deludes us with the semblance of, and, when it is present, conceals."* This will be admitted to be very high authority in favor of occasional prose translations of poetry; and I think no one who knows Faust will deny, that it is the poem of all others of which a prose translation is most imperatively required, — for the simple reason, that it teems with thought, and has long exercised a widely-spread influence by qualities independent of metre and rhyme. I am not aware that I can illustrate my meaning better than by the following extract from a German Review. It forms part of a critical notice of a work by M. Rosenkranz, and (with all its exaggeration and enthusiasm) may be taken as a fair sample of the light in which Faust is considered in Germany: "The various attempts to continue the infinite matter of Faust where Goethe drops it, although in themselves fruitless and unsuccessful, at least show in what manifold ways this great poem may be conceived, and how it presents a different side to every individuality. As the sunbeam breaks itself differently in every eye, and the starred heaven and nature are different for every soul-mirror, so is it with this immeasurable and exhaustless poem. We have seen illustrators and continuers of Faust, who, captivated by the practical wisdom which pervades it, considered the whole poem as one great collection of maxims of life; we have met with others who saw nothing else in it but a pantheistical solution of the enigma of existence; others again, more alive to the genius of poetry, admired only the poetical clothing of the ideas, which otherwise seemed to them to have little significance; and others, again, saw nothing peculiar but the felicitous exposition of a philosophical theory, and the specification of certain errors of practical life. All * Aus meinem Leben: Dichtung und Wahrheit. —Th. iii. b. 11. Hardly a single sentence of the English version, published under the title of "Memoirs of Goethe," is to be depended upon. The translation of Shakspeare, mentioned by Goethe, was originally undertaken by Wieland, who, according to Grüber, was paid at the rate of two Thalers (six shillings) per sheet. He completed twenty-two of the plays; which were afterwards republished by Eschenburg, with the rest translated by himself. ↑ Die Blätter für Literarische Unterhaltung-Leipzig. these are right; for from all these points of view Faust is great and significant; but whilst it appears to follow these several directions as radiations from a focus, at the same time it contains (but for the most part concealed) its peculiar, truly great, and principal direction; and this is the reconcilement of the great contradiction of the world, the establishment of peace between the Real and the Ideal. No one who loses sight of this, the great foundation of Faust, will find himself in a condition. we do not say to explain or continue, but even to read and comprehend the poem. This principal basis underlies all its particular tendencies - the religious, the philosophical, the scientific, the practical; and for this very reason is it, that the theologian, the scholar, the soldier, the man of the world, and the student of philosophy, to whatever school he may belong, are all sure of finding something to interest them in this allembracing production." Surely a work of which this, or anything like it, can be said, deserves to be translated as literally as the genius of our language will admit; with an almost exclusive reference to the strict meaning of the words, and a comparative disregard of the beauties which are commonly thought peculiar to poetry, should they prove irreconcilable with the sense. I am not saying that they will prove so, for the noblest conceptions and most beautiful descriptions in Faust would be noble and beautiful in any language capable of containing them, be it as unmusical and harsh as it would, "As sunshine broken on a rill, Though turned astray, is sunshine still." Still less am I saying that such a translation would be the best, or should be the only one. But I venture to think that it may possess some interest and utility now; when, at the distance of nearly half a century from the first appearance of the work, nothing at all approximating to an accurate version of it exists. With one or two exceptions, all attempts by foreigners (foreigners as regards Germany, I mean) to translate even solitary scenes or detached passages from Faust, are crowded with the most extraordinary mistakes, not of words merely, but of spirit and tone; and the author's fame has suffered accordingly. For no warnings on the part of those who know and would fain manifest the truth, can entirely obviate the deteriorating influence of such versions on the mind. "I dare say," the reader replies, "that what you tell me about this translation may be right, but the author's meaning can hardly be so obscured or perverted as to prevent my forming some notion of his powers." Now I print this translation with the view of proving to a certain number of my literary friends, and through them perhaps to the public at large, that they have hitherto had nothing from which they can form a just estimate of Faust; and with this view, and this view only, I shall prefix a few remarks on the English and French translators who have preceded me. [Here followed remarks on Lord Francis Egerton, Shelley, the author of the translation published with the English edition of Retzsch's "Outlines," the author of the translated passages in "Blackwood's Magazine," No. 39, (Dr. Anster,) Madame de Stael, and MM. de Sainte-Aulaire, Stapfer, and Gerard. These remarks are omitted because their original purpose has been fulfilled.] My main object in these criticisms is to shake, if not remove, the very disadvantageous impressions that have hitherto been prevalent of Faust, and keep public opinion suspended concerning Goethe till some poet of congenial spirit shall arise, capable of doing justice to this, the most splendid and interesting of his works. By my translation, also, I shall be able to show what he is not, though it will be quite impossible for me to show what he is. "Il me reste (says M. Stapfer) à protester contre ceux qui, après la lecture de cette traduction, s'imagineraient avoir acquis une idée complète de l'original. Porté sur tel ouvrage traduit que ce soit, le jugement serait erroné; il le serait surtout à l'égard de celui-ci, à cause de la perfection continue du style. Qu'on se figure tout le charme de l'Amphitryon de Molière joint à ce que les poésies de Parny offrent de plus gracieux, alors seulement on pourra se croire dispensé de le lire." If I do not say something of this sort, it is only because I cannot decide with what English names Molière and Parny would be most aptly replaced. The merely English reader, however, will perhaps take my simple assurance, that, from the admitted beauty of Goethe's versification, no writer loses more by being submitted to the crucible of prose ; though, at the same time, very few writers can afford to lose so much; as Dryden said of Shakspeare, if his embroideries were burnt down, there would still be silver at the bottom of the melting-pot. The bloom-like beauty of the songs, in particular, vanishes at the bare touch of a translator; as regards these, therefore, I may as well own at once that I am inviting my friends to a sort of Barmecide entertainment, where fancy must supply all the materials for banqueting. I have one comfort, however; the poets have hitherto tried their hands at them in vain, and I am backed by very high authority in declaring the most beautiful-" Meine Ruh' ist hin"—to be utterly untranslatable. Indeed, it is only by a lucky chance that a succession of simple heartfelt expressions or idiomatic felicities in one language, are ever capable of exact representation in another. Two passages already quoted appear well adapted to exemplify what I mean. When Margaret exclaims : "Sag Neimand das du schon bey Gretchen warst," it is quite impossible to render in English the finely shaded meaning of bey. Here, therefore, Germany has the best of it; but when we translate "Schön war ich auch, und das war mein verderben," we greatly im "I was fair too, and that was my undoing," My only object in giving a sort of rhythmical arrangement to the lyrical parts, was to convey some notion of the variety of versification which forms one great charm of the poem. The idea was first suggested to me by Milton's translation of the "Ode to Pyrrha," entitled: "Quis multâ gracillis te puer in rosâ, rendered almost word for word, without rhyme, according to the Latin measure, as near as the language will admit." But I have seldom, if ever, made any sacrifice of sense for the pur pose of rounding a line in the lyrics, or a period in the regular prose; proceeding throughout on the rooted conviction, that, if a translation such as mine be not literal, it is valueless. By literal, however, must be understood, merely that I have endeavored to convey the precise meaning of Goethe; an object often best attainable by preserving the exact form of expression employed by him, unless, indeed, it be an exclusively national one. Even then I have not always rejected it; for one great advantage to be anticipated from such translations is the naturalization of some of those pregnant modes of expression in which the German language is so remarkably rich. Idioms, of course, belong to a wholly different category. My remarks apply only to those phrases and compounds where nothing is wanting to make an Englishman perfectly au fait of them, but to think out the full meaning of the words. In all such cases, I translate literally, in direct defiance of those sagacious critics, who expect to catch the spirit of a work of genius as dogs lap water from the Nile, and vote a German author unreadable, unless all his own and his country's peculiarities are planed away. In short, my theory is, that if the English reader, not knowing German, be made to stand in the same relation to Faust as the English reader, thoroughly acquainted with German, stands in towards it—that is, if the same impressions be conveyed through the same sort of medium, whether bright or dusky, coarse or fine - the very extreme point of a translator's duty has been attained. But, though pretty confident of the correctness of this theory, I am far from certain that my practice uniformly accords with it "Video meliora proboque, Deteriora sequor "— I cannot deny that I have often been driven to a paraphrase by necessity, and sometimes seduced into one by indolence. As the translation, however, has been executed at leisure moments, was finished many months ago, and has undergone the careful revisal of friends, I think I can answer for its general accuracy; but in a work so crowded with elliptical and idiomatic, nay, even provincial modes of expression, and containing |