Text: Henry Edward Cain, “Chapter IV,” The Poe-Mangan Question (1929), pp. vii-xii

[page 67:]

Perhaps no undertaking that falls to the lot of the student of literature is more fraught with difficulty and complexity than that of evaluating a translator. The student who undertakes this work incurs a double liability, for he is at once in danger of misjudging the translator and the one whose works are translated. Likewise, he finds it most difficult to settle upon standards and to fix the criteria upon which he must ultimately fall back. Wide diversity of opinion on the part of many who have given their lives to the study of translations tends to weaken his confidence.

However, an attempt will be made here, as far as it is consistent with the proportional development of this treatise, to define the worth of James Clarence Mangan as a translator of German poetry.

In order to do this without working any injustice to Mangan, it will be necessary to answer, either as preliminary to the work, or in the work itself, the following questions: What of importance, up to this time, has been said of Mangan as a translator? What prompted Mangan to translate from the German poets and who was his teacher? With what end in view did Mangan offer these translations to the public? What was Mangan's own theory of the art of translating? To what extent do critics in general agree or disagree with that theory? Granting that Mangan's knowledge of English was quite adequate to the task, we must ask, “How extensive was his knowledge of German?”

Probably the earliest printed comment on Mangan as a translator appeared in 1844. The anonymous author says:

And he adds:

It has already been pointed out in the introductory chapter how lavish were some of his countrymen in their praise of him. Without wishing to add to this, it seems fitting, in view of the rather sober opinion expressed above, to insert here something which is more typically superlative:

“.. their [referring to the German translations] melody haunts the ear, and the soft dreamy beauty of the sumptuous robe which they sometimes throw around the dry bones of a ballad, harsh and meagre enough before, leads one to believe that if the German author could see himself so richly clothed, he would admit that in the account between him and his translator, the balance would be heavily in favor of the latter.”(2)

Taken together, these two opinions very closely represent the opinion in Ireland of Mangan as a translator. Much has been said since, but it is, for the most part, essentially similar. A new note has been sounded, however, in recent years. A student of the poetry of Goethe in English translation says of Mangan: “ His virtues are his weakness, for his unbounded command of his own language, his freedom in verse, and his fondness for quaint expressions sometimes led him to deviate and to adorn the lines which he was translating. Nevertheless, we find here for the first time a ringing, swinging quality in the lines, they sound genuine, they echo in one's memory, and they have lost to a large extent that stilted and superficial tone which has been so evident in most of the previous versions . . . ”(3)

Dr. Simmons, whose lines we have just quoted, mentions The Fisherman, The Violet, The King of Thule, and The Lay of the [page 69:] Captive Count as among the best of Mangan's translations of Goethe, and adds:

“Very few of Mangan's translations have been included in any of the general anthologies or later eclectic volumes of Goethe's poems which have come within the bounds of this investigation, and yet he did more than any translator, up to his day, to show to the foreign reader the ease, versatility, and melody of Goethe's verse.”(3)

With reference to this, it should be remarked that, if we can count the anthologies as a reliable index to a poet's value, Mangan's genius as a translator is all the time coming to a better respect. One of the most excellent of the modern anthologies of world poetry, for example, finds many places for his name.(4)

We come to answer the second question. At Dublin, during the third and fourth decades of the nineteenth century, there was a growing interest in the literature of Germany. Among those interested in German literature, with whom Mangan came in contact, was Dr. John Anster, one of the earliest translators of the Faust. Mitchel says, “ Dr. Anster not only understood and appreciated Clarence Mangan, but would have served and saved him, if he had permitted.”(5) This learned doctor was a lifelong student of German literature. As early as 1811 he published some poems from the German, and these he added to from time to time. In a brief sketch of Anster, which appeared in the Dublin University Magazine for November, 1839, we find the following remark:

“. . . the highest honors he has yet achieved are connected with the FAUST. He was the first who introduced this singular poem to the literature of England, and we doubt not that his complete translation will be the last which English literature will eventually require or permanently tolerate.”(6)

Anster completed and published this work in 1835, and it is this work in particular which leads us to believe that he influenced [page 70:] Mangan; for it exhibits many of the faults so characteristic of Mangan.

