Part 11 (2/2)
_”The Spectator,” May 10, 1913_
Sh.e.l.ley, himself a translator of one of the best known of the epigrams of the Anthology, has borne emphatic testimony to the difficulties of translation. ”It were as wise,” he said, ”to cast a violet into a crucible that you might discover the formal principle of its colour and odour, as seek to transfuse from one language into another the creations of a poet.”
The task of rendering Greek into English verse is in some respects specially difficult. In the first place, the translator has to deal with a language remarkable for its unity and fluency, qualities which, according to Curtius (_History of Greece_, i. 18), are the result of the ”delicately conceived law, according to which all Greek words must end in vowels, or such consonants as give rise to no harshness when followed by others, viz. _n_, _r_, and _s_.” Then, again, the translator must struggle with the difficulties arising from the fact that the Greeks regarded condensation in speech as a fine art. Demetrius, or whoever was the author of _De Elocutione_, said: ”The first grace of style is that which results from compression.” The use of an inflected language of course enabled the Greeks to carry this art to a far higher degree of perfection than can be attained by any modern Europeans. Jebb, for instance, takes twelve words--”Well hath he spoken for one who giveth heed not to fall”--to express a sentiment which Sophocles (_d.
Tyr._ 616) is able to compress into four--?a??? ??e?e? e??a?????
pese??. Moreover, albeit under the stress of metrical and linguistic necessity the translator must generally indulge in paraphrase, let him beware lest in doing so he sacrifices that quality in which the Greeks excelled, to wit, simplicity. Nietzsche said, with great truth, ”Die Griechen sind, wie das Genie, einfach; deshalb sind sie die unsterblichen Lehrer.” Further, the translator has at times so to manipulate his material as to incorporate into his verse epithets and figures of speech of surpa.s.sing grace and expressiveness, which do not readily admit of transfiguration into any modern language; such, for instance, as the ”much-wooed white-armed Maiden Muse” (p?????st?
?e????e?e pa????e ???sa) of Empedocles; the ”long countless Time”
(a???? ???a????t?? ??????), or ”babbling Echo” (?????st??? ???) of Sophocles; the ”son, the subject of many prayers” (p???e??et?? ????) and countless other expressions of the Homeric Hymns; the ”blooming Love with his pinions of gold” (? d' ?f??a??? ???? ???s?pte??? ???a?) of Aristophanes; ”the eagle, messenger of wide-ruling Zeus, the lord of Thunder” (a?et??, e?????a?t?? ???e??? ????? ???sfa?????) of Bacchylides; or mighty Pindar's ”snowy Etna nursing the whole year's length her frozen snow” (??f?es?' ??t?a pa?ete? ?????? ??e?a? t????a).
In no branch of Greek literature are these difficulties more conspicuous than in the Anthology, yet it is the Anthology that has from time immemorial notably attracted the attention of translators. It is indeed true that the compositions of Agathias, Palladas, Paulus Silentiarius, and the rest of the poetic tribe who ”like the dun nightingale” were ”insatiate of song” (??? t?? ????? ????est?? ??? ... ??d??), must, comparatively speaking, rank low amongst the priceless legacies which Greece bequeathed to a grateful posterity. A considerable number of the writers whose works are comprised in the Anthology lived during the Alexandrian age. The artificiality of French society before the French Revolution developed a taste for shallow versifying. Somewhat similar symptoms characterised the decadent society of Alexandria, albeit there were occasions when a n.o.bler note was struck, as in the splendid hymn of Cleanthes, written in the early part of the second century B.C.
Generally speaking, however, Professor Mahaffy's criticism of the literature of this period (_Greek Life and Thought_, p. 264) holds good.
”We feel in most of these poems that it is no real lover languis.h.i.+ng for his mistress, but a pedant posing before a critical public. If ever poet was consoled by his muse, it was he; he was far prouder if Alexandria applauded the grace of his epigram than if it whispered the success of his suit.” How have these manifest defects been condoned? Why is it that, in spite of much that is artificial and commonplace, the poetry of the Anthology still exercises, and will continue to exercise, an undying charm alike over the student, the moralist, and the man of the world?
The reasons are not far to seek. In the first place, no productions of the Greek genius conform more wholly to the Aristotelian canon that poetry should be an imitation of the universal. Few of the poems in the Anthology depict any ephemeral phase or fas.h.i.+on of opinion, like the Euphuism of the sixteenth century. All appeal to emotions which endure for all time, and which, it has been aptly said, are the true raw material of poetry. The patriot can still feel his blood stirred by the ringing verse of Simonides. The moralist can ponder over the vanity of human wishes, which is portrayed in endless varieties of form, and which, even when the writer most exults in the wors.h.i.+p of youth (p?????at?? ??) or extols the philosophy of Epicurus, is always tinged with a shade of profound melancholy, inasmuch as every poet bids us bear in mind, to use the beautiful metaphor of Keats, that the hand of Joy is ”ever on his lips bidding adieu,” and that the ”wave of death”--the ?????? ??' ??da of Pindar--persistently dogs the steps of all mankind.
