DIFFICULTY OF TRANSLATING DON QUIXOTE, FROM ITS
IDIOMATIC PHRASEOLOGY.—OF THE BEST TRANSLATIONS OF THAT
ROMANCE.—COMPARISON OF THE TRANSLATION BY MOTTEUX WITH THAT BY
SMOLLET.
There is perhaps no book to which it is more difficult to do perfect
justice in a translation than the _Don Quixote_ of Cervantes. This
difficulty arises from the extreme frequency of its idiomatic phrases. As
the Spanish language is in itself highly idiomatical, even the narrative
part of the book is on that account difficult; but the colloquial part
is studiously filled with idioms, as one of the principal characters
continually expresses himself in proverbs. Of this work there have
been many English translations, executed, as may be supposed, with
various degrees of merit. The two best of these, in my opinion, are the
translations of Motteux and Smollet, both of them writers eminently well
qualified for the task they undertook. It will not be foreign to the
purpose of this Essay, if I shall here make a short comparative estimate
of the merit of these translations.[57]
Smollet inherited from nature a strong sense of ridicule, a great fund
of original humour, and a happy versatility of talent, by which he could
accommodate his style to almost every species of writing. He could adopt
alternately the solemn, the lively, the sarcastic, the burlesque, and
the vulgar. To these qualifications he joined an inventive genius, and a
vigorous imagination. As he possessed talents equal to the composition of
original works of the same species with the romance of Cervantes; so it
is not perhaps possible to conceive a writer more completely qualified to
give a perfect translation of that romance.
Motteux, with no great abilities as an original writer, appears to me
to have been endowed with a strong perception of the ridiculous in
human character; a just discernment of the weaknesses and follies of
mankind. He seems likewise to have had a great command of the various
styles which are accommodated to the expression both of grave burlesque,
and of low humour. Inferior to Smollet in inventive genius, he seems
to have equalled him in every quality which was essentially requisite
to a translator of _Don Quixote_. It may therefore be supposed, that
the contest between them will be nearly equal, and the question of
preference very difficult to be decided. It would have been so, had
Smollet confided in his own strength, and bestowed on his task that time
and labour which the length and difficulty of the work required: but
Smollet too often wrote in such circumstances, that dispatch was his
primary object. He found various English translations at hand, which he
judged might save him the labour of a new composition. Jarvis could give
him faithfully the sense of his author; and it was necessary, only to
polish his asperities, and lighten his heavy and aukward phraseology. To
contend with Motteux, Smollet found it necessary to assume the armour of
Jarvis. This author had purposely avoided, through the whole of his work,
the smallest coincidence of expression with Motteux, whom, with equal
presumption and injustice, he accuses in his preface of having “taken his
version wholly from the French.”[58] We find, therefore, both in the
translation of Jarvis and in that of Smollet, which is little else than
an improved edition of the former, that there is a studied rejection
of the phraseology of Motteux. Now, Motteux, though he has frequently
assumed too great a licence, both in adding to and retrenching from the
ideas of his original, has upon the whole a very high degree of merit
as a translator. In the adoption of corresponding idioms he has been
eminently fortunate, and, as in these there is no great latitude, he has
in general preoccupied the appropriated phrases; so that a succeeding
translator, who proceeded on the rule of invariably rejecting his
phraseology, must have, in general, altered for the worse. Such, I have
said, was the rule laid down by Jarvis, and by his copyist and improver,
Smollet, who by thus absurdly rejecting what his own judgement and taste
must have approved, has produced a composition decidedly inferior, on the
whole, to that of Motteux. While I justify the opinion I have now given,
by comparing several passages of both translations, I shall readily allow
full credit to the performance of Smollet, wherever I find that there is
a real superiority to the work of his rival translator.