Another influence that no doubt gave impetus to the surge of interest in German literature at this time was that of one Herr Zander, of Berlin. This scholar was in Ireland for apparently no other reason than to disseminate his national propaganda and to imbue the inhabitants of Dublin with a respect and admiration for German literature and science. In March, 1833, appeared in the Dublin University Magazine these remarks:

“During the last month we were much gratified by a course of lectures which Herr Zander, of Berlin, delivered on the Belles Lettres of Germany. The history of the intellectual development of a nation — incontestably the most literary in existence — and an account of the principal authors, and the peculiarity of their style and mode of thinking, could not fail to be highly interesting, especially as these subjects were to be illustrated by a native who is so much better qualified to enter into the peculiar spirit of the writers of every age, than any foreigner. [Here the author gives the outline of a comprehensive series of lectures.]

“A German professorship has been established in their institution by the enterprising inhabitants of Belfast, whose exertions in the advancement of literature in all its branches have been, we are happy to say, as successful in their result as they were eminently laudable in their design. We should lose no opportunity of entering the lists of noble emulation with their spirited societies, but encourage as far as it is possible such able professors of Continental Literature as come to sojourn amongst us. The works of German authors have been but little understood here as yet, and of course but imperfectly appreciated. We trust sincerely that the public lectures, which we understand it is Herr Zander's intention to deliver from time to time, so admirably adapted to render the deficiencies of a mere superficial knowledge upon a subject so important, may meet with such a reception as from the talent and industry displayed in their style and arrangement we firmly believe them entitled to.”(7) [page 71:]

It is, moreover, evident from this in what high esteem the editors of the Dublin University Magazine [[Dublin University Magazine]], then the most important literary publication in Ireland, held the culture and learning of the Germans.

Mangan was a real lover of German poetry. The enthusiasm with which he approached every accessible volume of it leaves scarcely any room for question. Assurance of this comes to one who reads his introductions to, and interspersed comments on, the Anthologia Germanica, and Stray Leaves from the German Oak as they appeared in the Dublin University Magazine. Further than this, it is evident that at least one of his purposes in rendering into English so many German lyrics was to plant and germinate the seed of appreciation of the power and spirit of Teuton lyricism in the hearts of his countrymen. He himself throws some light on this phase of the question:

“. . . it is now generally admitted by both Tyrian and Trojan that we have awakened a wide and deep, and intense and permanent interest in favor of the literature of German, solely by the bold, arrogant, audacious, judicious, and original manner in which we have dared to improve upon its poetry and hector its poets. We have blown soapbubble after soapbubble into their legitimate dignity of rainbows; and the rudest apparent grossnesses of our originals have dazzled the eye upon coming forth from our hands as gold when it issues from the furnace seventy times purified.”(8)

Let us turn now to the theory of translation. The first principles of Mangan's theory are correct. He believed that a translator should also be a poet, and that the poet should never nod while the translator is busy; that is, he believed that a translator should be a man of original genius. He believed that, whenever the original would submit to improvement, this improvement should be made. We agree provisionally with this: of course, wherever a purely literal translation would be obscure, or would not be expressive of the spirit of the original, this alteration, within bounds, would be admissible; it would also be admissible wherever the spiritual beauty of the original was heightened, if nothing foreign to that beauty were introduced, and wherever the emotional force was properly intensified. Mangan says: [page 72:]

“A translator, in grappling with his original, should be possessed by a feeling akin to that which animates the matador in his contests with the bull; but if there be positively nothing in that original which can awaken such a feeling, it is clear that it must continue to slumber. The energy can be elicited only by the occasion. In other words, none but good poems are susceptible of being well translated. For it is in this department of literature as it is in love; the maintenance of fidelity toward the beautiful is always easier than it is toward the ordinary.”(9)