The curious in literature will find in the Anthology much apparent confirmation of the saying of Terence that nothing is ever said that has not been said before. He will note that not only did the gloomy Palladas say that he came naked into the world, and that naked he will depart, but that he forestalled Shakespeare in describing the world as a stage (s???? p?? ? ??? ?a? pa??????), whilst Philostratus, Meleager, and Agathias implored their respective mistresses to drink to them only with their eyes and to leave a kiss within the cup. The man of the world will give Agathias credit for keen powers of observation when he notes that the Greek poet said that gambling was a test of character (????
??????e? ????? ??ef??s???[78]), whilst if for a moment he would step outside the immediate choir of the recognised Anthologists, he may smile when he reads that Menander thought it all very well to ”know oneself,”
but that it was in practice far more useful to know other people (???s??te??? ??? ?? t? ????? t??? ?????s).
Then, again, the pungent brevity of such of the poetry of the Anthology as is epigrammatic is highly attractive. Much has at times been said as to what const.i.tutes an epigram, but the case for brevity has probably never been better stated than by a witty Frenchwoman of the eighteenth century. Madame de Boufflers wrote:
Il faut dire en deux mots Ce qu'on veut dire; Les longs propos Sont sots.
In this respect, indeed, French can probably compete more successfully than any other modern language with Greek. Democritus (410 B.C.) wrote, ? ??s?? s????, ? ??? p??ad??? ???e?, e?de?, ?p???e?. The French version of the same idea is in no way inferior to the Greek:
On entre, on crie, Et c'est la vie!
On crie, on sort, Et c'est la mort!
Lastly, although much of the sentiment expressed in the Anthology is artificial, and although the language is at times offensive to modern ears, the writers almost invariably exhibit that leading quality of the Greek genius on which the late Professor Butcher was wont to insist so strongly--its virile sanity.
For these reasons the literary world may cordially welcome a further addition to the abundant literature which already exists on the subject of the Anthology. The principle adopted by Dr. Grundy is unquestionably sound. He recognises that great Homer sometimes nods, that even men of real poetic genius are not always at their best, and that mere versifiers can at times, by a happy inspiration, embody an idea in language superior to the general level of their poetic compositions.
English literature of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries abounds in cases in point. Lovelace, Montrose, and even, it may almost be said, Wither and Herrick, live mainly in public estimation owing to the composition of a small number of exquisitely felicitous verses which have raised them for ever to thrones amongst the immortals. Dr. Grundy, therefore, has very wisely ranged over the whole wide field of Anthology translators, and has culled a flower here and a flower there. His method in making his selections is as unimpeachable as his principle. He has discarded all predilections based on the authority of names or on other considerations, and has simply chosen those translations which he himself likes best.
Dr. Grundy, in his preface, expresses a hope that he will be pardoned for ”the human weakness” of having in many cases preferred his own translations to those of others. That pardon will be readily extended to him, for although in a brief review of this nature it is impossible to quote his compositions at any length, it is certainly true that some at least of his translations are probably better than any that have yet been attempted. Dr. Grundy says in his preface that he ”has abided in most instances as closely as possible to the literal translations of the originals.” That is the principle on which all, or nearly all, translators have proceeded, but the qualifying phrase--”as closely as possible”--has admitted of wide divergence in their practice. In some cases, indeed, it is possible to combine strict adherence to the original text with graceful language and harmonious metre in the translation, but in a large number of instances the translator has to sacrifice one language or the other. He has to choose between being blamed by the purist who will not admit of any expansion in the ideas of the original writer, or being accused of turning the King's English to base uses by the employment of doubtful rhythm or cacophonous expressions. Is it necessary to decide between these two rival schools and to condemn one of them? a.s.suredly not. Both have their merits. An instance in point is the exquisite ”Rosa Rosarum” of Dionysius, which runs thus:
? t? ??da, ??d?essa? ??e?? ?????? ???? t? p??e??, sa?t??, ? t? ??da, ?? s??af??e?a;
Mr. Pott, in his _Greek Love Songs and Epigrams_, adopted the triolet metre, which is singularly suitable to the subject, in dealing with this epigram, and gracefully translated thus:
Which roses do you offer me, Those on your cheeks, or those beside you?
Since both are pa.s.sing fair to see, Which roses do you offer me?
To give me both would you agree, Or must I choose, and so divide you?
Which roses do you offer me, Those on your cheeks or those beside you?
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