I
In the year 1903, midway between the publication of Madhus' Macbeth and the appearance of his Kaupmannen i Venetia, there appeared in the chief literary magazine of the Landsmaal movement, "Syn og Segn," a translation of the fairy scenes of A Midsummer Night's Dream by Erik Eggen.[I.33] This is the sort of material which we should expect Landsmaal to render well. Oberon and Titania are not greatly different from Nissen and Alverne in Norwegian fairy tales, and the translator had but to fancy himself in Alveland to be in the enchanted wood near Athens. The spirit of the fairy scenes in Shakespeare is akin to the spirit of Asbjørnson's "Huldre-Eventyr." There is in them a community of feeling, of fancy, of ideas. And whereas Madhus had difficulty with the sunny romance of Italy, Eggen in the story of Puck found material ready to hand. The passage translated begins Act II, Sc. 1, and runs through Act II to Oberon's words immediately before the entrance of Helen and Demetrius:
But who comes here? I am invisible;
And I will overhear their conference.
Then the translator omits everything until Puck re-enters and Oberon greets him with the words:
Velkomen, vandrar; hev du blomen der?
(Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.)
Here the translation begins again and goes to the exit of Oberon and the entrance of Lysander and Hermia. This is all in the first selection in Syn og Segn, No. 3.
In the sixth number of the same year (1903) the work is continued. The translation here begins with Puck's words (Act III):
What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here?
So near the cradle of the fairy queen?
What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
An actor, too, if I see cause.
Then it breaks off again and resumes with the entrance of Puck and Bottom adorned with an ass's head. Quince's words: "O monstrous! O strange!" are given and then Puck's speech: "I'll follow you: I'll lead you about a round." After this there is a break till Bottom's song:
"The ousel cock, so black of hue," etc.
And now all proceeds without break to the Hail of the last elf called in to serve Bottom, but the following speeches between Bottom and the fairies, Cobweb, Mustardseed and Peaseblossom, are all cut, and the scene ends with Titania's speech:
"Come, wait upon him, lead him to my bower," etc.
Act III, Sc. 2, follows immediately, but the translation ends with the first line of Oberon's speech to Puck before the entrance of Demetrius and Hermia:
"This falls out better than I could devise."
and resumes with Oberon's words:
"I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy,"
and includes (with the omission of the last two lines) Oberon's speech beginning:
"But we are spirits of another sort."
Eggen then jumps to the fourth act and translates Titania's opening speech. After this there is a break till the entrance of Oberon. The dialogue between Titania and Oberon is given faithfully, except that in the speech in which Oberon removes the incantation, all the lines referring to the wedding of Theseus are omitted; the speeches of Puck, Oberon, and Titania immediately preceding the entrance of Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and their train, are rendered.
From Act V the entire second scene is given.
Eggen has, then, attempted to give a translation into Norwegian Landsmaal of the fairy scenes in A Midsummer Night's Dream. He has confined himself severely to his task as thus limited, even cutting out lines from the middle of speeches when these lines refer to another part of the action or to another group of characters. What we have is, then, a fragment, to be defended only as an experiment, and successful in proportion as it renders single lines, speeches, or songs well. On the whole, Eggen has been successful. There is a vigor and directness in his style which, indeed, seem rather Norwegian than Shakespearean, but which are, nevertheless, entirely convincing. One is scarcely conscious that it is a translation. And in the lighter, more romantic passages Eggen has hit the right tone with entire fidelity. His knowledge is sound. His notes, though exhibiting no special learning, show clearly that he is abreast of modern scholarship. Whenever his rendering seems daring, he accompanies it with a note that clearly and briefly sets forth why a particular word or phrase was chosen. The standard Danish, Norwegian, and German translations are known to him, and occasionally he borrows from them. But he knows exactly why he does borrow. His scholarship and his real poetic power combine to give us a translation of which Landsmaal literature has every reason to be proud. We need give only a few passages. I like the rollicking humor of Puck's words:
Kor torer uhengt kjeltrings pakk daa skvaldre
so nære vogga hennar alvemor?
Kva?—skodespel i gjerdom? Eg vil sjaa paa—
kann hende spele med, um so eg synest.
