the unseen world and other essays-第53章

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Here　are　three　lines　which；　in　their　matchless　simplicity　and　grandeur；　might　well　excite　despair　in　the　breast　of　any　translator。　Let　us　contrast　Mr。　Longfellow's　version。

　　　　　〃Through　me　the　way　is　to　the　city　dolent；　　　　　　　Through　me　the　way　is　to　eternal　dole；　　　　　　　Through　me　the　way　among　the　people　lost；〃

with　that　of　Dr。　Parsons；；

　　　　　〃Through　me　you　reach　the　city　of　despair；　　　　　　　Through　me　eternal　wretchedness　ye　find；　　　　　　　Through　me　among　perdition's　race　ye　fare。〃

I　do　not　think　any　one　will　deny　that　Dr。　Parsons's　version；　while　far　more　remote　than　Mr。　Longfellow's　from　the　diction　of　the　original；　is　somewhat　nearer　its　spirit。　It　remains　to　seek　the　explanation　of　this　phenomenon。　It　remains　to　be　seen　why　words　the　exact　counterpart　of　Dante's　are　unfit　to　call　up　in　our　minds　the　feelings　which　Dante's　own　words　call　up　in　the　mind　of　an　Italian。　And　this　inquiry　leads　to　some　general　considerations　respecting　the　relation　of　English　to　other　European　languages。

Every　one　is　aware　that　French　poetry；　as　compared　with　German　poetry；　seems　to　the　English　reader　very　tame　and　insipid；　but　the　cause　of　this　fact　is　by　no　means　so　apparent　as　the　fact　itself。　That　the　poetry　of　Germany　is　actually　and　intrinsically　superior　to　that　of　France；　may　readily　be　admitted；　but　this　is　not　enough　to　account　for　all　the　circumstances　of　the　case。　It　does　not　explain　why　some　of　the　very　passages　in　Corneille　and　Racine；　which　to　us　appear　dull　and　prosaic；　are　to　the　Frenchman's　apprehension　instinct　with　poetic　fervour。　It　does　not　explain　the　undoubted　fact　that　we；　who　speak　English；　are　prone　to　underrate　French　poetry；　while　we　are　equally　disposed　to　render　to　German　poetry　even　more　than　its　due　share　of　merit。　The　reason　is　to　be　sought　in　the　verbal　associations　established　in　our　minds　by　the　peculiar　composition　of　the　English　language。　Our　vocabulary　is　chiefly　made　up　on　the　one　hand　of　indigenous　Saxon　words；　and　on　the　other　hand　of　words　derived　from　Latin　or　French。　It　is　mostly　words　of　the　first　class　that　we　learn　in　childhood；　and　that　are　associated　with　our　homeliest　and　deepest　emotions；　while　words　of　the　second　classusually　acquired　somewhat　later　in　life　and　employed　in　sedate　abstract　discoursehave　an　intellectual　rather　than　an　emotional　function　to　fulfil。　Their　original　significations；　the　physical　metaphors　involved　in　them；　which　are　perhaps　still　somewhat　apparent　to　the　Frenchman；　are　to　us　wholly　non…existent。　Nothing　but　the　derivative　or　metaphysical　signification　remains。　No　physical　image　of　a　man　stepping　over　a　boundary　is　presented　to　our　minds　by　the　word　transgress；　nor　in　using　the　word　comprehension　do　we　picture　to　ourselves　any　manual　act　of　grasping。　It　is　to　this　double　structure　of　the　English　language　that　it　owes　its　superiority　over　every　other　tongue；　ancient　or　modern；　for　philosophical　and　scientific　purposes。　Albeit　there　are　numerous　exceptions；　it　may　still　be　safely　said；　in　a　general　way；　that　we　possess　and　habitually　use　two　kinds　of　language；one　that　is　physical；　for　our　ordinary　purposes；　and　one　that　is　metaphysical；　for　purposes　of　abstract　reasoning　and　discussion。　We　do　not　say　like　the　Germans；　that　we　〃begripe〃　（begreifen）　an　idea；　but　we　say　that　we　〃conceive〃　it。　We　use　a　word　which　once　had　the　very　same　material　meaning　as　begreifen；　but　which　has　in　our　language　utterly　lost　it。　We　are　accordingly　able　to　carry　on　philosophical　inquiries　by　means　of　words　which　are　nearly　or　quite　free　from　those　shadows　of　original　concrete　meaning　which；　in　German；　too　often　obscure　the　acquired　abstract　signification。　Whoever　has　dealt　in　English　and　German　metaphysics　will　not　fail　to　recognize　the　prodigious　superiority　of　English　in　force　and　perspicuity；　arising　mainly　from　the　causes　here　stated。　But　while　this　homogeneity　of　structure　in　German　injures　it　for　philosophical　purposes；　it　is　the　very　thing　which　makes　it　so　excellent　as　an　organ　for　poetical　expression；　in　the　opinion　of　those　who　speak　English。　German　being　nearly　allied　to　Anglo…Saxon；　not　only　do　its　simple　words　strike　us　with　all　the　force　of　our　own　homely　Saxon　terms；　but　its　compounds　also；　preserving　their　physical　significations　almost　unimpaired；　call　up　in　our　minds　concrete　images　of　the　greatest　definiteness　and　liveliness。　It　is　thus　that　German　seems　to　us　pre…eminently　a　poetical　language；　and　it　is　thus　that　we　are　naturally　inclined　to　overrate　rather　than　to　depreciate　the　poetry　that　is　written　in　it。