After Don Quixote’s unfortunate encounter with the Yanguesian carriers,
in which the Knight, Sancho, and Rozinante, were all most grievously
mauled, his faithful squire lays his master across his ass, and conducts
him to the nearest inn, where a miserable bed is made up for him in a
cock-loft. Cervantes then proceeds as follows:
_En esta maldita cama se accostó Don Quixote: y luego la ventera y su
hija le emplastáron de arriba abaxo, alumbrandoles Maritornes: que
asi se llamaba la Asturiana. Y como al vizmalle, viese la ventera tan
acardenalado á partes á Don Quixote, dixo que aquello mas parecian golpes
que caida. No fuéron golpes, dixo Sancho, sino que la peña tenia muchos
picos y tropezones, y que cada uno habia hecho su cardinal, y tambien le
dixo: haga vuestra merced, señora, de manera que queden algunas estopas,
que no faltará quien las haya menester, que tambien me duelen á mí un
poco los lomos. Desa manera, respondió la ventera, tambien debistes vos
de caer? No caí, dico Sancho Panza, sino que del sobresalto que tome de
ver caer á mí amo, de tal manera me duele á mí el cuerpo, que me parece
que me han dado mil palos._
_Translation by Motteux_
“In this ungracious bed was the Knight laid to rest his belaboured
carcase; and presently the hostess and her daughter anointed and
plastered him all over, while Maritornes (for that was the name of the
Asturian wench) held the candle. The hostess, while she greased him,
wondering to see him so bruised all over, I fancy, said she, those bumps
look much more like a dry beating than a fall. ’Twas no dry beating,
mistress, I promise you, quoth Sancho; but the rock had I know not how
many cragged ends and knobs, and every one of them gave my master a
token of its kindness. And by the way, forsooth, continued he, I beseech
you save a little of that same tow and ointment for me too, for I don’t
know what’s the matter with my back, but I fancy I stand mainly in
want of a little greasing too. What, I suppose you fell too, quoth the
landlady. Not I, quoth Sancho, but the very fright that I took to see my
master tumble down the rock, has so wrought upon my body, that I am as
sore as if I had been sadly mauled.”
_Translation by Smollet_
“In this wretched bed Don Quixote having laid himself down, was anointed
from head to foot by the good woman and her daughter, while Maritornes
(that was the Asturian’s name) stood hard by, holding a light. The
landlady, in the course of her application, perceiving the Knight’s whole
body black and blue, observed, that those marks seemed rather the effects
of drubbing than of a fall; but Sancho affirmed she was mistaken, and
that the marks in question were occasioned by the knobs and corners of
the rocks among which he fell. And now, I think of it, said he, pray,
Madam, manage matters so as to leave a little of your ointment, for it
will be needed, I’ll assure you: my own loins are none of the soundest at
present. What, did you fall too, said she? I can’t say I did, answered
the squire; but I was so infected by seeing my master tumble, that my
whole body akes, as much as if I had been cudgelled without mercy.”
Of these two translations, it will hardly be denied that Motteux’s is
both easier in point of style, and conveys more forcibly the humour of
the dialogue in the original. A few contrasted phrases will shew clearly
the superiority of the former.
_Motteux._ “In this ungracious bed was the Knight laid to rest his
belaboured carcase.”
_Smollet._ “In this wretched bed Don Quixote having laid himself down.”
_Motteux._ “While Maritornes (for that was the name of the Asturian
wench) held the candle.”
_Smollet._ “While Maritornes (that was the Asturian’s name) stood hard
by, holding a light.”
_Motteux._ “The hostess, while she greased him.”
_Smollet._ “The landlady, in the course of her application.”
_Motteux._ “I fancy, said she, those bumps look much more like a dry
beating than a fall.”
_Smollet._ “Observed, that those marks seemed rather the effect of
drubbing than of a fall.”
_Motteux._ “’Twas no dry beating, mistress, I promise you, quoth Sancho.”
_Smollet._ “But Sancho affirmed she was in a mistake.”
_Motteux._ “And, by the way, forsooth, continued he, I beseech you save
a little of that same tow and ointment for me; for I don’t know what’s
the matter with my back, but I fancy I stand mainly in need of a little
greasing too.”
_Smollet._ “And now, I think of it, said he, pray, Madam, manage matters
so as to leave a little of your ointment, for it will be needed, I’ll
assure you: my own loins are none of the soundest at present.”