And a little farther on when Bottom, adorned with his ass's head, returns with Puck, and the simple players flee in terror and Puck exclaims:
Eg fylgjer dykk og fører rundt i tunn,
i myr og busk og ormegras og klunger,
og snart eg er ein hest og snart ein hund,
ein gris, ein mannvond bjørn, snart flammetungur,
og kneggjer, gøyr og ryler, murrar, brenn,
som hest, hund, gris, bjørn, varme—eitt um senn.
we give our unqualified admiration to the skill of the translator. Or, compare Titania's instructions to the fairies to serve her Bottom:
Ver venlege imot og tén den herren!
Dans vænt for augo hans, hopp der han gjeng!
Gjev aprikos og frukt fraa blaabærlid,
ei korg med druvur, fikjur, morbær i!
Stel honningsekken bort fraa annsam bi!
Til Nattljos hennar voksbein slit i fleng,—
kveik deim paa jonsok-onn i buskeheng!
Lys for min ven, naar han vil gaa i seng.
Fraa maala fivreld slit ein fager veng,
og fraa hans augo maaneljose steng.
Hels honom so, og kyss til honom sleng.
Fyrste Alven:
Menneskje.
Andre Alven:
Heil deg!
Tridje Alven:
Heil!
Fjorde Alven:
Heil og sæl!
Titania:
Tén honom so! Leid honom til mitt rom!
Eg tykkjer maanen er i augo vaat;
og naar han græt, daa græt kvar litin blom,
og minnest daa ei tilnøydd dygd med graat.
Legg handi paa hans munn! Og stilt far aat!
It is, however, in his exquisitely delicate rendering of the songs of this play—certainly one of the most difficult tasks that a translator can undertake—that Eggen has done his best work. There is more than a distant echo of the original in this happy translation of Bottom's song:
Han trostefar med svarte kropp
og nebb som appelsin,
og gjerdesmett med litin topp
og stare med tone fin.
Og finke, sporv og lerke graa
og gauk,—ho, ho![I.34] han lær,
so tidt han gjev sin næste smaa;
men aldri svar han fær.
The marvelous richness of the Norwegian dialects in the vocabulary of folklore is admirably brought out in the song with which the fairies sing Titania to sleep:[I.35]
Ein alv:
Spettut orm med tungur tvo,
kvass bust-igel, krjup kje her!
Øle, staal-orm, fara no,
kom vaar alvemor ei nær!
Alle alvene:
Maaltrost, syng med tone full
du med oss vaart bysselull:
bysse, bysse, bysselull,
ei maa vald,
ei heksegald
faa vaar dronning ottefull;
so god natt og bysselull.
Ein annan alv:
Ingi kongrov vil me sjaa,
langbeint vevekjering, gakk!
Svart tordivel, burt her fraa,
burt med snigil og med makk!
Alle alvene:
Maaltrost, syng med tone full
du med oss vaart bysselull:
bysse, bysse, bysselull,
bysse, bysse, bysselull,
ei maa vald,
ei heksegald
faa vaar dronning ottefull;
so god natt og bysselull.
It is easy to draw upon this fragment for further examples of felicitous translation. It is scarcely necessary, however. What has been given is sufficient to show the rare skill of the translator. He is so fortunate as to possess in a high degree what Bayard Taylor calls "secondary inspiration," without which the work of a translator becomes a soulless mass and frequently degenerates into the veriest drivel. Erik Eggen's Alveliv deserves a place in the same high company with Taylor's Faust.
Nine years later, in 1912, Eggen returned to the task he had left unfinished with the fairy scenes in Syn og Segn and gave a complete translation of A Midsummer Night's Dream. In a little prefatory note he acknowledges his indebtedness to Arne Garborg, who critically examined the manuscript and gave valuable suggestions and advice. The introduction itself is a restatement in two pages of the Shakespeare-Essex-Leicester-Elizabeth story. Shakespeare recalls the festivities as he saw them in youth when he writes in Act II, Sc. 2:
thou rememberest
Since once I sat upon a promontory,
And heard a mermaid upon a dolphin's back, etc.
And it is Elizabeth he has in mind when, in the same scene, we read:
That very time I saw, but thou could'st not,
Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
Cupid all armed, etc.
All of this is given by way of background, and it is of little importance to the general readers what modern Shakespeare scholars may say of it.