With　regard　to　French；　the　case　is　just　the　reverse。　The　Frenchman　has　no　Saxon　words；　but　he　has；　on　the　other　hand；　an　indigenous　stock　of　Latin　words；　which　he　learns　in　early　childhood；　which　give　outlet　to　his　most　intimate　feelings；　and　which　retain　to　some　extent　their　primitive　concrete　picturesqueness。　They　are　to　him　just　as　good　as　our　Saxon　words　are　to　us。　Though　cold　and　merely　intellectual　to　us；　they　are　to　him　warm　with　emotion；　and　this　is　one　reason　why　we　cannot　do　justice　to　his　poetry；　or　appreciate　it　as　he　appreciates　it。　To　make　this　perfectly　clear；　let　us　take　two　or　three　lines　from　Shakespeare：

　　　　　〃Blow；　blow；　thou　winter　wind！　　　　　　　Thou　art　not　so　unkind　　　　　　　As　man's　ingratitude；　　　　　　　Thy　tooth　is　not　so　keen；〃　etc。；　etc。；

which　I　have　somewhere　seen　thus　rendered　into　French：

　　　　　〃Souffle；　souffle；　vent　d'hiver！　　　　　　　Tu　n'es　pas　si　cruel　　　　　　　Que　l'ingratitude　de　l'homme。　　　　　　　Ta　dent　n'est　pas　si　penetrante；〃　etc。；　etc。

Why　are　we　inclined　to　laugh　as　we　read　this？　Because　it　excites　in　us　an　undercurrent　of　consciousness　which；　if　put　into　words；　might　run　something　like　this：

　　　　　〃Insufflate；　insufflate；　wind　hibernal！　　　　　　　Thou　art　not　so　cruel　　　　　　　As　human　ingratitude。　　　　　　　Thy　dentition　is　not　so　penetrating；〃　etc。；　etc。

No　such　effect　would　be　produced　upon　a　Frenchman。　The　translation　would　strike　him　as　excellent；　which　it　really　is。　The　last　line　in　particular　would　seem　poetical　to　us；　did　we　not　happen　to　have　in　our　language　words　closely　akin　to　dent　and　penetrante；　and　familiarly　employed　in　senses　that　are　not　poetical。

Applying　these　considerations　to　Mr。　Longfellow's　choice　of　words　in　his　translation　of　Dante；　we　see　at　once　the　unsoundness　of　the　principle　that　Italian　words　should　be　rendered　by　their　Romanic　equivalents　in　English。　Words　that　are　etymologically　identical　with　those　in　the　original　are　often；　for　that　very　reason；　the　worst　words　that　could　be　used。　They　are　harsh　and　foreign　to　the　English　ear；　however　homelike　and　musical　they　may　be　to　the　ear　of　an　Italian。　Their　connotations　are　unlike　in　the　two　languages；　and　the　translation　which　is　made　literally　exact　by　using　them　is　at　the　same　time　made　actually　inaccurate；　or　at　least　inadequate。　Dole　and　dolent　are　doubtless　the　exact　counterparts　of　dolore　and　dolente；　so　far　as　mere　etymology　can　go。　But　when　we　consider　the　effect　that　is　to　be　produced　upon　the　mind　of　the　reader；　wretchedness　and　despairing　are　fat　better　equivalents。　The　former　may　compel　our　intellectual　assent；　but　the　latter　awaken　our　emotional　sympathy。

Doubtless　by　long　familiarity　with　the　Romanic　languages；　the　scholar　becomes　to　a　great　degree　emancipated　from　the　conditions　imposed　upon　him　by　the　peculiar　composition　of　his　native　English。　The　concrete　significance　of　the　Romanic　words　becomes　apparent　to　him；　and　they　acquire　energy　and　vitality。　The　expression　dolent　may　thus　satisfy　the　student　familiar　with　Italian；　because　it　calls　up　in　his　mind；　through　the　medium　of　its　equivalent　dolente；　the　same　associations　which　the　latter　calls　up　in　the　mind　of　the　Italian　himself。＇41＇　But　this　power　of　appreciating　thoroughly　the　beauties　of　a　foreign　tongue　is　in　the　last　degree　an　acquired　taste；as　much　so　as　the　taste　for　olives　and　kirschenwasser　to　the　carnal　palate。　It　is　only　by　long　and　profound　study　that　we　can　thus　temporarily　vest　ourselves；　so　to　speak；　with　a　French　or　Italian　consciousness　in　exchange　for　our　English　one。　The　literary　epicure　may　keenly　relish　such　epithets　as　dolent；　but　the　common　English　reader；　who　loves　plain　fare；　can　hardly　fail　to　be　startled　by　it。　To　him　it　savours　of　the　grot