_Motteux._ “What, I suppose you fell too, quoth the landlady? Not I,
quoth Sancho, but the very fright,” &c.
_Smollet._ “What, did you fall too, said she? I can’t say I did, answered
the squire; but I was so infected,” &c.
There is not only more ease of expression and force of humour in
Motteux’s translation of the above passages than in Smollet’s, but
greater fidelity to the original. In one part, _no fueron golpes_,
Smollet has improperly changed the first person for the third, or the
colloquial style for the narrative, which materially weakens the spirit
of the passage. _Cada uno habia hecho su cardenal_ is most happily
translated by Motteux, “every one of them gave him a token of its
kindness;” but in Smollet’s version, this spirited clause of the sentence
evaporates altogether.—_Algunas estopas_ is more faithfully rendered by
Motteux than by Smollet. In the latter part of the passage, when the
hostess jeeringly says to Sancho, _Desa manera tambien debistes vos de
caer?_ the squire, impatient to wipe off that sly insinuation against the
veracity of his story, hastily answers, _No cai_. To this Motteux has
done ample justice, “Not I, quoth Sancho.” But Smollet, instead of the
arch effrontery which the author meant to mark by this answer, gives a
tame apologetic air to the squire’s reply, “I can’t say I did, answered
the squire.” _Don Quix._ par. 1, cap. 16.
Don Quixote and Sancho, travelling in the night through a desert valley,
have their ears assailed at once by a combination of the most horrible
sounds, the roaring of cataracts, clanking of chains, and loud strokes
repeated at regular intervals; all which persuade the Knight, that his
courage is immediately to be tried in a most perilous adventure. Under
this impression, he felicitates himself on the immortal renown he is
about to acquire, and brandishing his lance, thus addresses Sancho, whose
joints are quaking with affright:
_Asi que aprieta un poco las cinchas a Rocinante, y quédate a Dios, y
asperame aqui hasta tres dias, no mas, en los quales si no volviere,
puedes tú volverte á nuestra aldea, y desde allí, por hacerme merced
y buena obra, irás al Toboso, donde dirás al incomparable señora mia
Dulcinea, que su cautivo caballero murió por acometer cosas, que le
hiciesen digno de poder llamarse suyo._ Don Quix. par. 1, cap. 20.
_Translation by Motteux_
“Come, girth Rozinante straiter, and then Providence protect thee: Thou
may’st stay for me here; but if I do not return in three days, go back to
our village, and from thence, for my sake, to Toboso, where thou shalt
say to my incomparable lady Dulcinea, that her faithful knight fell a
sacrifice to love and honour, while he attempted things that might have
made him worthy to be called her adorer.”
_Translation by Smollet_
“Therefore straiten Rozinante’s girth, recommend thyself to God, and wait
for me in this place, three days at farthest; within which time if I come
not back, thou mayest return to our village, and, as the last favour and
service done to me, go from thence to Toboso, and inform my incomparable
mistress Dulcinea, that her captive knight died in attempting things that
might render him worthy to be called her lover.”
On comparing these two translations, that of Smollet appears to me to
have better preserved the ludicrous solemnity of the original. This is
particularly observable in the beginning of the sentence, where there
is a most humorous association of two counsels very opposite in their
nature, the recommending himself to God, and girding Rozinante. In the
request, “and as the last favour and service done to me, go from thence
to Toboso;” the translations of Smollet and Motteux are, perhaps, nearly
equal in point of solemnity, but the simplicity of the original is better
preserved by Smollet.[59]
Sancho, after endeavouring in vain to dissuade his master from engaging
in this perilous adventure, takes advantage of the darkness to tie
Rozinante’s legs together, and thus to prevent him from stirring from
the spot; which being done, to divert the Knight’s impatience under this
supposed enchantment, he proceeds to tell him, in his usual strain of
rustic buffoonery, a long story of a cock and a bull, which thus begins:
“_Erase que se era, el bien que viniere para todos sea, y el mal para
quien lo fuere á buscar; y advierta vuestra merced, señor mio, que el
principio que los antiguos dieron a sus consejas, no fue así como quiera,
que fue una sentencia de Caton Zonzorino Romano que dice, y el mal para
quien lo fuere á buscar._” Ibid.
