OTHER CHARACTERISTICS OF COMPOSITION, WHICH RENDER
TRANSLATION DIFFICULT.—ANTIQUATED TERMS—NEW TERMS—VERBA
ARDENTIA.—SIMPLICITY OF THOUGHT AND EXPRESSION—IN PROSE—IN
POETRY.—NAÏVETÉ IN THE LATTER.—CHAULIEU—PARNELL—LA
FONTAINE.—SERIES OF MINUTE DISTINCTIONS MARKED BY
CHARACTERISTIC TERMS.—STRADA.—FLORID STYLE AND VAGUE
EXPRESSION.—PLINY’S NATURAL HISTORY.
In the two preceding chapters I have treated pretty fully of what I have
considered as a principal difficulty in translation, the permutation of
idioms. I shall in this chapter touch upon several other characteristics
of composition, which, in proportion as they are found in original works,
serve greatly to enhance the difficulty of doing complete justice to them
in a translation.
1. The poets, in all languages, have a licence peculiar to themselves,
of employing a mode of expression very remote from the diction of prose,
and still more from that of ordinary speech. Under this licence, it is
customary for them to use antiquated terms, to invent new ones, and to
employ a glowing and rapturous phraseology, or what Cicero terms _Verba
ardentia_. To do justice to these peculiarities in a translation, by
adopting similar terms and phrases, will be found extremely difficult;
yet, without such assimilation, the translation presents no just copy
of the original. It would require no ordinary skill to transfuse into
another language the thoughts of the following passages, in a similar
species of phraseology:
Antiquated Terms:
For Nature crescent doth not grow alone
In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves thee now,
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
The virtue of his will.
SHAK. _Hamlet_, act 1.
New Terms:
So over many a tract
Of heaven they march’d, and many a province wide,
Tenfold the length of this terrene: at last
Far in th’ horizon to the north appear’d
From skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretcht
In battailous aspect, and nearer view
Bristl’d with upright beams innumerable
Of rigid spears, and helmets throng’d, and shields
Various with boastful argument pourtrayed.
_Paradise Lost_, b. 6.
All come to this? the hearts
That spaniel’d me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy.
SHAK. _Ant. & Cleop._ act 4, sc. 10.
Glowing Phraseology, or _Verba ardentia_:
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er ye are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop’d and window’d raggedness defend you
From seasons such as these? Oh, I have ta’en
Too little care of this: Take physic, pomp!
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may’st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just.
SHAK. _K. Lear_.
Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipt of justice! Hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou perjure, and thou simular of virtue,
That art incestuous! Caitiff, shake to pieces,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practis’d on man’s life! Close pent up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and ask
Those dreadful summoners grace.
_Ibid._
Can any mortal mixture of Earth’s mould,
Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?
Sure something holy lodges in that breast,
And with these raptures moves the vocal air
To testify his hidden residence:
How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night;
At every fall smoothing the raven down
Of darkness till it smil’d: I have oft heard,
Amidst the flow’ry-kirtled Naiades,
My mother Circe, with the Sirens three,
Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs,
Who, as they sung, would take the poison’d soul
And lap it in Elysium.——
But such a sacred, and home-felt delight,
Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
I never heard till now.
MILTON’S _Comus_.
2. There is nothing more difficult to imitate successfully in a
translation than that species of composition which conveys just, simple,
and natural thoughts, in plain, unaffected, and perfectly appropriate
terms; and which rejects all those _aucupia sermonis_, those _lenocinia
verborum_, which constitute what is properly termed _florid writing_.
It is much easier to imitate in a translation that kind of composition
(provided it be at all intelligible),[64] which is brilliant and
rhetorical, which employs frequent antitheses, allusions, similes,
metaphors, than it is to give a perfect copy of just, apposite, and
natural sentiments, which are clothed in pure and simple language: For
the former characters are strong and prominent, and therefore easily
caught; whereas the latter have no striking attractions, their merit
eludes altogether the general observation, and is discernible only to the
most correct and chastened taste.
It would be difficult to approach to the beautiful simplicity of
expression of the following passages, in any translation.
“In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant,
it were an injury and sullenness against Nature, not to go out to see her
riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.” Milton’s
_Tract of Education_.
