sition, which is the result only of assiduous reading and reiterated imitation of good authors. They are, at the outset, even prejudicial, because the errors, which their untimely use renders unavoidable, are often confirmed rather than counteracted by ulterior practice. In writing an exercise as the illustration of a rule, the student may perhaps, so far as the rule directs him, do it correctly; but how is he, in a complicated sentence, to write that part of it for which no direction has been given? There are in such sentences subordinate parts for which no rule is given, and which are often more numerous than those to which the rule itself applies; the consequence is that such parts will often be translated incorrectly, and more time will be employed upon this incorrect portion of the exercise than upon that which exemplifies the rule.

Many persons, unwilling to reject the method of grammatical exercises, although aware of its defects, have endeavored to improve it by removing the difficulties attendant on writing in a language before it is known. Some grammars, which have of late been written, contain under the rules, exercises, in which their authors contrive every means in their power to facilitate the observance of those rules, and spare young people the trouble of reflecting; they give not cnly the foreign words, but their order; they indicate the gender and number, mood and tense, and point out when words are to be omitted or supplied. Learners mechanically avail themselves of this assistance, without inquiring into the difference of idiom between the two languages, often even without reading the rule, before they write the exercise; not unfrequently remaining ignorant of the rule which it was the purport of the exercise to teach, and acquiring habits of mental indolence.

Young people, also, for the sake of expedition, commonly translate the native words one after another into the foreign language, without troubling themselves about the sense conveyed by the combination of those words; so that if, afterwards, they have similar ideas to express in that language, they receive no aid whatever from the exercises which they have written. But, were they even to attend to the sense, while they thus translate the heterogeneous miscellany of their exercise-book, still they would lose sight of what should be their chief aim, namely, expression of their own thoughts and acquisition of style; for the exclusive practice of translating the words of others is not conducive to originality, nor are unconnected phrases, however grammatically correct, conducive to the formation of style.

But, inappropriate and inefficient as are grammatical exercises for acquiring the art of composition in a foreign language, they are, in evil consequences, far surpassed by tho practice of translating, in the first stages of the study, from a national author into a foreign language. To enter upon the study of it by writing in it, is to begin at the wrong end, at what is most difficult; it is, in fact, to attempt what is impossible. The defects of such a course are so palpable that it is surprising how it could ever have been recommended.

To employ in translating the most appropriate expressions, those which most exactly convey the ideas of the original text, requires great command of the language into which one translates, that is, a large stock of words and perfect acquaintance with their various acceptations, as also practical knowledge of its idiomatical structure and figurative forms: it presents, as will presently be seen, great obstacles even to those most conversant with the language. How infinitely greater must the obstacles be to him who wishes to translate from the native into a foreign tongue which he is learning! It is an absurdity of the same kind as that of reading aloud before having sufficiently heard the sounds. Neither the pronunciation nor the construction can be discovered by the greatest efforts of genius: the ear and the eye must communicate them to the mind before imitation can reproduce them.

Dictionaries will give but little assistance in this respect: all the objections which were brought against them, as a means of learning to translate into the native tongue, have double force against their use in translating into a foreign language. Great, indeed, must be the perplexity of a learner in choosing, from many unknown words, that which expresses the idea of his author, when we reflect that, even in writing our own language, the national lexicons themselves are sufficiently embarrassing. "When," says Dugald Stewart, "I consult Johnson's Dictionary, I find many words of which he has enumerated forty, fifty, or sixty different significations, and, after all the pains he has taken to distinguish these from each other, I am frequently at a loss to avail myself of his definitions." *

But, if we could suppose that, by some lucky chance, a beginner has hit on the right foreign words, in what order shall he place them?-are any to be left out, and which ?-what new ones shall he introduce? for the corresponding expressions of two languages are rarely composed of the same number of words. Here he meets new perplexities, nay, impossibilities. No one who is not already practically conversant with the genius and phraseology of a language, can know when it admits, or does not admit, of rendering literally the forms of another; when it has, or has not, equivalent idiomatic and figurative expressions; much less can he know what are these expressions, and what degree of elegance or vulgarity attaches to them. No knowledge of grammar can supply this information, nor is it by the routine of grammatical exercise that it can ever be acquired. Years are thus wasted in only showing learners how difficult it is to write,-disheartening them by constantly finding fault with and erasing what has cost them much time and labor; whereas, by judicious delay, and a proper course of instruction, innumerable blunders might be avoided, which necessarily must result from thus groping in the dark. In writing, as well as in speaking, imitation is the basis of improvement.

Merely copying, however, is not what is meant by imitation; the former is a servile mechanical operation, which, at best, teaches only orthography. To learn to compose, we must bring imagination and judgment in aid of imitation. Attempting to write in imitation of a model-composition, and after simple perusal of it, would be the other extreme, and impracticable at an early period of learning: it can be had recourse to only by a person already advanced in the foreign language, with a view to perfect his style, as is often practised in the native tongue. In the study of the fine arts it would be equally injudicious to begin by copying the outlines of a model through transparent paper, or by drawing at once from the human figure.