In this passage, the chief difficulties that occur to the translator
are, _first_, the beginning, which seems to be a customary prologue to
a nursery-tale among the Spaniards, which must therefore be translated
by a corresponding phraseology in English; and _secondly_, the blunder
of _Caton Zonzorino_. Both these are, I think, most happily hit off by
Motteux. “In the days of yore, when it was as it was, good betide us all,
and evil to him that evil seeks. And here, Sir, you are to take notice,
that they of old did not begin their tales in an ordinary way; for ’twas
a saying of a wise man, whom they call’d Cato the Roman Tonsor, that
said, Evil to him that evil seeks.” Smollet thus translates the passage:
“There was, so there was; the good that shall fall betide us all; and he
that seeks evil may meet with the devil. Your worship may take notice,
that the beginning of the ancient tales is not just what came into the
head of the teller: no, they always began with some saying of Cato, the
censor of Rome, like this, of “He that seeks evil may meet with the
devil.”
The beginning of the story, thus translated, has neither any meaning in
itself, nor does it resemble the usual preface of a foolish tale. Instead
of _Caton Zonzorino_, a blunder which apologises for the mention of Cato
by such an ignorant clown as Sancho, we find the blunder rectified by
Smollet, and Cato distinguished by his proper epithet of the Censor.
This is a manifest impropriety in the last translator, for which no
other cause can be assigned, than that his predecessor had preoccupied
the blunder of _Cato the Tonsor_, which, though not a translation of
_Zonzorino_, (the purblind), was yet a very happy parallelism.
In the course of the same cock-and-bull story, Sancho thus proceeds:
“_Asi que, yendo dias y viniendo dias, el diablo que no duerme y que
todo lo añasca, hizo de manera, que el amor que el pastor tenia á su
pastora se volviese en omecillo y mala voluntad, y la causa fué segun
malas lenguas, una cierta cantidad de zelillos que ella le dió, tales
que pasaban de la raya, y llegaban á lo vedado, y fue tanto lo que el
pastor la aborreció de alli adelante, que por on verla se quiso ausentar
de aquella tierra, é irse donde sus ojos no la viesen jamas: la Toralva,
que se vió desdeñada del Lope, luego le quiso bien mas que nunca le habla
querido._” Ibid.
_Translation by Motteux_
“Well, but, as you know, days come and go, and time and straw makes
medlars ripe; so it happened, that after several days coming and going,
the devil, who seldom lies dead in a ditch, but will have a finger in
every pye, so brought it about, that the shepherd fell out with his
sweetheart, insomuch that the love he bore her turned into dudgeon and
ill-will; and the cause was, by report of some mischievous tale-carriers,
that bore no good-will to either party, for that the shepherd thought
her no better than she should be, a little loose i’ the hilts, &c.[60]
Thereupon being grievous in the dumps about it, and now bitterly hating
her, he e’en resolved to leave that country to get out of her sight: for
now, as every dog has his day, the wench perceiving he came no longer a
suitering to her, but rather toss’d his nose at her and shunn’d her, she
began to love him, and doat upon him like any thing.”
I believe it will be allowed, that the above translation not only conveys
the complete sense and spirit of the original, but that it greatly
improves upon its humour. When Smollet came to translate this passage,
he must have severely felt the hardship of that law he had imposed on
himself, of invariably rejecting the expressions of Motteux, who had in
this instance been eminently fortunate. It will not therefore surprise
us, if we find the new translator to have here failed as remarkably as
his predecessor has succeeded.
_Translation by Smollet_
“And so, in process of time, the devil, who never sleeps, but _wants to
have a finger in every pye_, managed matters in such a manner, that the
shepherd’s love for the shepherdess was turned into malice and deadly
hate: and the cause, according to evil tongues, was a certain quantity
of small jealousies she gave him, exceeding all bounds of measure. And
such was the abhorrence the shepherd conceived for her, that, in order
to avoid the sight of her, he resolved to absent himself from his own
country, and go where he should never set eyes on her again. Toralvo
finding herself despised by Lope, began to love him more than ever.”
