rcame all the difficulties connected
with the German language. But, alas! another difficulty remained, far
greater than any connected with German--a difficulty connected with the
language of the publisher--the language which the great man employed in
his writings was very hard to understand; I say in his writings--for his
colloquial English was plain enough. Though not professing to be a
scholar, he was much addicted, when writing, to the use of Greek and
Latin terms, not as other people used them, but in a manner of his own,
which set the authority of dictionaries at defiance; the consequence was,
that I was sometimes utterly at a loss to understand the meaning of the
publisher. Many a quarter of an hour did I pass at this period, staring
at periods of the publisher, and wondering what he could mean, but in
vain, till at last, with a shake of the head, I would snatch up the pen,
and render the publisher literally into German. Sometimes I was almost
tempted to substitute something of my own for what the publisher had
written, but my conscience interposed; the awful words, Traduttore
traditore, commenced ringing in my ears, and I asked myself whether I
should be acting honourably towards the publisher, who had committed to
me the delicate task of translating him into German; should I be acting
honourably towards him, in making him speak in German in a manner
different from that in which he expressed himself in English? No, I
could not reconcile such conduct with any principle of honour; by
substituting something of my own in lieu of these mysterious passages of
the publisher, I might be giving a fatal blow to his whole system of
philosophy. Besides, when translating into English, had I treated
foreign authors in this manner? Had I treated the minstrels of the Koempe
Viser in this manner?--No. Had I treated Ab Gwilym in this manner? Even
when translating his Ode to the Mist, in which he is misty enough, had I
attempted to make Ab Gwilym less misty? No; on referring to my
translation, I found that Ab Gwilym in my hands was quite as misty as in
his own. Then, seeing that I had not ventured to take liberties with
people who had never put themselves into my hands for the purpose of
being rendered, how could I venture to substitute my own thoughts and
ideas for the publisher's, who had put himself into my hands for that
purpose? Forbid it every proper feeling!--so I told the Germans in the
publisher's own way, the pu