We presume that Mangan wishes to imply, in using the matador simile, that a translator should take mental possession of all the beauty of his original, should conquer its most difficult thoughts, and make himself sensible to all the shades and nuances of its language. By the second part he means that only the best poetry should be selected for translation. In regard to this, some pertinent remarks are offered; in an article by Kirste we find the point discussed:

“. . . Ich hätte deshalb keine Ursache darauf zurückzukommen, wenn Herr Wollner nicht am Schlusse seines Artikels einige allgemeine Fragen berührte, die für jeden Ãœbersetzer von grösster Wichtigkeit sind und zu deren Besprechung gerade diese Zeitschrift der geeignetste Discussionsplatz sein dürfte.

“Herr Wollner sagt, dass die Ãœbersetzer in der Auswahl des zu Ãœbertragenden so streng als möglich vorgehen und die fremde Literatur ihren Landsleuten nur von der interessantesten Seite zeigen sollen. Zugegeben; doch wo liegt der Massstab zur Beurteilung eines fremden Geistesproduktes? Bei den Deutschen, bei dem Ãœbersetzer, bei dem Fremden? Herr Wollner antwortet: bei dem Ãœbersetzer. Darauf lässt sich bemerken, dass es auch dem geübtesten Ãœbersetzer vielleicht gerade deswegen, weil er sich in die Eigenart des fremden Volkes hineingelebt hat, manchmal schwer wird zu beurteilen, ob seine Arbeit das Interesse des deutschen Lesers in demselben Masse erwecken wird, als das Original das Interesse des Vermittlers. Ihm geht es gerade so wie den Dichtern selbst, die ihre Werke häufig in ganz anderer Wertschätzung neben einander stellen, als das Publikum.”(10) [page 73:]

Mangan thought, evidently, that the most interesting side would, of course, be the most beautiful. At the same time no translator can be expected to please his public better than any poet, for, to the public in general, the productions of both are the same. But we are inclined to side with Herr Wollner, for as Mangan so aptly, though rather humorously, points out in the quotation from him above, beauty begets inspiration in the poet and tends to invite his fidelity; thus the judgment of the aesthetic value of the original should lie wholly with the translator. He is expected to know the whole of the work of the author whom he translates, and to be able to cull what is most representative and characteristic of the artistic genius manifested in the whole.

Moreover, Mangan believed that in order to liberate his works from the yoke of foreign idiom, it would be necessary to render them as they might have appeared originally from the hand of a native genius. He says:

“. . . we must in our selections, employ the Queen's English instead of the Emperor's German, but even through the medium of the vernacular the excellent taste you have displayed will be conspicuous. Besides, in thus anglicising, to whisper you the truth, we have a motive-and upon third thoughts, a third. We wish our readers to understand what they read. We wish to gain a prodigious deal of éclat by our translations, so called. Also we wish to embellish our originals where they want embellishing.”(11)

Thus we see that Mangan openly avowed that it was his purpose to alter and expand wherever he saw fit to do so. In introducing some of Schiller's poems to the public he remarked:

“We have (for no base purposes), disguised them to the best of our ability; but we should, after all, be loath to hear that they had forfeited their identity. They are short poems of a lyrical and miscellaneous description, and, we should hope, marketable merchandise yet. If otherwise, we shall experience a certain regret, but no compunction.”(12)

Among the poems thus referred to by Mangan are The Maiden's [page 74:] Plaint, The Lament of Ceres, The Knight of Toggenburg, and Unrealities.

The imperfections of many of Mangan's earlier poems are due, no doubt, in large measure to the influence of Anster; but we see that his later poems are somewhat more faithful renditions of their originals. So, if we must question him, let us question rather his method than his capabilities.

Mangan had not too great a respect for the metrical and stanzaic structure of his originals, a fault from which we often find it difficult to exculpate him. No one can gainsay that the spirit of a poem is as often conveyed through the medium of its rhythm as through the medium of its language. Likewise, fidelity to metrical and stanzaic arrangement is very often desirable because in any other form it can not be set to the original music.

