# Essay on the Principles of Translation (Tytler)/Chapter 4

CHAP. IV.
The liberty of adding or retrenching is more peculiarly allowable in poetical than in prose translations, "I conceive it," says Sir John Denham, "a vulgar error in translating Poets, to affect being fidus interpres. Let that care ​be with them who deal in matters of fact or matters of faith; but whosoever aims at it in poetry, as he attempts what is not required, so shall he never perform what he attempts; for it is not his business alone to translate language into language, but poetic into poesie; and poesie is of so subtle a spirit, that in pouring out of one language into another, it will all evaporate; and if a new spirit is not added. in the transfusion, there will remain nothing but a caput mortuum." Denham's Preface to the 2d book of Virgil's Æneid.
In poetical translation, the English Writers of the 16th, and the greatest part of the 17th century, seem to have had no other care than (in Denham's phrase) to ​translate language into language, and to have placed their whole merit in presenting a literal and servile transcript of their original.
Ben Jonson, in his translation of Horace's Art of Poetry, has paid no attention to the judicious precept of the very poem he was translating.
Witness the following specimens, which will strongly illustrate Denham's judicious observations.
​Of the same character for rigid fidelity, is the translation of Juvenal by Holiday, a writer of great learning, and even of critical acuteness, as the excellent commentary on his author fully shews.
​There were, however, even in that age, some writers who manifested a better taste in poetical translation. May, in his translation of Lucan, and Sandys, in his Metamorphoses of Ovid, while they strictly adhered to the sense of their authors, and generally rendered line for line, have given to their versions both an ease of expression and a harmony of numbers, which approach them very near to original composition. The reason is, they have disdained to confine themselves to a literal interpretation; but have every where adapted their expression to the idiom of the language in which they wrote.
In the above example, the solantia tollite verba is translated with peculiar feli​city, "Silent be all sounds of comfort;" as are these words, Nec quo prius ore nitebat, "Which, oh! but ill express'd his "forme and beautie." "No mortal bands could force his stay," has no strictly corresponding sentiment in the original. It is a happy amplification; which shews that Sandys knew what freedom was allowed to a poetical translator, and could avail himself of it.
From the time of Sandys, who published his translation of the Metamorphoses of Ovid in 1626, there does not appear to have been much improvement in the art of translating poetry till the age of Dryden: for though Sir John Denham has thought proper to pay a high compliment to Fanshaw on his translation of the Pastor Fido, terming him ​the inventor of "a new and nobler way" of translation, we find nothing in that performance which should intitle it to more praise than the Metamorphoses by Sandys and the Pharsalia by May.
​But it was to Dryden that poetical translation owed a complete emancipation from her fetters; and exulting in her new liberty, the danger now was, that she should run into the extreme of licentiousness. The followers of Dryden saw ​nothing so much to be emulated in his translations as the ease of his poetry: Fidelity was but a secondary object, and translation for a while was considered as synonymous with paraphrase. A judicious spirit of criticism was now wanting, to prescribe bounds to this increasing licence, and to determine to what precise degree a poetical translator might assume to himself the character of an original writer. In that design, Roscommon wrote his Essay on Translated Verse; in which, in general, he has shewn great critical judgement; but proceeding, as all reformers, with rigour, he has, amidst many excellent precepts on the subject, laid down one rule, which every true poet (and such only should attempt to, translate a poet) must consider as a very prejudicial restraint. After judiciously re​commending to the translator, first to possess himself of the sense and meaning of his author, and then to imitate his manner and style, he thus prescribes a general rule,
Far from adopting the former part of this maxim, I conceive it to be the duty of a poetical translator, never to suffer his original to fall. He must maintain with him a perpetual contest of genius; he must attend him in his highest flights, and soar, if he can, beyond him: and when he perceives, at any time, a diminution of his powers, when he sees a drooping wing, he must raise him on his own pinions. Homer has been judged by the best critics to ​fall at times beneath himself, and to offend, by introducing low images and puerile allusions. Yet how admirably is this defect veiled over, or altogether removed, by his translator Pope. In the beginning of the 8th book of the Iliad, Jupiter is introduced in great majesty, calling a council of the gods, and giving them a solemn charge to observe a strict neutrality between the Greeks and Trojans:
"Aurora with her saffron robe had spread returning light upon the world, when Jove delighting-in-thunder summoned a council of the gods ​upon the top of the aspiring Olympus; and while he thus harangued, all the immortals listened with deep attention." This is a very solemn opening; but the expectation of the reader is miserably disappointed by the harangue itself, of which I shall give a literal translation.
