice either the sense
or manner of the original, if these can be preserved consistently
with purity of expression, to a fancied ease or superior gracefulness
of composition. This last is the fault of the French translations of
D’Ablancourt, an author otherwise of very high merit. His versions are
admirable, so long as we forbear to compare them with the originals; they
are models of ease, of elegance, and perspicuity; but he has considered
these qualities as the primary requisites of translation, and both the
sense and manner of his originals are sacrificed, without scruple, to
their attainment.[50]