We come now to the investigation of Mangan's knowledge of German. Mangan did know German very well. He knew the history of the language, the grammar of the language, and had lived himself into its idiom. There is some evidence to support this. The translations of the German poetry are in themselves substantial evidence of Mangan's ability as a linguist, and, hereafter, in examining them it will from time to time be pointed out how well he knew the German. But there is evidence of another sort. First of all, Mangan is known to have taught German. Father O’Neill says with reference to Miss Catherine Hayes:

“He [Mangan] taught her German and French in 1831.”(13)

Evidence that Mangan knew the grammar and history of the language is furnished by Mangan himself. In still another of his prefaces to some poems in the Dublin University Magazine, he criticizes a volume offered by a Professor Krittauer, purporting to present an easy method of learning German, and says that he knows of a still better method. In the same preface he divulges the fact that he prided himself on his reputation as a philologist. Referring to a publication like the London Linguist, he says:

“. . . since the paramount importance of philological studies is now conceded — since it is admitted that without a thorough knowledge of many languages, the Indo-European especially, no man can [page 75:] acquire correct notions with respect to the past history or existing

conditions of society — will not this be a triumph unspeakable.”(14)

There can be little doubt that Mangan's vanity incited him to make many of the remarks in this preface and others; nevertheless, it appears that some truth shines through it all.

Again, in presenting certain poems from the German, Mangan explained:

“The German language certainly comprehends an extensive number of words applicable to double-rhyming purposes. But it is an error to imagine that it is more copious in this respect than the English. The fallacy by which it is made to appear more copious is easily detected. At least nine-tenths of all the double-rhymes may be said to be of one class. The infinitive of every German verb (with two or three exceptions) is a polysyllable, and terminates in en. This termination is also found in other forms of the verb and constitutes the plural of many nouns. All the words thus terminated are available as double-rhymes . . .”(15)

In addition to these indications that Mangan knew the grammar and history of the language, there is evidence to lead us to believe that he admired and cherished a deep feeling for the language itself. Duffy relates in his reminiscences of his acquaintance with Mangan:

“I was a journalist at the time I made Mangan's acquaintance, and my only holiday was on Saturday, the evening of which, after a little time, Mangan habitually spent with me tête-à-tête-nights of blessed memory. The speeches in Shakespeare, Schiller, and Byron were as familiar to him as the alphabet. ”(16)

Thus we have direct evidence, apart from the translations, that Mangan knew German.

Let us now turn to the consideration of the translations.

Representative translations will first be examined with a view to determining their value as such. Attention will be directed to metrical and stanzaic structure, and rime scheme, and criticism [page 76:] will be ventured with regard to the substance, fidelity of spiritual interpretation, and felicity of choice.

In the preceding chapter a comparison was made between two stanzas of the 1834 translation of Bürger's Lenore, the 1846 version, and the original. A re-examination of those stanzas will disclose that, in fact, and according to Mangan's preface in presenting the second version of the poem, the later stanzas are practically perfect representations of the rime scheme, meter, and stanzaic structure of the original. The later translation is also more literal than the earlier. It will be noticed, however, that the even flow of the language in the stanzas of 1834 is somewhat disturbed in the later version.

It was especially difficult for Mangan to make verbatim translations. Even where he was not hampered by the necessity of conforming to rime scheme and well defined metrical arrangement, he was apt to fail in translation when he attempted to be absolutely literal. Mark how little of the spirit, tone, and beauty of Schubart's Der Ewige Jude he has caught. The German has in part:

Mangan's translation corresponding to the original above is:

In making this translation Mangan offended against his own theories of translation. First, there were in the original words and figures which did not appeal to his sense of the sublime. In a footnote on the poem he criticized the author's choice of words, though he no doubt perceived the high spirit of the whole. Nevertheless, as Mangan admits, the more beauty and the less fault a translator sees in an original, the more perfect will be his own product. He offended here against his own dictum by translating in the “Emperor's German.” Note how he has translated brüllte by bellowed, whereas thundered would be preferred according to the connotation of the words in English. Also, finding no exact word in English for polterten, Mangan resorted to the expedient of borrowing the German word. This translation might afford the skeptic further [page 78:] testimony of Mangan's knowledge of German, as might also the two translations to which we are about to refer.