“Can I be made capable of such great expectations, which those animals
know nothing of, (happier by far in this regard than I am, if we must
die alike), only to be disappointed at last? Thus placed, just upon the
confines of another, better world, and fed with hopes of penetrating into
it, and enjoying it, only to make a short appearance here, and then to
be shut out and totally sunk? Must I then, when I bid my last farewell
to these walks, when I close these lids, and yonder blue regions and all
this scene darken upon me and go out; must I then only serve to furnish
dust to be mingled with the ashes of these herds and plants, or with this
dirt under my feet? Have I been set so far above them in life, only to be
levelled with them at death?” Wollaston’s _Rel. of Nature_, sect. ix.
3. The union of just and delicate sentiments with simplicity of
expression, is more rarely found in poetical composition than in prose;
because the enthusiasm of poetry prompts rather to what is brilliant than
what is just, and is always led to clothe its conceptions in that species
of figurative language which is very opposite to simplicity. It is
natural, therefore, to conclude, that in those few instances which are to
be found of a chastened simplicity of thought and expression in poetry,
the difficulty of transfusing the same character into a translation
will be great, in proportion to the difficulty of attaining it in the
original. Of this character are the following beautiful passages from
Chaulieu:
Fontenay, lieu délicieux
Où je vis d’abord la lumiere,
Bientot au bout de ma carriere,
Chez toi je joindrai mes ayeux.
Muses, qui dans ce lieu champêtre
Avec soin me fites nourir,
Beaux arbres, qui m’avez vu naitre,
Bientot vous me verrez mourir.
_Les louanges de la vie champêtre._
Je touche aux derniers instans
De mes plus belles années,
Et déja de mon printems
Toutes les fleurs sont fanées.
Je ne vois, et n’envisage
Pour mon arriere saison,
Que le malheur d’etre sage,
Et l’inutile avantage
De connoitre la raison.
Autrefois mon ignorance
Me fournissoit des plaisirs;
Les erreurs de l’espérance
Faisoient naitre mes désirs.
A present l’experience
M’apprend que la jouissance
De nos biens les plus parfaits
Ne vaut pas l’impatience
Ni l’ardeur de nos souhaits.
La Fortune à ma jeunesse
Offrit l’éclat des grandeurs;
Comme un autre avec souplesse
J’aurois brigué ses faveurs.
Mais sur le peu de mérite
De ceux qu’elle a bien traités,
J’eus honte de la poursuite
De ses aveugles bontés;
Et je passai, quoique donne
D’éclat, et pourpre, et couronne,
Du mépris de la personne,
Au mépris des dignités.[65]
_Poesies diverses de Chaulieu_, p. 44.
4. The foregoing examples exhibit a species of composition, which uniting
just and natural sentiments with simplicity of expression, preserves at
the same time a considerable portion of elevation and dignity. But there
is another species of composition, which, possessing the same union
of natural sentiments with simplicity of expression, is essentially
distinguished from the former by its always partaking, in a considerable
degree, of comic humour. This is that kind of writing which the French
characterise by the term _naif_, and for which we have no perfectly
corresponding expression in English. “Le naif,” says Fontenelle, “est une
nuance du bas.”
In the following fable of Phædrus, there is a _naïveté_, which I think it
is scarcely possible to transfuse into any translation:
_Inops potentem dum vult imitari, perit._
In prato quædam rana conspexit bovem;
Et tacta invidiâ tantæ magnitudinis
Rugosam inflavit pellem: tum natos suos
Interrogavit, _an bove esset latior_.
Illi _negarunt_. Rursus intendit cutem
Majore nisu, et simili quæsivit modo
_Quis major esset?_ Illi dixerunt, _bovem_.
Novissimè indignata, dum vult validius
Inflare sese, rupto jacuit corpore.
It would be extremely difficult to attain, in any translation, the
laconic brevity with which this story is told. There is not a single word
which can be termed superfluous; yet there is nothing wanting to complete
the effect of the picture. The gravity, likewise, of the narrative when
applied to describe an action of the most consummate absurdity; the
self-important, but anxious questions, and the mortifying dryness of
the answers, furnish an example of a delicate species of humour, which
cannot easily be conveyed by corresponding terms in another language. La
Fontaine was better qualified than any another for this attempt. He saw
the merits of the original, and has endeavoured to rival them; but even
La Fontaine has failed.
Une Grenouille vit un boeuf
Qui lui sembla de belle taille.