Smollet, conscious that in the above passage Motteux had given the best
possible _free_ translation, and that he had supplanted him in the
choice of corresponding idioms, seems to have piqued himself on a rigid
adherence to the very _letter_ of his original. The only English idiom,
being a plagiarism from Motteux, “_wants to have a finger in every pye_,”
seems to have been adopted from absolute necessity: the Spanish phrase
would not bear a literal version, and no other idiom was to be found but
that which Motteux had preoccupied.
From an inflexible adherence to the same law, of invariably rejecting the
phraseology of Motteux, we find in every page of this new translation
numberless changes for the worse:
_Se que no mira de mal ojo á la mochacha._
“I have observed he casts a sheep’s eye at the wench.” _Motteux._
“I can perceive he has no dislike to the girl.” _Smollet._
_Teresa me pusieron en el bautismo, nombre mondo y escueto, sin
anadiduras, ni cortopizas, ni arrequives de Dones ni Donas._
“I was christened plain Teresa, without any fiddle-faddle, or addition of
Madam, or Your Ladyship.” _Motteux._
“Teresa was I christened, a bare and simple name, without the addition,
garniture, and embroidery of Don or Donna.” _Smollet._
_Sigue tu cuenta, Sancho._
“Go on with thy story, Sancho.” _Motteux._
“Follow thy story, Sancho.” _Smollet._
_Yo confieso que he andado algo risueño en demasía._
“I confess I carried the jest too far.” _Motteux._
“I see I have exceeded a little in my pleasantry.” _Smollet._
_De mis viñas vengo, no se nada, no soy amigo de saber vidas agenas._
“I never thrust my nose into other men’s porridge; it’s no bread and
butter of mine: Every man for himself, and God for us all, say I.”
_Motteux._
“I prune my own vine, and I know nothing about thine. I never meddle with
other people’s concerns.” _Smollet._
_Y advierta que ya tengo edad para dar consejos. Quien bien tiene, y mal
escoge, por bien que se enoja, no se venga._[61]
“Come, Master, I have hair enough in my beard to make a counsellor: he
that will not when he may, when he will he shall have nay.” _Motteux._
“Take notice that I am of an age to give good counsels. He that hath
good in his view, and yet will not evil eschew, his folly deserveth to
rue.” _Smollet._ Rather than adopt a corresponding proverb, as Motteux
has done, Smollet chuses, in this instance, and in many others, to make
a proverb for himself, by giving a literal version of the original in a
sort of doggrel rhime.
_Vive Roque, que es la señora nuestra amo mas ligera que un alcotan, y
que puede enseñar al mas diestro Cordobes o Mexicano._
“By the Lord Harry, quoth Sancho, our Lady Mistress is as nimble as an
eel. Let me be hang’d, if I don’t think she might teach the best Jockey
in Cordova or Mexico to mount a-horseback.” _Motteux._
“By St. Roque, cried Sancho, my Lady Mistress is as light as a hawk,[62]
and can teach the most dexterous horseman to ride.” _Smollet._
The chapter which treats of the puppet-show, is well translated both by
Motteux and Smollet. But the discourse of the boy who explains the story
of the piece, in Motteux’s translation, appears somewhat more consonant
to the phraseology commonly used on such occasions: “Now, gentlemen, in
the next place, mark that personage that peeps out there with a crown on
his head, and a sceptre in his hand: That’s the Emperor Charlemain.—Mind
how the Emperor turns his back upon him.—Don’t you see that Moor;—hear
what a smack he gives on her sweet lips,—and see how she spits, and wipes
her mouth with her white smock-sleeve. See how she takes on, and tears
her hair for very madness, as if it was to blame for this affront.—Now
mind what a din and hurly-burly there is.” _Motteux._ This jargon appears
to me to be more characteristic of the speaker than the following: “And
that personage who now appears with a crown on his head and a sceptre in
his hand, is the Emperor Charlemagne.—Behold how the Emperor turns about