No doubt, one of his most beautiful translations is that of Gesicht des Reisenden which appeared under the title, The Spectre-Caravan. Here, as in the translation of Freiligrath's Löwenritt, we remark how well he has caught the spirit of the original, and how nobly he has diffused their solemn sublimity through his own lines. These two poems have been chosen with a view to illustrating, first, how well he could keep the spirit without departing to a great extent from the original, and, second, how far he was apt to deviate from the imagery and sense impressions afforded by the original without considerably impairing the spiritual beauty of the original. Several stanzas are quoted from each:

In the first stanza the first and third lines are almost verbatim. He has, however, transferred the application of middle from desert to night. Still the suggestion of solitude and loneliness made by mitten is aptly preserved. The thought expressed by abgezäumten is ingeniously fixed in the phrase, stretched around.

In the fourth line the idea in rings is expressed, and, we believe, the effect of the picture heightened, by the phrase for many an arid mile.

In the second stanza, Mangan was less faithful. Yet he has retained and even enhanced the beauty of the original, despite that he did not translate the second line. However, it seems that no other elements are less essential to the meaning than the ones contained in that line.

In the third stanza sailing blackly down the sky has no literal source; yet it is a striking example of Mangan's artistic skill which enabled him to introduce alien elements to his translations which, far from impairing the thought and conception of the original, rather add to the intensity of its mood.

It has been deemed worth while to bring to this paper this bit of detail in order to support in some measure a belief that Mangan labored most painstakingly to reproduce in his translations every image suggested and every sensuous impression effected by the original.

On the other hand, a glance through the lines of his Lion's Ride almost shakes this belief. Yet, when we have read through both it and the original, we feel certain that he must have been charmed by Freiligrath's power. Several stanzas of the Löwenritt, along with the translation, are quoted:

No attempt has been made to retain the form of the original. At the same time Mangan has expanded even beyond the bounds of paraphrase, and in some cases, as in the first three lines of the first stanza, he has not succeeded in his attempt at improvement. Note also the disconcerting rime at the end of the third stanza. Nevertheless, the translation is in the main a powerful and majestic representation of the spiritual conception of the original, and one would have to search far for its peer. [page 81:]

With respect to these two poems a final remark may be in place. Morgan says:

And it is particularly evident in Mangan's translation of Löwenritt that in making it he betrayed himself to his own genius; but it scarcely seems possible that any other translator could have preserved so much substance as Mangan has preserved in The Spectre-Caravan without working injustice to the essential beauty of the entire poem.

A charming poem has come to us from Mangan's hand under the title, Noon-day Dreaming. Its original is Müller's Wohin? It deserves to be printed here along with the original. It is not altogether a faithful translation, yet it is one of those rare and happy unions of the art of the translator and the genius of the poet. Despite the perversions of the text, Mangan has succeeded in catching its mood, and with a seeming artlessness of gesture has brought to us all the graces of the original.

WOHIN?

 

NOONDAY DREAMING.

The main fault, of course, is that he has neglected the musical element suggested by rauschen. The metrical structure is well preserved, and though the German stanza has only two riming lines, Mangan has given it four.

Turning to the translations from Goethe, we find that Mangan here has been in general more faithful to his originals. We make no pretense to cover the range of them here; we venture to print only two of the shorter poems which could not well be omitted in any consideration of Mangan's translations of Goethe. They are The Violet and The Minstrel (Das Veilchen and Der Sänger).

THE VIOLET.

DAS VEILCHEN.

The meter and stanzaic structure here has been maintained, though Mangan's rimes are not so perfect or so well arranged as Goethe's. But the translation itself is as literal as could be wished. Mutations such as some flower of beauty rare and die schönste Blume der Natur, gebückt and alone, Wiese and valley are scarcely to be questioned, though the translation of herzig by delicate is not at all close.