Elle, qui n’etoit pas grosse en tout comme un oeuf,
Envieuse s’étend, et s’enfle, et se travaille
Pour égaler l’animal en grosseur;
Disant, Regardez bien ma soeur,
Est ce assez, dites moi, n’y suis-je pas encore?
Nenni. M’y voila donc? Point du tout. M’y voila
Vous n’en approchez point. La chetive pecore
S’enfla si bien qu’elle creva.
Le monde est plein de gens qui ne sont pas plus sages,
Tout bourgeois veut batir comme les grands seigneurs;
Tout prince a des ambassadeurs,
Tout marquis veut avoir des pages.
But La Fontaine himself when original, is equally inimitable. The
source of that _naïveté_ which is the characteristic of his fables, has
been ingeniously developed by Marmontel: “Ce n’est pas un poete qui
imagine, ce n’est pas un conteur qui plaisante; c’est un temoin present
à l’action, et qui veut vous rendre present vous-même. Il met tout en
oeuvre de la meilleure foi du monde pour vous persuader; et ce sont
tous ces efforts, c’est le sérieux avec lequel il mêle les plus grandes
choses avec les plus petites; c’est l’importance qu’il attache à des jeux
d’enfans; c’est l’interêt qu’il prend pour un lapin et une belette, qui
font qu’on est tenté de s’écrier a chaque instant, _Le bon homme!_ On le
disoit de lui dans la societé. Son caractere n’a fait que passer dans
ses fables. C’est du fond de ce caractere que sont émanés ces tours si
naturels, ces expressions si naïves, ces images si fideles.”
It would require most uncommon powers to do justice in a translation
to the natural and easy humour which characterises the dialogue in the
following fable:
_Les animaux malades de la Peste._
Un mal qui répand la terreur,
Mal que le ciel en sa fureur
Inventa pour punir les crimes de la terre,
La peste, (puis qu’il faut l’apeller par son nom),
Capable d’enrichir en un jour L’Acheron,
Faisoit aux animaux la guerre.
Ils ne mouroient pas tous, mais tous etoient frappés.
On n’en voyoit point d’occupés
A chercher le soûtien d’une mourante vie;
Nul mets n’excitoit leur envie.
Ni loups ni renards n’épioient
La douce et l’innocente proye.
Les tourterelles se fuyoient;
Plus d’amour, partant plus de joye.
Le Lion tint conseil, et dit, Mes chers amis,
Je crois que le ciel a permis
Pour nos pechés cette infortune:
Que le plus coupable de nous
Se sacrifie aux traits du céleste courroux;
Peut-être il obtiendra la guérison commune.
L’histoire nous apprend qu’en de tels accidents,
On fait de pareils dévoûements:
Ne nous flattons donc point, voions sans indulgence
L’état de notre conscience.
Pour moi, satisfaisant mes appetits gloutons
J’ai dévoré force moutons;
Que m’avoient-ils fait? Nulle offense:
Même il m’est arrivé quelquefois de manger le Berger.
Je me dévoûrai donc, s’il le faut; mais je pense
Qu’il est bon que chacun s’accuse ainsi que moi;
Car on doit souhaiter, selon toute justice,
Que le plus coupable périsse.
Sire, dit le Renard, vous êtes trop bon roi;
Vos scrupules font voir trop de délicatesse;
Eh bien, manger moutons, canaille, sotte espece,
Est-ce un péchê? Non, non: Vous leur fites, seigneur,
En les croquant beaucoup d’honneur:
Et quant au Berger, l’on peut dire
Qu’il etoit digne de tous maux,
Etant de ces gens-là qui sur les animaux
Se font un chimérique empire.
Ainsi dit le Renard, et flatteurs d’applaudir.
On n’osa trop approfondir
Du Tigre, ni de l’Ours, ni des autres puissances
Les moins pardonnables offenses.
Tous les gens querelleurs, jusqu’aux simples mâtins
Au dire de chacun, etoient de petits saints.
L’âne vint à son tour, et dit, J’ai souvenance
Qu’en un pré de moines passant,
La faim, l’occasion, l’herbe tendre, et je pense
Quelque diable aussi me poussant,
Je tondis de ce pré la largeur de ma langue:
Je n’en avois nul droit, puisqu’il faut parler net.
À ces mots on cria haro sur le baudet:
Un loup quelque peu clerc prouva par sa harangue
Qu’il falloit dévoüer ce maudit animal,
Ce pelé, ce galeux, d’ou venoit tout leur mal.
