The Press. — London, England, 1856-08-23 00:00:00

AUGUST 23, 1856. yittraturt. Pictures of Travel. Translated from the German of Henry Heine, by Charles G. Leland. London: Triibner. IT is a pity that translation does not rank higher in literary efforts. Heine is a writer who would richly repay the trouble of any competent author who would undertake to present an English version of his works ; but as yet the German poet has not been fortunate in our tongue. On his general characteristics as a thinker and writer we need not now enter, as we discussed them in reviewing Mr. Wallis's translations (ante, p. 352). We ob• serve, however, that a strong posthumous interest exists about Heine, and that, with all his faults of bitterness and mocking levity, numbers like to peruse his moody, yet musical, effusions. The faults of Heine, and his eccentricities, commend him to the regard of so "queer" a public as the Americans. In our settled and sober country writers like Heine can only ob tain a timid recognition. Their works are treated like poison bottles by chemists, used cautiously, and kept apart by themselves. Scoffers never have been popular with Eng lish society. The Deists of the days of Toland and Collins were sober, grave, and argumentative, rather than sneering or jocose ; and the English mind would not much ap prove of genius when allied with so much morbidness as was in Heine's nature. For a certain portion of the American world, however. Heine is the author calculated to please. A quasi-philosophical school has grown up at the other side of the Atlantic, and strange books are written and read by it, and we observe that it is beginning to influ ence some classes of English society, who may be described as " Americanised." As conservators of the proprieties of English literature, critics will henceforward have to repel the incursions of American style. The translator of the present volume intro duces his subject it a preface, where we meet with passages like the following : Whether Heine's genius and influence has been inva riably and immediately exerted for good or for evil, is, and ever should be, for the impartial student of literature and of history, a matter of supreme indifference. The greatest and most important developments are those whose real aims and value are first appreciated by posterity. If pro gress be the peculiar law of humanity, it is not less cer tain that agitation is the mainspring of progress, and that, as a general rule, all agitations, however disagreeable they may have appeared to contemporaries, have advanced the world. Those who extol the advantages of civilisation, and yet decry Alexander and Cesar, the Crusades, the French Revolution and Napoleon, resemble the lady who loved veal but would fain have the butcher punished for cruelty. The first thought in that passage is calculated to startle. The sentiment would be " as " tonishing, if true." The illustration of the veal-loving lady hitched into the same sen tence with Alexander and Caesar is of that grotesque sort which passes for " original " with the rabid admirers of Mr. Carlyle. The continuation, also, is in the Carlylian style:— In an extended common-sense view, those who thus lose all thought of the effect in the cause, are no better than thoughtless thieves, who would fain defraud the Spirit of Progress of the high yet legal price which he sets upon his wares. Such goods as happiness, and improved social culture, can only be bought for blood and suffering. Such is the law, but we must, in justice to the merchant, admit, that as his business has improved and his run of custom increased, he has shown a commendable alacrity in lower mg his prices. Further on we are informed that— Heine most emphatically belongs to that class of writers who are a scandal to the weaker brethren, a terror to the strong, and a puzzle to the conservatively wise of their own day and generation, but who are received by the intelligent contemporary with a smile, and •by the after-corner with thanks. He belongs to that great band, whose laughter has been in its inner soul more moving than the most fervid flow of serious eloquence—to the band which num bered Lucian and Rabelais, and Swift, among its members —men who lashed into motion the sleepy world of the day, with all its " baroque-ish " virtues and vices. The translator does not understand the spirit of his author. Heine was a poet at heart. There was wailing pathos and lyrical sweetness, and vivid fancy, in his writings : he was bitter, not heartless ; and had nothin THE PRESS. of the riotous spirits of Rabelais or Swift, and little of the sustained airiness of Lucian. The volume contains both poetry and prose, and a vast mass of matter is compressed into its pages ; and, as Heine is now attracting much curiosity, we shall give some extracts. The translator succeeds best in prose. His