and walks off.—Don’t you see that Moor;—Now mind how he prints a kiss in
the very middle of her lips, and with what eagerness she spits, and wipes
them with the sleeve of her shift, lamenting aloud, and tearing for anger
her beautiful hair, as if it had been guilty of the transgression.”[63]
In the same scene of the puppet-show, the scraps of the old Moorish
ballad are translated by Motteux with a corresponding naïveté of
expression, which it seems to me impossible to exceed:
_Jugando está á las tablas Don Gayféros,_
_Que y a de Melisendra está olvidado._
Now Gayferos the live-long day,
Oh, errant shame! at draughts doth play;
And, as at court most husbands do,
Forgets his lady fair and true. _Motteux._
Now Gayferos at tables playing,
Of Melisendra thinks no more. _Smollet._
_Caballero, si á Francia ides,_
_Por Gayféros preguntad._
Quoth Melisendra, if perchance,
Sir Traveller, you go for France,
For pity’s sake, ask, when you’re there,
For Gayferos, my husband dear. _Motteux._
Sir Knight, if you to France do go,
For Gayferos inquire. _Smollet._
How miserably does the new translator sink in the above comparison! Yet
Smollet was a good poet, and most of the verse translations interspersed
through this work are executed with ability. It is on this head that
Motteux has assumed to himself the greatest licence. He has very
presumptuously mutilated the poetry of Cervantes, by leaving out many
entire stanzas from the larger compositions, and suppressing some of
the smaller altogether: Yet the translation of those parts which he has
retained, is possessed of much poetical merit; and in particular, those
verses which are of a graver cast, are, in my opinion, superior to those
of his rival. The song in the first volume, which in the original is
intitled _Cancion de Grisōstomo_, and which Motteux has intitled, _The
Despairing Lover_, is greatly abridged by the suppression of more than
one half of the stanzas in the original; but the translation, so far as
it goes, is highly poetical. The translation of this song by Smollet,
though inferior as a poem, is, perhaps, more valuable on the whole,
because more complete. There is, however, only a single passage in which
he maintains with Motteux a contest which is nearly equal:
O thou, whose cruelty and hate,
The tortures of my breast proclaim,
Behold, how willingly to fate
I offer this devoted frame.
If thou, when I am past all pain,
Shouldst think my fall deserves a tear,
Let not one single drop distain
Those eyes, so killing and so clear.
No! rather let thy mirth display
The joys that in thy bosom flow:
Ah! need I bid that heart be gay,
Which always triumph’d in my woe. _Smollet._
It will be allowed that there is much merit in these lines, and that
the last stanza in particular is eminently beautiful and delicate. Yet
there is in my opinion an equal vein of poetry, and more passion, in the
corresponding verses of Motteux:
O thou, by whose destructive hate
I’m hurry’d to this doleful fate,
When I’m no more, thy pity spare!
I dread thy tears; oh, spare them then—
But, oh! I rave, I was too vain—
My death can never cost a tear! _Motteux._
In the song of Cardenio, there is a happy combination of tenderness of
expression with ingenious thought; the versification is likewise of a
peculiar structure, the second line forming an echo to the first. This
song has been translated in a corresponding measure both by Motteux and
Smollet; but by the latter with far inferior merit.
CANCION DE CARDENIO
I
Quien menoscaba mis bienes?
Desdenes.
Y quien aumenta mis duelos?
Los Zelos.
Y quien prueba mi paciencia?
Ausencia.
De ese modo en mi dolencia,
Ningun remedio se alcanza;
Pues me matan la Esperanza,
Desdenes, Zelos, y Ausencia.
II
Quien me causa este dolor?
Amor.
Y quien mi gloria repuna?
Fortuna.
Y quien consiente mi duelo?
El Cielo.
De ese modo yo rezelo,
Morir deste mal extraño,
Pues se aunan en mì daño
Amor, Fortuna, y el Cielo.