Sa peccadille fut jugee un cas pendable;
Manger l’herbe d’autrui, quel crime abominable!
Rien que la mort n’etoit capable
D’expier son forfait, on le lui fit bien voir.
Selon que vous serez puissant ou misérable,
Les jugements de cour vous rendront blanc ou noir.
5. No compositions will be found more difficult to be translated, than
those descriptions, in which a series of minute distinctions are marked
by characteristic terms, each peculiarly appropriated to the thing to
be designed, but many of them so nearly synonymous, or so approaching
to each other, as to be clearly understood only by those who possess
the most critical knowledge of the language of the original, and a
very competent skill in the subject treated of. I have always regarded
Strada’s _Contest of the Musician and Nightingale_, as a composition
which almost bids defiance to the art of a translator. The reader will
easily perceive the extreme difficulty of giving the full, distinct, and
appropriate meaning of those expressions marked in Italics.
Jam Sol a medio pronus deflexerat orbe,
Mitius e radiis vibrans crinalibus ignem:
Cum fidicen propter Tiberina fluenta, sonanti
Lenibat plectro curas, æstumque levabat,
Ilice defensus nigra, scenaque virenti.
Audiit hunc hospes sylvæ philomela propinquæ,
Musa loci, nemoris Siren, innoxia Siren;
Et prope succedens stetit abdita frondibus, altè
Accipiens sonitum, secumque remurmurat, et quos
Ille modos variat digitis, hæc gutture reddit.
Sensit se fidicen philomela imitante referri,
Et placuit ludum volucri dare; plenius ergo
Explorat citharam, tentamentumque futuræ
Præbeat ut pugnæ, percurrit protinus omnes
Impulsu pernice fides. Nec segnius illa
Mille per excurrens variæ discrimina vocis,
Venturi specimen præfert argutula cantûs.
Tunc fidicen per fila movens trepidantia dextram,
Nunc contemnenti similis _diverberat ungue,_
_Depectitque pari chordas et simplice ductu:_
_Nunc carptim replicat, digitisque micantibus urget,_
_Fila minutatim, celerique repercutit ictu._
Mox silet. Illa modis totidem respondet, et artem
Arte refert. Nunc, ceu rudis aut incerta canendi,
Projicit in longum, _nulloque plicatile flexu,_
_Carmen init simili serie, jugique tenore_
Præbet iter liquidum labenti e pectore voci:
Nunc _cæsim variat, modulisque canora minutis_
_Delibrat vocem_, tremuloque reciprocat ore.
Miratur fidicen parvis è faucibus ire
Tam varium, tam dulce melos: majoraque tentans,
_Alternat mira arte fides_; dum _torquet acutas_
_Inciditque, graves operoso verbere pulsat_,
Permiscetque simul _certantia rauca sonoris_;
Ceu resides in bella viros clangore lacessat.
Hoc etiam philomela canit: dumque ore liquenti
_Vibrat acuta sonum, modulisque interplicat æquis_;
Ex inopinato gravis intonat, et _leve murmur_
_Turbinat introrsus, alternantique sonore,_
_Clarat et infuscat_, ceu martia classica pulset.
Scilicet erubuit fidicen, iraque calente,
Aut non hoc, inquit, referes, citharistia sylvæ,
Aut fractâ cedam citharâ. Nec plura locutus,
Non imitabilibus plectrum concentibus urget.
Namque manu per fila volat, simul hos, simul illos
Explorat numeros, chordâque laborat in omni;
Et _strepit et tinnit_, crescitque superbius, et se
_Multiplicat relegens, plenoque choreumate plaudit_.
Tum stetit expectans si quid paret æmula contra.
Illa autem, quanquam vox dudum exercita fauces
Asperat, impatiens vinci, simul advocat omnes
Necquicquam vires: nam dum discrimina tanta
Reddere tot fidium nativa et simplice tentat
Voce, canaliculisque imitari grandia parvis,
Impar magnanimis ausis, imparque dolori,
Deficit, et vitam summo in certamine linquens,
Victoris cadit in plectrum, par nacta sepulchrum.