verses want finish and melody, but they often contain the thoughts of the original author. Here is a fine thought put into a picture in a manner highly characteristic of Heine:— Calm is the night, and the city is sleeping,— Once in this house dwelt a lady fair ; Long, long ago, she left it, weeping, But still the old house is standing there. Yonder a man at the heavens is staring, Wringing his hands as in sorrowful case : He turns to the moonlight, his countenance baring— Oh, heaven ! he shows me my own sad face ! Shadowy form, with my own agreeing ; Why mockest thou thus, in the moonlight cold, The sorrows which here once vexed my being, Many a night in the days of old ? But the translator's verse hobbles most la mentably, and betrays want of ear and prac tice. The following poem is rendered with partial success. Its comic gusto can certainly be appreciated : They gave me advice and council in store, P•aised me and honoured me, more and more ; Said that I only should " wait awhile." Offered their patronage too, with a smile. But with all their honour and approbation, I should, long ago, have died of starvation; Had there not come an excellent man, Who bravely to help me along began. Good fellow !—he got me the food I ate, His kindness and care I shall never forget ; Yet I cannot embrace him—though other folks can, For I myself am this excellent man ! The following is also executed with tolerable success : This world and this life are too broken for me, And therefore a German professor I'll be ; He can well put all the fragments together, Into a system, convenient and terse ; While with his night•cap, and dressing•robe tatters, He'll stop up the chinks of the wide Universe. The sentiment of the original is preserved in the following, but the third stanza as rendered by the translator is feeble : And those are still the heavenly eyes, Which mine would gently greet; And those are still the coral lips, Which once made life so sweet. 'Tis the same voice of melody, I once so gladly heard ; I, only, am no more the same, But changed in thought and word. Now by those white and rounded arms, I'm passionately pressed ; And 1;e upon her heart and feel, Gloomy and ill at rest. But such doggrel as the following is unpar donable : Scarce had we met, when, in glance and in tone, I saw that your favorable notice I'd got : And if we had only been standing alone, I really believe we'd have kissed on the spot. There is too much of the same slipshod style in the versification of this translator. In politics Heine was a continental "Liberal" of that incongruous school which admired Napoleon, and looked with hope to George Canning. Heine's appreciation of the peculiar intellectual gifts of Napoleon is thoroughly critical, and there is deep truth in the following passage : Napoleon's spirit saw through that which we learn by weary analytical reflection, and long deduction of conse quences, and comprehended it in one and the same moment. Thence came his talent to understand his age, to cajole its spirit into never abusing him, and being ever profitable to him. But as this spirit cf the age is not only revolutionary, but is formed by the antagonism of both sides, the revolu tionary and the counterrevolutionary, so did Napoleon act, not according to either alone, but according to the spirit of both principles, both efforts, which found in him their union, and he accordingly always acted naturally, simply, and greatly; never convulsively and harshly—ever com posed and calm. Therefore he never intrigued in details, and his striking effects were ever brought about by his ability to comprehend and to bend the masses to his will. Little analytical souls incline to entangled, wearisome in trigues, while, on the contrary, synthetic intuitive spirits understand in a wondrously genial manner, so to avail themselves of the means which are afforded them by the present, as quickly to turn them to their own advantage. The former often founder, because no mortal wisdom can foresee all the events of life, and life's relations are never long permanent ; the latter, on the contrary, the intuitive men, succeed most easily in their designs, as they only require an accurate computation of that which is at hand, and act so quickly, that their calculations are not miscar• 807 ried by any ordinary agitation, or by any sudden unfore seen changes. It is a fortunate coincidence that Napoleon lived just in an age which had a remarkable inclination for history, tor research, and for publication. Owing to this cause, thanks to the memoirs of contemporaries, but few particulars of Napoleon's life have been withheld from us, and the num ber of histories which represent him as more or leu allied to the rest of the world, increase every day. That was written in 1826, and all the revela tions of Napoleon since then, especially his private correspondence with