The second poem from Goethe, The Minstrel, has been nobly done and little need be said of it beyond that it bears additional testimony to Mangan's skill in reproducing images and sensuous elements, and that it attests to Mangan's fine knowledge of German. Certainly it is a work of art. The original and the translation of Der Sänger follow:

DER SÄNGER.

 

THE MINSTREL.

Mangan translated more from Schiller than from any other poet. In addition to the large number of his poems published in the Anthologia Germanica, there are many on the pages of the Dublin University Magazine which have not been reprinted. Noteworthy among these latter is The Knight of Toggenburg (Ritter Toggenburg). Mangan also translated a small amount of Schiller's prose. For the most part, these translations show less fidelity to their originals than his “oversettings” of Goethe's lyrics.

Referring to the quotation cited a few pages back from Morgan, we have to admit that Mangan must have got all his information about the customs and manner of life among the Germans at second hand, for, as has already been seen, this Irishman never left his native land. Whether this was an advantage or a disadvantage we must leave to the reader to judge after he has considered the poems [page 87:] printed below. In reading Mangan's translations, we are often conscious of a peculiar atmosphere about them which is not so much German as it is Irish. Perhaps Mangan deliberately attempted to secure this effect; but this is debatable. We cite The Maiden's Plaint (Des Mädchens Klage, by Schiller) as an example:

THE MAIDEN'S PLAINT.

 

DES MÄDCHENS KLAGE.

Mangan has also rendered very well Der Gang nach dem Eisenhammer under the title The Message to the Iron Foundry. His Unrealities and The Lay of the Bell are likewise worthy of perusal.

One poem whose lines pay a high tribute to Mangan's poetical genius is Charlemagne and the Bridge of Moonbeams. As poetry it is a work of surpassing excellence; but as a translation it lays itself open to much criticism. Various and numerous digressions, the introduction of many pictures and fancies scarcely suggested by the original, and the shift of metrical structure bid us be wary of bestowing praise on the piece as a translation. Just such translations as these have brought upon Mangan much unfavorable criticism. While Mangan in this case shows himself susceptible to the mood and tone of the original, he has offended beyond reasonable bounds in altering the literal sense. He has improved the rime, but has entirely changed the meter throughout. The original is Emanuel Geibel's Rheinsage. Attention is called to the fact that, as the poem appeared in the Dublin University Magazine its author was designated “ Geibler.” This mistake was copied when the poems were published in 1845, and Mitchel, in his biography, used the same misnomer.

The German and the English is given here:

 

Despite the defects which this translation exhibits, it is, nevertheless, a well-wrought piece of art. At the same time, it should be said that this translation has the appearance of diverging more widely from its original than is really the case. The more we search in it, the more we find of the original. Translators, as a rule, are inclined to make the translation of each stanza complete; but Mangan has chosen to transfer words and images from one stanza to another. But the fault is not that Mangan has failed to include the pictures of the original, for they are all there, with the exception of what is contained in the final stanza. The fault is rather that he has added too many pictures that were not already there. And it is not difficult to believe that Mangan hoped to heighten the value of his own poem by adding so many new pictures, and that he felt that the final stanza which he gave his translation would fall more softly on Irish ears than the patriotic allusions made in the final German stanza.

Thus we have seen that Mangan had most of the qualifications proper to a translator. His great versatility in using rimes and meters and stanzas permitted him to match his genius with some of the best of Germany's talent, for he was not only a translator but a poet as well. Possessed of a keen and appreciative sense of artistic worth, he cherished, as he tells us in the preface to the Anthologia Germanica, a fond affection for the beauties of German [page 91:] poetry. He undoubtedly knew the language well, and the high esteem in which his countrymen hold him attests to the fact that he was successful in no small measure in bringing, for the first time, into Ireland's heart the true spirit of German lyricism.

Mangan's ability to translate accurately and literally is not to be questioned; it was only of his own choice that he altered or expanded his originals, and since, in some cases, by so doing he has actually enhanced the beauty of the original, we do not feel constrained to condemn him because, in other attempts at excellence, he was not highly successful.

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