He that should attempt a translation of this most artful composition,
_dum tentat discrimina tanta reddere_, would probably, like the
nightingale, find himself _impar magnanimis ausis_.[66]
It must be here remarked, that Strada has not the merit of originality
in this characteristic description of the song of the Nightingale. He
found it in Pliny, and with still greater amplitude, and variety of
discrimination. He seems even to have taken from that author the hint of
his fable: “Digna miratu avis. Primum, tanta vox tam parvo in corpusculo,
tam pertinax spiritus. Deinde in una perfecta musicæ scientia modulatus
editur sonus; et nunc continuo spiritu trahitur in longum, nunc variatur
inflexo, nunc distinguitur conciso, copulatur intorto, promittitur
revocato, infuscatur ex inopinato: interdum et secum ipse murmurat,
plenus, gravis, acutus, creber, extentus; ubi visum est vibrans, summus,
medius, imus. Breviterque omnia tam parvulis in faucibus, quæ tot
exquisitis tibiarum tormentis ars hominum excogitavit.—Certant inter se,
palamque animosa contentio est. Victa morte finit sæpe vitam, spiritu
prius deficiente quam cantu.” Plin. _Nat. Hist._ lib. 10, c. 29.
It would perhaps be still more difficult to give a perfect translation
of this passage from Pliny, than of the fable of Strada. The attempt,
however, has been made by an old English author, Philemon Holland; and
it is curious to remark the extraordinary shifts to which he has been
reduced in the search of corresponding expressions:
_Explorat numeros, chordaque laborat in omni._
“Surely this bird is not to be set in the last place of those that
deserve admiration; for is it not a wonder, that so loud and clear a
voice should come from so little a body? Is it not as strange, that
shee should hold her wind so long, and continue with it as shee doth?
Moreover, shee alone in her song keepeth time and measure truly, she
riseth and falleth in her note just with the rules of music, and perfect
harmony; for one while, in one entire breath she drawes out her tune
at length treatable; another while she quavereth, and goeth away as
fast in her running points: sometimes she maketh stops and short cuts
in her notes; another time she gathereth in her wind, and singeth
descant between the plain song: she fetcheth in her breath again, and
then you shall have her in her catches and divisions: anon, all on a
sudden, before a man would think it, she drowneth her voice that one
can scarce heare her; now and then she seemeth to record to herself,
and then she breaketh out to sing voluntarie. In sum, she varieth and
altereth her voice to all keies: one while full of her largs, longs,
briefs, semibriefs, and minims; another while in her crotchets, quavers,
semiquavers, and double semiquavers: for at one time you shall hear her
voice full of loud, another time as low; and anon shrill and on high;
thick and short when she list; drawn out at leisure again when she is
disposed; and then, (if she be so pleased), shee riseth and mounteth
up aloft, as it were with a wind organ. Thus shee altereth from one to
another, and sings all parts, the treble, the mean, and the base. To
conclude, there is not a pipe or instrument devised with all the art and
cunning of man, that can affoord more musick than this pretty bird doth
out of that little throat of hers.—They strive who can do best, and one
laboreth to excel another in variety of song and long continuance; yea,
and evident it is that they contend in good earnest with all their will
and power: for oftentimes she that hath the worse, and is not able to
hold out with another, dieth for it, and sooner giveth she up her vitall
breath, than giveth over her song.”
The consideration of the above passage in the original, leads to the
following remark.
5. There is no species of writing so difficult to be translated, as
that where the character of the style is florid, and the expression
consequently vague, and of indefinite meaning. The natural history of
Pliny furnishes innumerable examples of this fault; and hence it will
ever be found one of the most difficult works to be translated. A short
chapter shall be here analyzed, as an instructive specimen.
_Lib._ 11, _Cap._ 2.
In magnis siquidem corporibus, aut certe majoribus, facilis officina
sequaci materia fuit. In his tam parvis atque tam nullis, quæ ratio,
quanta vis, quam inextricabilis perfectio! Ubi tot sensus collocavit in
culice? Et sunt alia dictu minora. Sed ubi visum in eo prætendit? Ubi
gustatum applicavit? Ubi odoratum inseruit? Ubi vero truculentam illam
et portione maximam vocem ingeneravit? Qua subtilitate pennas adnexuit?
