itical discussion.

There has always existed a question as to the true principles of
translation when applied, not to the mere literature of _knowledge_
(because _there_ it is impossible that two opinions can arise, by how
much closer the version by so much the better), but to the literature of
_power_, and to such works--above all, to poems--as might fairly be
considered _works of art_ in the highest sense. To what extent the
principle of _compensation_ might reasonably be carried, the license,
that is, of departing from the strict literal forms of the original
writer, whether as to expressions, images, or even as to the secondary
thoughts, for the sake of reproducing them in some shape less repellent
to a modern ear, and therefore virtually sustaining the harmony of the
composition by preventing the attention from settling in a
disproportionate degree upon what might have a startling effect to a
taste trained under modern discipline--this question has always been
pending as a question open to revision before the modern courts of
criticism; as surely to you, Dr. North, one of the chief 'swells' on
that bench, I need not say. But, for the sake of accurate thinking, it
is worth while observing that formerly this question was moved almost
exclusively with a view to the Latin and Greek classics; and that
circumstance gave a great and a very just bias to the whole dispute. For
the difference with regard to any capital author of ancient days, as
compared with modern authors, is this, that here we have a twofold
interest--an interest with work, and a separate interest in the writer.
Take the 'Prometheus Desmotes' of AEschylus, and suppose that a
translator should offer us an English 'Prometheus,' which he
acknowledged to be very free, but at the same time contended that his
variations from the Greek were so many downright improvements, so that,
if he had not given us the genuine 'Prometheus,' he had given us
something better. In such a case we should all reply, but we do not want
something better. Our object is not the best possible drama that could
be produced on the fable of 'Prometheus'; what we want is the very
'Prometheus' that was written by AEschylus, the very drama that was
represented at Athens. The Athenian audience itself, and what pleased
its taste, is already one subject of interest. AEschylus on his own
account is another. These are collateral and alien subjects of interest
quite independent of our interest in t