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PREFACE.
In laying before the British public an English reproduction of such a poem as Faust, the author of this translation is quite aware, that he is venturing upon a very hazardous undertaking. In a work of such depth of feeling, and variety of delineation, the vehement overboiling of youthful enthusiasm, is in as great danger of going beyond the mark, as the correct chasteness of a taste, formed on mere French and Italian models, is of falling within it. A man may be sweet with Petrarch, and brilliant with Voltaire, and yet be very unfit to sympathize with the many-sided nature of Goethe. The consciousness of the difficulty of the task would, long since, have deterred me from attempting it, had not a secret and deep-felt sympathy unconsciously drawn me on, and had I not been encouraged in my first attempts by the favourable opinion of a friend, of whose sincerity I could
I am prefectly aware how very far any thing, that I can produce, must always fall beneath what a translation of Faust ought, according to my ideas, to be. But we might wait long enough before an English Goethe should arise, who would be fitted to do perfect justice to such a work; and, in the mean time, if the present attempt shall but serve to draw public attention, in some degree, to what still remains to be done in the wide domain of German literature, I shall have had my reward. The honesty of my intentions will be a sufficient excuse for their apparent presumption; and whatever the judgment of severe critics may be, I shall still be able to plead, in the language of my poetical master—
“So treib's ein jeder wie er kann,Ein kleiner Mann ist auch Ein Mann.”
With those who have preceded me in this career, I enter into a friendly rivalry, not an envious competition. That man has very little ground to stand upon, who must first trip up the heels of his neighbour, in order to get a footing; and it sounds more like quackery than true science to trumpet forth the
It is for these reasons that I have purposely abstained from all mention of former translations, either in the notes, or in the introductory remarks. My own translation was made altogether independently of any of them;—it was to me a re-echoing of a solemn sound, that had long been vibrating in my inmost soul, and become very part and parcel of my intellectual existence. I might, therefore, in all honesty, have subjected my predecessors to a rigid criticism, and exposed what I conceived to be their errors; but would it have been just, would it have been honourable, to do so, while I refrained from all mention of their excellencies, and those useful hints, which he who follows can never fail to receive, either directly or indirectly, from the labours of those who have preceded him?
To the public at large, it is my duty to state the principle on which this Translation is formed, and the manner in which it has been executed.
The great principle on which the excellence of a poetical translation depends, seems to be, that it should not be a mere transposing, but a recasting, of the original. On this principle, it has been my first
I make these remarks by the way of protest against those petty verbal criticasters, who seem to think that a translation is made for no other purpose than to enable them to bring to light their linguistical lore, in pointing out how each individual word of the original differs from each individual word of the translation. I hope, however, that the critics of philosophy and of feeling will not find my Translation wanting
With regard to the versification, I am afraid many of my readers may be inclined to say of it, as the Edinburgh Reviewer said of Sir Walter Scott's Lay, that it is “in the highest degree irregular and capricious.” So far as concerns the measure of the original, I can say, with the whole of Germany, that it is in the highest degree beautiful and harmonious, and must appear so to every one, whose musical perception has not been lulled asleep by the sing-song of the Popian couplet. Measure is the flexible clothing, not the clogging fetter, of the poet's song,—it waves and folds itself in sympathetic obedience to every motion of his inward man; and, as he is no orator
I need only state, that I have, except in a very few cases, faithfully followed the measure of the original; and, in so far as it is possible in a Translation, endeavoured to echo back the tones of the Goethian harp. This, however, is the most trying point of all; and I beg of the English reader, if he finds the Poem unharmonious, to lay all the blame on him, to whom alone it belongs, and who is, at the same time, most willing to bear it.
One thing I must mention to avoid misconception. I have frequently, in imitation of the original, introduced Alexandrines in situations, where, to the English ear, they appear altogether uncalled for. I am
With regard to the mere mechanics of this Translation, I have rhymed, because the original rhymes; and because I cannot see how rhyme can be separated from the aesthetical form of the poem. The difficulties, which this peculiar mode of translation is supposed to present, exist more in the indolence of the Translator, than in the nature of the thing; and a man who is in love with his work, will not be deterred by a mere mechanical impediment, which a little perseverance, and a little dexterity, will, in a short time, altogether remove. Some rhymeless lines the reader will find, here and there; for this procedure I had peculiar reasons, known only to him who has experienced the difficulty of producing a translation, at once accurate, easy, and spirited.
A strong desire to give as close a transcript as possible of the original, has also induced me, on one or two occasions, to admit rhymes, which would have been altogether inexcusable in the freedom of original composition; but these impure rhymes will, I hope, be found to be comparatively few, in proportion to the length of the poem; and the reader may be assured that they never occur, except from perhaps an over-anxious striving to keep as nearly as possible to the German text.
To attempt to imitate the double endings, whereever they occur in the original, would shew a great misconception of the capabilities of the two languages. Lord Leveson Gower, whose powers of English versification are, on many occasions, so favourably exhibited in his translation of Faust, would, in my opinion, have given a much better version, both of the prologue-hymn, and of the dedication, had he not imposed upon himself the necessity of repeating the alternate trochaic rhymes of the original. Even Shelley's exquisite translation of the above hymn, has, I think, suffered somewhat from the same cause; and, warned by these two examples, and in order to give as literal a transcript as possible of this beautiful piece of composition, I have retained the trochaic ending of the first and third lines in these stanzas, but only rhymed the second and fourth.
Having thus rendered an account of my stewardship, I leave Goethe and myself, with all good cheer, in the hands of a discriminating public. Let me not, however, close these remarks, without returning publicly my thanks to those learned and talented gentlemen, who have assisted me with their advice and encouragement in the prosecution of this work. I am under especial obligations to Sir William Hamilton,
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