Eggen has not been content merely to reprint in the complete translation his earlier work from Syn og Segn, but he has made a thoroughgoing revision.[I.36] It cannot be said to be altogether happy. Frequently, of course, a line or phrase is improved or an awkward turn straightened out, but, as a whole, the first version surpasses the second not in poetic beauty merely, but in accuracy. Compare, for example, the two renderings of the opening lines:
| Syn og Segn—1903 | Revision of 1912 | |
| Nissen: Kor no ande! seg, kvar skal du av? | Tuften: Hallo! Kvar skal du av, du vesle vette? | |
|
Alven:
Yver dal, yver fjell, gjenom vatn, gjenom eld, yver gras, yver grind, gjenom klunger so stinn, yver alt eg smett og kliv snøggare enn maanen sviv; eg i gras dei ringar doggar, der vaar mori dans seg voggar. Hennar vakt mun symrur vera, gyllne klæde mun dei bera; sjaa dei stjernur alvar gav deim! Derfraa kjem all angen av deim. Aa sanke dogg—til de eg kom; ei perle fester eg til kvar ein blom. Far vel, du ande-styving! Eg maa vekk; vaar dronning er her ho paa fljugand' flekk. |
Alven:
Yver dal, yver fjell,
gjenom vatn, gjenom eld,
yver gras, yver grind,
gjenom klunger so stinn,
alle stad'r eg smett og kliv snøggare enn maanen sviv; eg dogge maa dei grøne straa som vaar dronning dansar paa. Kvart nykelband er adelsmann, med ordenar dei glime kann; kvar blank rubin, paa bringa skin, utsender ange fin. Doggdropar blanke skal eg sanke, mange, mange, dei skal hange kvar av hennar adels-mennar glimande i øyra. |
Now, admitting that
eg dogge maa
dei grøne straa
som vaar dronning dansar paa.
is a better translation than in the Syn og Segn text—which is doubtful enough—it is difficult to see what can be the excuse for such pompous banality as
Kvart nykelband
er adelsmann,
med ordenar dei glime kann;
the first version is not above reproach in this respect. It might fairly be asked: where does Eggen get his authority for
sjaa dei stjernur alvar gav deim!
But the lines are not loaded down with imagery which is both misleading and in bad taste. Eggen should have left his first version unchanged. Such uninspired prose as:
kvar blank rubin,
paa bringa skin,
utsender ange fin.
have to the ears of most Norwegians the atmosphere of the back stairs. Better the unadorned version of 1903.
In the passage following, Robin's reply, the revised version is probably better than the first, though there seems to be little to choose between them. But in the fairy's next speech the translator has gone quite beyond his legitimate province, and has improved Shakespeare by a picture from Norwegian folklore. Following the lines of the original:
Misleade nightwanderers, laughing at their harm,
Eggen has added this homelike conception in his translation:
som òg kann draga fôr til hest og naut,
naar berre du kvar torsdag fær din graut.
Shakespeare in Elysium must have regretted that he was not born in the mountains of Norway!
And when Robin, in the speech that follows, tells of his antics, one wonders just a little what has been gained by the revision. The same query is constantly suggested to anyone who compares the two texts.
Nor do I think that the lyrics have gained by the revision. Just a single comparison—the lullaby in the two versions. We have given it above as published in Syn og Segn. The following is its revised form:
Fyrste alven:
Spettut orm, bustyvel kvass,
eiter-ødle, sleve graa,
fare burt fraa denne plass,
so vaar dronning sova maa!
Alle:
Maaltrost, syng med oss i lund
dronningi i sælan blund:
Byssam, byssam barne,
gryta heng i jarne.
Troll og nykk,
gakk burt med dykk
denne sæle skymingsstund!
So god natt! Sov søtt i lund!
Andre alven:
Burt, tordivel, kom kje her!
Makk og snigill, burt dykk vinn!
Kongro, far ei onnor ferd,
langt ifraa oss din spune spinn!
Alle:
Maaltrost, syng med oss i lund, etc.
The first version is not only more literal but, so far as I can judge, superior in every way—in music and delicacy of phrase. And again, Eggen has taken it upon himself to patch up Shakespeare with homespun rags from his native Norwegian parish. It is difficult to say upon what grounds such tinkerings with the text as:
Byssam, byssam barne,
gryta, heng i jarne,
can be defended.
But we have already devoted too much space to this matter. Save for a few isolated lines, Eggen might very well have left these scenes as he gave them to us in 1903. We then ask, "What of the much greater part of the play now translated for the first time?" Well, no one will dispute the translator's triumph in this scene:[I.37]
Mønsaas: Er heile kompanie samla?