Prælongavit pedum crura? disposuit jejunam caveam, uti alvum? Avidam
sanguinis et potissimum humani sitim accendit? Telum vero perfodiendo
tergori, quo spiculavit ingenio? Atque ut in capaci, cum cerni non possit
exilitas, ita reciproca geminavit arte, ut fodiendo acuminatum, pariter
sorbendoque fistulosum esset. Quos teredini ad perforanda robora cum sono
teste dentes affixit? Potissimumque e ligno cibatum fecit? Sed turrigeros
elephantorum miramur humeros, taurorumque colla, et truces in sublime
jactus, tigrium rapinas, leonum jubas; cùm rerum natura nusquam magis
quam in minimis tota sit. Quapropter quæso, ne hæc legentes, quoniam ex
his spernunt multa, etiam relata fastidio damnent, cùm in contemplatione
naturæ, nihil possit videri supervacuum.
Although, after the perusal of the whole of this chapter, we are at
no loss to understand its general meaning, yet when it is taken
to pieces, we shall find it extremely difficult to give a precise
interpretation, much less an elegant translation of its single sentences.
The latter indeed may be accounted impossible, without the exercise
of such liberties as will render the version rather a paraphrase than
a translation. _In magnis siquidem corporibus, aut certe majoribus,
facilis officina sequaci materiæ fuit._ The sense of the term magnus,
which is in itself indefinite, becomes in this sentence much more so,
from its opposition to _major_; and the reader is quite at a loss to
know, whether in those two classes of animals, the _magni_ and the
_majores_, the largest animals are signified by the former term, or by
the latter. Had the opposition been between _magnus_ and _maximus_, or
_major_ and _maximus_, there could not have been the smallest ambiguity.
_Facilis officina sequaci materiæ fuit._ _Officina_ is the workhouse
where an artist exercises his craft; but no author, except Pliny himself,
ever employed it to signify the labour of the artist. With a similar
incorrectness of expression, which, however, is justified by general use,
the French employ _cuisine_ to signify both the place where victuals are
dressed, and the art of dressing them. _Sequax materia_ signifies pliable
materials, and therefore easily wrought; but the term _sequax_ cannot
be applied with any propriety to such materials as are easily wrought,
on account of their magnitude or abundance. _Tam parvis_ is easily
understood, but _tam nullis_ has either no meaning at all, or a very
obscure one. _Inextricabilis perfectio._ It is no perfection in anything
to be inextricable; for the meaning of inextricable is, embroiled,
perplexed, and confounded. _Ubi tot sensus collocavit in culice?_ What is
the meaning of the question _ubi_? Does it mean, in what part of the body
of the gnat? I conceive it can mean nothing else: And if so, the question
is absurd; for all the senses of a gnat are not placed in any _one_ part
of its body, any more than the senses of a man. _Dictu minora._ By these
words the author intended to convey the meaning of _alia etiam minora
possunt dici_; but the meaning which he has actually conveyed is, _Sunt
alia minora quam quæ dici possunt_, which is false and hyperbolical;
for no insect is so small that words may not be found to convey an idea
of its size. _Portione maximam vocem ingeneravit._ What is _portione
maximam_? It is only from the context that we guess the author’s meaning
to be, _maximam ratione portionis_, i. e. _magnitudinis insecti_; for
neither use, nor the analogy of the language, justify such an expression
as _vocem maximam portione_. If it is alledged, that _portio_ is here
used to signify the power or intensity of the voice, and is synonymous in
this place to _vis_, ενεργεια, we may safely assert, that this use of the
term is licentious, improper, and unwarranted by custom. _Jejunam caveam
uti alvum_; “a hungry cavity for a belly:” but is not the stomach of all
animals a hungry cavity, as well as that of the gnat? _Capaci cum cernere
non potest exilitas._ _Capax_ is improperly contrasted with _exilis_, and
cannot be otherwise translated than in the sense of _magnus_. _Reciproca
geminavit arte_ is incapable of any translation which shall render the
proper sense of the words, “doubled with reciprocal art.” The author’s
meaning is, “fitted for a double function.” _Cum sono teste_ is guessed
from the context to mean, _uti sonus testatur_. _Cum rerum natura nusquam
magis quam in minimis tota sit._ This is a very obscure expression of a
plain sentiment, “The wisdom and power of Providence, or of Nature, is
never more conspicuous than in the smallest bodies.” Ex his _spernunt
multa_. The meaning of _ex his_ is indefinite, and therefore obscure: we
can but conjecture that it means _ex rebus hujusmodi_; and not _ex his
quæ diximus_; for that sense is reserved for _relata_.
From this specimen, we may judge of the difficulty of giving a _just
translation_ of Pliny’s _Natural History_.