"Hear me, all ye gods and goddesses, whilst I declare to you the dictates of my inmost heart. Let neither male nor female of the gods attempt to controvert what I shall say; but let all submissively assent, that I may speedily accomplish my undertakings: for whoever of you shall be found descending to give aid either to the Trojans or ​Greeks, shall return to Olympus sorely maimed, and in a disgraceful plight: or else I will seize him, and hurl him down to gloomy Tartarus, where there is a deep dungeon under the earth, with gates of iron, and a pavement of brass, as far below hell, as the earth is below the heavens. Then he will know how much stronger I am than all the other gods. But come now, and make trial, that ye may all be convinced. Suspend a golden chain from heaven, and hang all by one end of it, with your whole weight, gods and goddesses together: you will never pull down from the heaven to the earth, Jupiter, the supreme counsellor, though you should strain with your utmost force. But when I chuse to pull, I will raise you all, with the earth ​"and sea together, and fastening the chain to the top of Olympus, will keep you all suspended at it. So much am I superior both to gods and men."
It must be owned, that this speech is far beneath the dignity of the thunderer; that the braggart vaunting in the beginning of it is nauseous; and that a mean and ludicrous picture is presented, by the whole groupe of gods and goddesses pulling at one end of a chain, and Jupiter at the other. To veil these defects in a translation was difficult; but to give any degree of dignity to this speech required certainly most uncommon powers. Yet I am much mistaken, if Mr Pope has not done so. I shall take the passage from the beginning:
It would be endless to point out all the instances in which Mr Pope has improved both upon the thought and expression of his original. We find frequently in Homer, amidst the most striking beauties, some circumstances introduced which diminish the merit of the thought or of the description. In such instances, the ​good taste of the translator invariably covers the defect of the original, and often converts it into an additional beauty. Thus, in the simile in the beginning of the 3d book, there is one circumstance which offends against good taste.
"As when the south wind pours a thick cloud upon the tops of the mountains, whose shade is unpleasant to the shepherds, but more commodious to the thief than the night itself, and when the gloom is so intense, that one cannot see farther than he can throw a stone: So rose the dust ​under the feet of the Greeks marching silently to battle."
With what superior taste has the translator heightened this simile, and exchanged the offending circumstance for a beauty. The fault is in the third line; τοσσον τις επιλευσσει, &c. which is a mean idea, compared with that which Mr Pope has substituted in its stead:
But even the highest beauties of the ​original receive additional lustre from this admirable translator.
​A striking example of this kind has been remarked by Mr Melmoth. It is the translation of that picture in the end of the 8th book of the Iliad, which Eustathius esteemed the finest night-piece that could be found in poetry:
"As when the moon appears in the serene canopy of the heavens, surrounded with stars, when every breath of air is hush'd, when every hill, every valley, and every forest, is distinctly seen; when the sky appears to open to the sight in all its boundless extent; ​and when the shepherd's heart is delighted within him." How nobly is this picture raised and improved by Mr Pope!
These passages from Pope's Homer afford examples of a translator's improvement of his original, by a happy amplification and embellishment of his image​ry, or by the judicious correction of defects; but to fix the precise degree to which this amplification, this embellishment, and this liberty of correction may extend, requires a great exertion of judgement. It may be useful to remark some instances of the want of this judgement.
