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Updated: June 26, 2025
Well... never mind," sighed Stepan Trofimovitch, and he got out of the cart. He looked about him mournfully; the village scene seemed strange to him and somehow terribly remote. *February 19, 1861, the day of the Emancipation of the Serfs, is meant. Translator's note.
A vivid description of this scene by Shelley to one of his friends may have been mistaken for a circumstance that had actually happened to the poet himself. The "Athenaeum", in its elaborate review of the earlier translation of this drama, thus writes: "With the prayer of St. Patrick considerable licence has been taken; but its spirit is well preserved, and the translator's poetry must be admired.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. To the reader who knows Nietzsche, who has studied his Zarathustra and understood it, and who, in addition, has digested the works entitled Beyond Good and Evil, The Genealogy of Morals, The Twilight of the Idols, and The Antichrist, to such a reader everything in this volume will be perfectly clear and comprehensible.
In translation, only a strictly classical language should be used; no word of slang, or even word of modern origin should be employed; the translator's aim should be never to dissipate the illusion of an exotic. If I were translating the "Assommoir" into English, I should strive after a strong, flexible, but colourless language, something what shall I say? a sort of a modern Addison.
The address entitled "A Word to the Reader," is padded with citations from Burton's Camoens and his Supplemental Nights, including the well-known passage concerning his estimate of a translator's office, and the whole work bears evidence of extreme haste. We are assured that it will be "most interesting to anthropologists and humanists." Catullus and the Last Trip, July September 1890.
I know no writer who leaves one with the same vision of men and women as lost sheep. We are now apparently to have a complete edition of the tales of Tchehov in English from Mrs. Garnett. It will deserve a place, both for the author's and the translator's sake, beside her Turgenev and Dostoevsky. In lifelikeness and graciousness her work as a translator always reaches a high level.
A certain Fidentinus once stole the work of the Roman poet Martial, and read it out to the assembly as his own; whereupon Martial wrote this epigram, The book you read is, Fidentinus, mine, Tho' read so badly, it well may pass for thine. But even apart from such bad taste as the aforementioned translator's, I do not like to see portraits of living authors in their books.
There is a great variety of these, and there are many opinions about their age; but it is not likely that the oldest of them was committed to writing before the second century A. D. They are curious specimens of the translator's work, combining text and commentary in a remarkable manner.
The old Norse ballad referred to Sigurd's death at Clontarf in 1014. It is known as Darratha-Liod or The Javelin-Song, and is translated by the late Eirikr Magnusson and printed in the Miscellany of the Viking Society with the Old Norse original and the translator's scholarly notes and explanations.
Bernhardt had uttered them with no effect whatever. Her Hamlet, indeed, cut many of the things that we have learned to think the points of Hamlet, and it so transformed others by its interpretation of the translator's interpretation of Shakespeare that they passed unrecognized.
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