III
Quien mejorará mi suerte?
La Muerte.
Y el bien de amor, quien le alcanza?
Mudanza.
Y sus malos quien los cura?
Locura.
De ese modo no es cordura
Querer curar la pasion;
Quando los remedios son
Muerte, Mudanza, y Locura.
CARDENIO’S SONG, by MOTTEUX
I
What makes me languish and complain?
O, ’tis _Disdain_!
What yet more fiercely tortures me?
’Tis _Jealousy_.
How have I my patience lost?
By _Absence_ crost.
Then Hope, farewell, there’s no relief;
I sink beneath oppressing grief;
Nor can a wretch, without despair,
_Scorn_, _Jealousy_, and _Absence_, bear.
II
What in my breast this anguish drove?
Intruding _Love_.
Who could such mighty ills create?
Blind _Fortune’s_ hate.
What cruel powers my fate approve?
The _Powers_ above.
Then let me bear, and cease to moan;
’Tis glorious thus to be undone:
When these invade, who dares oppose?
_Heaven_, _Love_, and _Fortune_ are my foes.
III
Where shall I find a speedy cure?
Oh! _Death_ is sure.
No milder means to set me free?
_Inconstancy._
Can nothing else my pains assuage?
_Distracting Rage._
What, die or change? Lucinda lose?
O let me rather madness chuse!
But judge, ye gods, what we endure,
When _death_ or _madness_ are a cure!
In the last four lines, Motteux has used more liberty with the thought
of the original than is allowable for a translator. It must be owned,
however, that he has much improved it.
CARDENIO’S SONG, by SMOLLET
I
Ah! what inspires my woful strain?
Unkind Disdain!
Ah! what augments my misery?
Fell Jealousy!
Or say what hath my patience worn?
An absent lover’s scorn!
The torments then that I endure
No mortal remedy can cure:
For every languid hope is slain
By Absence, Jealousy, Disdain.
II
From Love, my unrelenting foe,
These sorrows flow:
My infant glory’s overthrown
By Fortune’s frown.
Confirm’d in this my wretched state
By the decrees of Fate,
In death alone I hope release
From this compounded dire disease,
Whose cruel pangs to aggravate,
Fortune and Love conspire with Fate!
III
Ah! what will mitigate my doom?
The silent tomb.
Ah! what retrieve departed joy?
Inconstancy!
Or say, can ought but frenzy bear
This tempest of despair!
All other efforts then are vain
To cure this soul-tormenting pain,
That owns no other remedy
Than madness, death, inconstancy.
“The torments then that I endure—no _mortal_ remedy can cure.” Who ever
heard of a _mortal_ remedy? or who could expect to be cured by it? In the
next line, the epithet of _languid_ is injudiciously given to Hope in
this place; for a _languid_ or a _languishing_ hope was already dying,
and needed not so powerful a host of murderers to _slay_ it, as Absence,
Jealousy, and Disdain.—In short, the latter translation appears to me to
be on the whole of much inferior merit to the former. I have remarked,
that Motteux excels his rival chiefly in the translation of those poems
that are of a graver cast. But perhaps he is censurable for having thrown
too much gravity into the poems that are interspersed in this work, as
Smollet is blameable on the opposite account, of having given them too
much the air of burlesque. In the song which Don Quixote composed while
he was doing penance in the _Sierra-Morena_, beginning _Arboles, Yerbas
y Plantas_, every stanza of which ends with _Del Toboso_, the author
intended, that the composition should be quite characteristic of its
author, a ludicrous compound of gravity and absurdity. In the translation
of Motteux there is perhaps too much gravity; but Smollet has rendered
the composition altogether burlesque. The same remark is applicable to
the song of Antonio, beginning _Yo sé, Olalla, que me adoras_, and to
many of the other poems.
On the whole, I am inclined to think, that the version of Motteux is
by far the best we have yet seen of the Romance of Cervantes; and that
if corrected in its licentious abbreviations and enlargements, and
in some other particulars which I have noticed in the course of this
comparison, we should have nothing to desire superior to it in the way of
translation.