It is always a fault when the translator adds to the sentiment of the original author, what does not strictly accord with his characteristic mode of thinking, or expressing himself.
​Thus translated by Roscommon:
The witty ideas in the two last lines are foreign to the original; and the addition of these is quite unjustifiable, as they belong to a quaint species of wit, of which the writings of Horace afford no example.
Thus translated by Dryden:
​Of these four lines, there are scarcely more than four words which are warranted by the original. "Some block the narrow streets." Even this is a faulty translation of obsidere alii telis angusta viarum; but it fails on the score of mutilation, not redundancy. The rest of the ideas which compose these four lines, are the original property of the translator; and the antithetical witticism in the concluding line, is far beneath the chaste simplicity of Virgil.
Mr Pope's translation of the following passage of the Iliad, is censurable on the same account:
​Of this conceit, of dead men defending the walls of Troy, Mr Pope has the sole merit. The original, with grave simplicity, declares, that the people fell, fighting before the town, and around the walls.
These last observations, though they principally regard the first general rule of translation, viz. that which enjoins a complete transfusion of the ideas and sentiments of the original work, have likewise a near connection with the second general rule, which I shall now proceed to consider.
* ↑ One of the best passages of Fanshaw's translation of the Pastor Fido, is the celebrated apostrophe to the spring. Spring, the year's youth, fair mother of new flowers, New leaves, new loves, drawn by the winged hours, Thou art return'd; but the felicity Thou brough'st me last is not return'd with thee. Thou art return'd; but nought returns with thee, Save my lost joy's regretful memory. Thou art the self-same thing thou wert before, As fair and jocund: but I am no more The thing I was, so gracious in her sight, Who is heaven's masterpiece and earth's delight. O bitter sweets of love! far worse it is To lose than never to have tasted bliss. O Primavera gioventu del anno, Bella madre di fiori, D'herbe novelle, e di novelli amori: Tu torni ben, ma teco, Non tornano i sereni E fortunati dì de le mie gioie! Tu torni ben, tu torni, Ma teco altro non torna Che del perduto mio caro tesoro La rimembranza misera e dolente. Tu quella se' tu quella, Ch'eri pur dianzi si vezzosa e bella. Ma non son io già quel ch'un tempo fui, Sì caro a gli occhi altrui. O dolcezze amarissime d'amore! Quanto è più duro perdervi, che mai Non v'haver ò provate, ò possedute! Pastor Fido, act 3. sc. I. In those parts of the English version which are marked in Italics, there is some attempt towards a freedom of translation; but it is a freedom of which Sandys had long before given many happier specimens.
* ↑ A similar instance of good taste occurs in the following translation of an epigram of Martial, where the indelicacy of the original is admirably corrected, and the sense at the same time is perfectly preserved: Vis fieri liber? mentiris, Maxime, non vis: Sed fieri si vis, hac ratione potes. Liber eris, cænare foris si, Maxime, nolis: Veientana tuam si domat uva sitim: Si ridere potes miseri Chrysondeta Cinnæ: Contentus nostrâ si potes esse togâ. Si plebeia Venus gemino tibi vincitur asse: Si tua non rectus tecta suhire potes: Hæc tibi si vis est, si mentis tanta potestas, Liberior Partho vivere rege potes.Mart. lib. 2. ep. 53.   Non, d'etre libre, cher Paulin, Vous n'avez jamais eu l'envie; Entre nous, votre train de vie N'en est point du tout le chemin. Il vous faut grand'chere, bon vin, Grand jeu, nombreuse compagnie, Maitresse fringante et jolie, Et robe du drap le plus sin. Il faudroit aimer, au contraire, Vin commun, petit ordinaire, Habit simple, un ou deux amis; Jamais de jeu, point d'Amarante: Voyez si le parti vous tente, La liberté n'est qu' à ce prix.
* ↑ Fitzosborne's Letters, l. 19.
* ↑ Fitzofborne's Letters, 43.