An Essay Toward a History of Shakespeare in Norway Part 5

but they are of notable quality, and they save the Riksmaal literature from the reproach of surrendering completely to the Landsmaal the task of turning Shakespeare into Norwegian. With the exception of a few lines from _Macbeth_ and _Oth.e.l.lo_, the selections are all from _The Merchant of Venice_.

[22. _The Merchant of Venice_. Med Indledning og Anmaerkninger ved Christen Collin. Kristiania. 1902. (This, of course, does not include the translations of the sonnets referred to below.)]

A good part of Collin's success must be attributed to his intimate familiarity with English. The fine nuances of the language do not escape him, and he can use it not with precision merely but with audacity and power. Long years of close and sympathetic a.s.sociation with the literature of England has made English well-nigh a second mother tongue to this fine and appreciative critic. But he is more than a critic. He has more than a little of the true poet's insight and the true poet's gift of song. All this has combined to give us a body of translations which, for fine felicity, stand unrivalled in Dano-Norwegian. Many of these have been prepared for lecture purposes and have never been printed.[23] Only a few have been perpetuated in this text edition of _The Merchant of Venice_. We shall discuss the edition itself below.

Our concern here is with the translations. We remember La.s.sen's and Lembcke's opening of the fifth act. Collin is more successful than his countryman.

_Lor_: Hvor Maanen straaler! I en nat som denne, da milde vindpust kyssed skovens traer og alting var saa tyst, i slig en nat Troilus kanske steg op paa Trojas mure og stnned ud sin sjael mod Graekerteltene hvor Cressida laa den nat.

_Jes_: I slig en nat kom Thisbe angstfuldt trippende over duggen,-- saa lvens skygge, fr hun saa den selv, og lb forskraekket bort.

_Lor_: I slig en nat stod Dido med en vidjekvist i haand paa havets strand og vinkede aeneas tilbage til Karthago.

_Jes_: I slig en nat Medea sanked urter som foryngede den gamle aesons liv.

_Lor_: I slig en nat stjal Jessica sig fra den rige Jde med en forflien elsker fra Venedig og fandt i Belmont ly.

_Jes_: I en saadan nat svor ung Lorenzo at hun var ham kjaer og stjal med mange eder hendes hjerte, men ikke en var sand.

_Lor_: I slig en nat skjn Jessica, den lille heks, bagtalte sin elsker og han--tilgav hende alt.

[23. I have seen these translations in the typewritten copies which Professor Collin distributed among his students.]

"A translation of this pa.s.sage," says Collin,[24] "can hardly be more than an approximation, but its inadequacy will only emphasize the beauty of the original." Nevertheless we have here more than a feeble approximation. It is not equal to Shakespeare, but it is good Norwegian poetry and as faithful as translation can or need be. It is difficult to refrain from giving Portia's plea for mercy, but I shall give instead Collin's striking rendering of Shylock's arraignment of Antonio:[25]

Signor Antonio, mangen en gang og t.i.t har paa Rialto torv I skjaeldt mig ud for mine pengelaan og mine renter....

Jeg bar det med taalmodigt skuldertraek, for taalmod er jo blit vor stammes merke.

I kalder mig en vantro, blodgrisk _hund_ og spytter paa min jdiske gaberdin-- hvorfor? for brug af hvad der er mit eget!

Nu synes det, I traenger til min hjaelp.

Nei virkelig? I kommer nu til mig og siger: Shylock, laan os penge,--I, som slaengte eders slim hen paa mit skjaeg og satte foden paa mig, som I spaendte, en kjter fra Jer dr, I be'r om penge!

Hvad skal jeg svare vel? Skal jeg 'ke svare: Har en hund penge? Er det muligt, at en kjter har tre tusinde dukater?

Eller skal jeg bukke dybt og i traelletone med saenket rst og underdanig hvisken formaele: "Min herre, I spytted paa mig sidste onsdag, en anden dag I spaendte mig, en tredje I kaldte mig en hund; for al den artighed jeg laaner Jer saa og saa mange penge?"