There is no exercise better calculated for avoiding the two extremes in the process of imitation than the writing of double translation, as recommended by Cicero, Pliny the younger, Quintilian, and nearly all those who, to the present day, have suggested means for acquiring the art of composition.

Double translation consists in translating from a foreign idiom into the national tongue, and from this version back into the original language. By this means the just medium alluded to may easily be attained, as will shortly be seen: and other advantages will result, which we will point out in explaining more particularly the nature of this exercise.

In the first operation,-that of translating into the vernacular, the student must keep in mind the two great principles of translation: 1, fidelity in transfusing the original ideas; 2, conformity to the genius and idiom of the language into which the translation is made.

Strict adherence to the first point ensures perfect comprehension of the foreign author, and thus promotes improvement in the foreign language. It supplies the

*Philosophical Essays, Ess. v.

deficiencies necessarily resulting from the cursory and careless manner in which a reader usually passes over words when the attention is exclusively engaged in apprehending the general sense. A translator weighs the original expressions with more exactness, and analyzes the ideas more minutely. So, at an early period, this first translation helps learners to understand thoroughly the foreign idiom.

In attending to the second point, the translator acquires and practises the art of composition in the national language. The mental exercise of selecting the words which will convey the thoughts of the foreign author most accurately is perhaps the fittest that could be devised for acquiring precision in the native tongue. The essays which young people are usually required to write in their own language, not unfrequently on very abstract subjects, are to them, from the inadequacy of their information, a very difficult and painful task. Translating from a foreign language, on the contrary, offers an inexhaustible source of progressive and interesting composition: a learner, thereby, not only has a subject before him, but he practises writing under favorable circumstances; for his attention can be entirely directed to the choice of words and to their arrangement.

When original writing is attempted before the mind has reached maturity, the learner is encouraged in habits of diffuse declamation: he is led to introduce in composition none but common-place ideas, and to conceal poverty of thought under pomp of phraseology; whereas, in translating from a standard work, the subject to be treated is always valuable, and the learner habituates himself to express only what is just and sound. In writing original essays his mind is engaged on things which he already knows; in translating from a good work he is led to reflect on subjects which probably he had not previously considered, and thus his sphere of thought is enlarged. Even his intellectual character will be improved, if he aim at a faithful and elaborate translation; for ideas cannot be completely and adequately transferred from one language to another, unless the translator call forth all his reflective powers, enter into the spirit of his author, rise, as it were, to a level with him, and follow the same train of thought. The exercise of translation is also well calculated to extend the power of expression in the native tongue, because it is more difficult to render well the ideas of others than one's own. In original composition, people employ only such words and phrases as they already know, and sometimes even modify the ideas that originally started in the mind, to suit them to their scanty stock of language; but translation not only exercises the writer as well as original composition in applying the words he already knows, it also compels him to search for others with which he is unacquainted; it binds him to the expressing of particular ideas, and thus stimulates him to grapple with the difficulties of his own idiom. Original composition teaches to avoid difficulties; translation to overcome them.

By directing his attention to the details attendant upon the formation of a good style, the translator investigates the genius of both languages, he perceives that the words and their order do not always correspond in the foreign and the native idiom; he minutely analyzes the foreign expressions, seeks words equivalent to those of his author, tries in various ways to render his identical thoughts; he considers the synonymous words, the proper and figurative terms, the grammatical and idiomatical forms which may best render in his own language the ideas and sentiments of the foreign writer. His discriminative powers are exercised in ascertaining when to follow or to abandon the literal translation, and when to modify or to supply an image unsuitable to his native tongue. The more the two idioms differ in construction, the nearer the translation resembles original composition; and the increased effort required for accomplishing it augments the merit of the triumph. In short, by this exercise, the student distinguishes the most delicate shades of ideas, acquires perspicuity of language,

extends his power of speech, and forms those mental habits of clearness, order, and precision, which are the fruit of good classical education.

It is not then merely as a means of acquiring a foreign language that translation from it should be practised; its most important office consists in exercising the intellectual faculties, and extending indefinitely the power of expression in the native idiom: it should, therefore, be frequently performed either orally or written, but especially the latter, as more conducive to the above results. The rapidity with which oral translation is usually performed does not permit the learner to polish his style: the improvement in the native tongue which he may expect from it chiefly consists in extending his vocabulary and gaining readiness of expression; but written translation, allowing more time for reflection, affords every possible means of attending to correctness, perspicuity, and harmony of style. His mode of expression can always be minutely compared with that of the original; and on this comparison depends his improvement in native composition. The better the translator conceives the thought of his author, and perceives the perspicuity, force, and grace of his style, the more conscious is he of his own deficiencies, and, consequently, the greater his chance of becoming a good writer himself. "If it were possible," says Dr. Tytler, "accurately to define what is meant by a good translation, it is evident that a considerable progress would be made towards establishing the rules of the art. But there is no subject of criticism on which there has been so much difference of opinion. On the one hand, it has been affirmed that it is the duty of a translator to attend only to the sense and spirit of his original, to make himself perfectly master of his author's ideas, and to communicate them in those expressions which he judges to be best suited to convey them. It has, on the other hand, been maintained, that, in order to constitute a perfect translation, it is not only requisite that the ideas and sentiments of the original author should be conveyed, but likewise his style and manner of writing, which, it is supposed, cannot be done without a strict attention to the arrangement of his sentences, and even to their order and construction. According to the former idea of translation, it is allowable to improve and to embellish; according to the latter, it is necessary to preserve even blemishes and defects; and to these must likewise be superadded the harshness that must attend every copy in which the artist scrupulously studies to imitate the minutest lines or traces of his original. As these two opinions form opposite extremes, it is not impossible that the point of perfection should be found between the two. I would therefore describe a good translation to be that in which the merit of the original work is so completely transfused into another language as to be as distinctly apprehended, and as strongly felt by a native of the country to which that language belongs, as it is by those who speak the language of the original work."* Adopting this description as our basis, we build on it the following precepts:

A learner should, in translating be faithful to the original text, and yet conform to the genius of his own idiom; he should be careful neither to add to nor take from the ideas of the original; for his business is rather to copy than to compose. Nothing but the incapacity of the language to furnish a perfect equivalent can justify the use of an expression more or less forcible or comprehensive, more or less dignified or familiar, than the original. More liberty, however, may be taken with imaginative than with didactic works. Figures of thoughts, which are independent of language, and mark the character of the foreign writer, must be preserved; but figures, of words, which often cannot be transferred into another language, may be represented by other figures equiv. alent to them, or even by their proper terms. Proverbs and aphorisms must be rendered by corresponding ones: the moral truths which they convey have their familiar expression among all nations, and are, in different languages, presented under different

* Essay on the principles of Translation.

mages, borrowed mostly from physical facts. But, in thus availing himself of corresponding forms of expression, he must beware of attributing to one place or time the peculiarities of another, as did Echard, in his translation of Terence, who, among many other incongruities, makes a character in one of the plays of this writer say, "He looks as grave as an alderman," a comparison, be it said, without disrespect to aldermanic gravity, rather ludicrous in the mouth of a Roman.*

The errors most frequent among translators, and against which learners should guard very carefully, as being the most easily fallen into, are those which result from diver sities of meaning attached to words in all languages. The blunder committed by De Laplace, who translated "Love's last Shift," the title of one of Cibber's plays, by "La dernière chemise de l'amour," is a sample of the absurdities to which imperfect knowledge of a foreign language may lead. D'Israeli mentions, among other blunders of this kind, that a French translator, priding himself on giving a verbal translation of Shakspeare's Henry IV., rendered the last words of the line, "So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone," by "Ainsi, douleur, va-t'en." Another Frenchman inserted Miss Edgeworth's " Essay on Irish Bulls" in a catalogue of works on "Natural History," mistaking it for a treatise on horned cattle. A French military work, "par un officier du génie" was translated, in this country we believo, "by an officer of genius."

Conciseness being one of the first requisites of style, the learner must avoid translating single words by periphrases: these are excusable only when the poverty of the language which he uses renders them necessary. Before he resorts to them, he should be certain that the difficulty does not arise from his own deficiency. Although he might be justified in availing himself of the foreign terms in the absence of corresponding native words, or when the phrases by which they may be interpreted are rather complicated, nevertheless an attempt at translating them, however circuitously, is always preferable, as being to him a trial of skill in translation. The license of adopting foreign words is particularly the privilege of eminent writers, who are thus afforded a means of enriching their national language.

Literal or verbatim translation renders the words of a foreign author, and free or idiomatic translation, his ideas: the former suits a beginner; the latter, a proficient. Free translation presents great scope for reflection and invention; it permits a learner to render an idiom or a figure by its corresponding one; and to substitute new graces of style for those which are untranslatable; whereas verbatim translation, which confines him to the consideration of words, often presents but confused ideas and a mass of barbarisms. Idiomatic translation, whether oral or written, is, more than a literal one, an evidence that the translator feels the force of the original. It should be remembered that the very object of so translating is to preserve the spirit of an author, where it would be lost or weakened by a literal version; but, where such a version would be faithful to the spirit, there, of course, it should be adopted. As a general rule, the translator should guard against introducing in one language the forms of expression which mark the genius of the other, although the literal translation might not present any violation of grammar. But, however desirable elegances of style may be in a translation, whenever they are irreconcilable with the sense of the original, they should be sacrificed; correctness in the native expression is all that can be expected.

It is often suggested, as a general direction, that the foreign work should be rendered in that style which, it may be presumed, its author would have employed, had he written in the language into which the translation is made. This suggestion, although consistent with reason, must be received with some caution; for, if strictly followed, it may sometimes lead to mere imitation rather than to faithful interpretation of the original. This rule may suit a transiation written for the public; but it would not

"Tristis severitas inest in vultů."-TERENTIUs, Andria., act. V.