King J useph, prove what Heine, after Kant, calls his " intuitive synthesis." Without " synthesis " there cannot be wholeness of aim, or largeness of view; and without intuition there cannot be promptitude of perception. Napoleon possessed these in the highest degree, and he also had amazing energy. Goethe had synthetic and intuitive faculties, but he lacked the physical hardi hood and iron nerve required for a Napoleon. The speculations of Heine on the politics of thirty years since, have sometimes been con firmed, but often refuted, by events. The following passage is interesting, and has pcint, in spite of its obvious errors, even at the pre sent time : It really seems as though more spiritual than material interests were now being fought out, and as though universal history were no longer a robber•legend, but a ghost story. The grand lever which ambitious and avari cious princes were once wont to employ so industriously— that is to say, nationality, with all its vanity and hatred, is now musty and used up ; day by day the ridiculous preju dices of races are disappearing; all harsh peculiarities are disappearing in the universality of European civilisation, there are nu longer nations but parties, and it is wonderful to behold how these, despite the most varied colours, recognise each other, and make themselves mutually in telligible, notwithstanding the difference of language. As there is a material policy of States, so there is also a spiri tual party policy ; and as the States' policy would quickly bring to a general, zealous European war the smallest strife which should sprisig up between the smallest powers, where interest is the governing principle, so, on the other hand, the smallest strife could not take place in which, owing to the party policy already alluded to, the general spiritual tendencies and meanings would not be at once understood, and by which the most distant and hetero geneous parties would find themselves compelled to take side pro or contra. On account of this party policy, which I call a spiritual policy, because its interests are more spiritual and its ultinus rationes not metallic, they now form, as if by the medium of the States' policy, two great masses opposed to each other, fighting with glance and word. The watchwords and representatives of these two great parties change day by day—there is no lack of confusion—the greatest mis understandings often arise, and these are often rather in creased than explained by the authors, who form the diplomatists of the spiritual party; but though heads may err, hearts still feel what they need, and time presses on with her great question. There is, doubtless, an important truth in the distinction between " a material state policy " and "a spiritual state policy." Some countries are successful by pursuit of the first, and others by the last. In commercial empires there is always a dangerous tendency to a merely " material policy." The " English Fragments " (more pro. perly " Fragments on England ") translated in this volume are often acute, but on the whole they are not equal to their anther's reputation. Heine could not appreciate Wellington, but at that time (1828) the Great Duke did not receive proper recognition from his own countrymen. He writes, also, of " the noble Canning," and " the wretched Castlereagh," and some of his canting democracy excites disgust. But the following passage on Lon don echoes the feelings of many fanciful natures : I have seen the greatest wonder which the world cart show to the astonished spirit, I have seen it and am still astonished—and still there remains fixed in my memory the stone forest of houses, and amid them the rushing stream of faces of living men with all their motley passions, all their terrible impulses of love, of hunger, and of hatred mean London. Send a philosopher to London, but, for your life, no poet Send a philosopher there, and stand him at a corner of Cheapside, where he will learn more than from all the books of the last Leipsio fair; and a S the billows of human life roar around him, so will a sea of new thoughts rise before him, and the Eternal Spirit which moves upon the face of the waters will breathe upon him ; the most hidden secrets of social harmony will be suddenly revealed to him, he will hear the pulse of the world beat audibly, and see it visibly—for, if London is the right hand of the world—its active mighty right hand—then we may regard the route which leads from the Exchange to Downing -street as the world's pyloric artery. . . _ . . .. But never send a poet to London! This downright earnestness of all things, this colossal uniformity, this machine-like movement, this troubled spirit in pleasure itself, this exaggerated London, smothers the imagination and rends the heart. And should you ever send a German poet thitherww dreamer, who stares at everythiog, ev. a