[24. Collin, _op. cit._, _Indledning_, XII.]

[25. Collin, _op. cit._, _Indledning_, XXVI. (_M. of V._, 1-3)]

It is to be regretted that Collin did not give us Shylock's still more impa.s.sioned outburst to Salarino in Act III. He would have done it well.

It would be a gracious task to give more of this translator's work. It is, slight though its quant.i.ty, a genuine contribution to the body of excellent translation literature of the world. I shall quote but one more pa.s.sage, a few lines from _Macbeth_.[26]

"Det tyktes mig som hrte jeg en rst; Sov aldrig mer! Macbeth har myrdet svnen, den skyldfri svn, som lser sorgens floke, hvert daglivs dd, et bad for mdig mie, balsam for sjaelesaar og alnaturens den sde efterret,--dog hovednaeringen ved livets gjaestebud....

_Lady Macbeth_: Hvad er det, du mener?

_Macbeth_: "Sov aldrig mer," det skreg til hele huset.

Glarais har myrdet svnen, derfor Cawdor skal aldrig mer faa svn,--Macbeth, Macbeth skal aldrig mer faa svn!"

[26. Collin, _op. cit._, _Indledning_, XXV. _Macbeth_ II, 1.]

H

We have hitherto discussed the Norwegian translations of Shakespeare in almost exact chronological order. It has been possible to do this because the plays have either been translated by a single man and issued close together, as in the case of Hartvig La.s.sen, or they have appeared separately from the hands of different translators and at widely different periods. We come now, however, to a group of translations which, although the work of different men and published independently from 1901 to 1912, nevertheless belong together. They are all in Landsmaal and they represent quite clearly an effort to enrich the literature of the new dialect with translations from Shakespeare. To do this successfully would, obviously, be a great gain. The Maalstraevere would thereby prove the capacity of their tongue for the highest, most exotic forms of literature. They would give to it, moreover, the discipline which the translation of foreign cla.s.sics could not fail to afford. It was thus a renewal of the missionary spirit of Ivar Aasen.

And behind it all was the defiant feeling that Norwegians should have Shakespeare in Norwegian, not in Danish or b.a.s.t.a.r.d Danish.

The spirit of these translations is obvious enough from the opening sentence of Madhus' preface to his translation of _Macbeth_:[27]

"I should hardly have ventured to publish this first attempt at a Norwegian translation of Shakespeare if competent men had not urged me to do so." It is frankly declared to be the first Norwegian translation of Shakespeare. Hauge and La.s.sen, to say nothing of the translator of 1818, are curtly dismissed from Norwegian literature. They belong to Denmark. This might be true if it were not for the bland a.s.sumption that nothing is really Norwegian except what is written in the dialect of a particular group of Norwegians. The fundamental error of the "Maalstraevere" is the inability to comprehend the simple fact that language has no natural, instinctive connection with race. An American born in America of Norwegian parents _may_, if his parents are energetic and circ.u.mstances favorable, learn the tongue of his father and mother, but his natural speech, the medium he uses easily, his real mother-tongue, will be English. Will it be contended that this American has lost anything in spiritual power or linguistic facility? Quite the contrary. The use of Danish in Norway has had the unfortunate effect of stirring up a bitter war between the two literary languages or the two dialects of the same language, but it has imposed no bonds on the literary or intellectual powers of a large part of the people, for the simple reason that these people have long used the language as their own. And because they live in Norway they have made the speech Norwegian. Despite its Danish origin, Dano-Norwegian is today as truly Norwegian as any other Norwegian dialect, and in its literary form it is, in a sense, more Norwegian than the literary Landsmaal, for the language of Bjrnson has grown up gradually on Norwegian soil; the language of Ivar Aasen is not yet acclimatized.

[27. William Shakespeare: _Macbeth_. I norsk Umskrift ved Olav Madhus. Kristiania. 1901. H. Aschehoug & Co.]

For these reasons it will not do to let Madhus' calm a.s.sertion go unchallenged. The fact is that to a large part of the Norwegian people La.s.sen's translations represent merely a slightly Danicized form of their own language, while to the same people the language of Madhus is at least as foreign as Swedish. This is not the place for a discussion of "Sprogstriden." We may give full recognition to Landsmaal without subscribing to the creed of enthusiasts. And it is still easier to give credit to the excellence of the Shakespeare translations in Landsmaal without concerning ourselves with the partisans.h.i.+p of the translator.

What shall we say, then, of the _Macbeth_ of Olav Madhus?

First, that it is decidedly good. The tragedy of Macbeth is stark, grim, stern, and the vigorous, resonant Norwegian fits admirably. There is little opportunity, as in Aasen's selections from _Romeo and Juliet_ for those unfortunate contrasts between the homespun of the modern dialect and the exquisite silk and gossamer of the vocabulary of romance of a "cultured language." Madhus has been successful in rendering into Landsmaal scenes as different as the witch-scene, the porter-scene (which La.s.sen omitted for fear it would contaminate the minds of school children), the exquisite lines of the King and Banquo on their arrival at Macbeth's castle, and Macbeth's last, tragic soliloquy when he learns of the death of his queen.

Duncan and Banquo arrive at the castle of Macbeth and Duncan speaks those lovely lines: "This castle has a pleasant seat," etc. Madhus translates:

_Duncan_: Ho hev eit f.a.gert laegje, denne borgi, og lufti lyar seg og gjer seg smeiki aat vaare glade sansar.

_Banquo_: Sumar-gjesten, den tempel-kjaere svala, vitnar med, at himlens ande blakrar smeikin her, med di at ho so gjerne her vil byggje.

Det finst kje sule eller takskjeggs livd og ikkje voll h.e.l.l vigskar, der ei ho hev hengt si lette seng og barne-vogge.

Der ho mest bur og braeer, hev eg merkt meg, er lufti herleg.

This is as light and luminous as possible. Contrast it with the slow, solemn tempo of the opening of Act I, Sc. 7--Macbeth's "If it were done when 'tis done," etc.

Um det var gjort, naar d'er gjort, var det vael, um det vart snart gjort; kunde lynmordsverke, stengje og binde alle vonde fylgdir og, med aa faa hurt honom, naa sitt maal, so denne eine styten som maa til, vart enden, alt, det siste som det fyrste i tidi her--den havsens yr og bode me sit paa no--,--med live som kjem etter det fekk daa vaage voni. Men i slikt vert domen sagd alt her. Blodtankane, me el, kjem vaksne att og piner oss, som gav deim liv og fostra deim; og drykken, som me hev blanda eiter i aat andre, vert eingong uta miskunn bodin fram av rettferds hand aat vaare eigne munnar.

The deep tones of a language born in mountains and along fjords finely re-echo the dark broodings in Macbeth's soul.

Or take still another example, the witch-scene in Act IV. It opens in Madhus' version:

_Fyrste Heks_: Tri gong mjava brandut katt.

_Andre Heks_: Tri og ein gong bust-svin peip.

_Tridje Heks_: Val-ramn skrik. D'er tid, d'er tid.

_Fyrste Heks_: Ring um gryta gjeng me tri; sleng forgiftigt seid--mang i.

Gyrme-gro, som under stein dagar tredive og ein sveita eiter, lat og leid, koke fyrst i vaaro seid.

_Alle_: Tvifaldt trael og mda duble; brand frase, seid buble!

_Andre Heks_: Myrkjt av ein myr-orm kald so i gryta koke skal.

dle-augo, skinnveng-haar, hundetunge, froskelaar, sleve-brodd, firfisle-svord, ule-veng og lyngaal-spord til eit seid som sinn kann rengje hel-sodd-heitt seg saman mengje!

This is not only accurate; it is a decidedly successful imitation of the movement of the original. Madhus has done a first-rate piece of work.

The language of witch-craft is as international as the language of science. But only a poet can turn it to poetic use.