Varp: Det er best du ropar deim upp alle saman, mann for mann, etter lista.
Mønsaas: Her er ei liste yver namni paa alle deim som me i heile Atén finn mest høvelege til aa spela i millomstykke vaareses framfyre hertugen og frua hans paa brudlaupsdagen um kvelden.
Varp: Du Per Mønsaas, lyt fyrst segja kva stykke gjeng ut paa; les so upp namni paa spelarne, og so—til saki.
Mønsaas: Ja vel. Stykke heiter: "Det grøtelege gamanspele um Pyramus og Tisbi og deira syndlege daude."
Varp: Verkeleg eit godt stykke arbeid, skal eg segja dykk, og morsamt med. No, min gode Per Mønsaas, ropa upp spelarne etter lista. Godtfolk, spreid dykk.
Mønsaas: Svara ettersom eg ropar dykk upp.
Nils Varp, vevar?
Varp: Her! Seg kva for ein rolle eg skal hava, og haldt so fram.
Mønsaas: Du, Nils Varp, er skrivin for Pyramus.
Varp: Kva er Pyramus for slags kar? Ein elskar eller ein fark?
Mønsaas: Ein elskar som drep seg sjølv paa ægte riddarvis av kjærleik.
Varp: Det kjem til aa koste taarur um ein spelar det retteleg. Fær eg spela det, so lyt nok dei som ser paa, sjaa til kvar dei hev augo sine; eg skal grøte steinen, eg skal jamre so fælt so. For resten, mi gaave ligg best for ein berserk. Eg skulde spela herr Kules fraamifra—eller ein rolle, der eg kann klore og bite og slaa all ting i mòl og mas:
Og sprikk det fjell
med toresmell,
daa sunder fell
kvar port so sterk.
Stig Føbus fram
bak skyatram,
daa sprikk med skam
alt gygere-herk.
Det der laag no høgt det. Nemn so resten av spelarane.
Dette var rase til herr Kules, berserk-ras; ein elskar er meir klagande.
There can be no doubt about the genuineness of this. It catches the spirit of the original and communicates it irresistibly to the reader. When Bottom (Varp) says "Kva er Pyramus for slags kar?" or when he threatens, "Eg skal grøte steinen, eg skal jamre so fælt so," one who has something of Norwegian "Sprachgefühl" will exclaim that this is exactly what it should be. It is not the language of Norwegian artisans—they do not speak Landsmaal. But neither is the language of Shakespeare's craftsmen the genuine spoken language of Elizabethan craftsmen. The important thing is that the tone is right. And this feeling of a right tone is still further satisfied in the rehearsal scene (III, Sc. 1). Certain slight liberties do not diminish our pleasure. The reminiscence of Richard III in Bottom's, "A calendar, a calendar, looke in the Almanack, finde out moonshine," translated "Ei almanakke, ei almanakke, mit kongerike for ei almanakke," seems, however, a labored piece of business. One line, too, has been added to this speech which is a gratuitous invention of the translator, or rather, taken from the curious malaprop speech of the laboring classes; "Det er rett, Per Mønsaas; sjaa millom aspektarane!" There can be no objection to an interpolation like this if the translation does not aim to be scholarly and definitive, but merely an effort to bring a foreign classic home to the masses. And this is, obviously, Eggen's purpose. Personally I do not think, therefore, that there is any objection to a slight freedom like this. But it has no place at all in the fairies' lullaby.
When we move to the circle of the high-place lovers or the court, I cannot feel that the Landsmaal is quite so convincing. There is something appallingly clumsy, labored, hard, in this speech of Hermia's:
Min eigin gut,
eg sver ved beste bogen Amor hev,
ved beste pili hans, med odd av gull,
ved duvune, dei reine og dei kvite
som flyg paa tun hjaa fagre Afrodite,
ved det som knyter mannehjarto saman,
ved det som føder kjærlerks fryd og gaman,
ved baale, der seg dronning Dido brende,
daa seg Æneas trulaus fraa ho vende,
ved kvar den eid som falske menn hev svori—
langt fleir enn kvinnelippur fram hev bori,
at paa den staden du hev nemnt for meg,
der skal i morgo natt eg møte deg.
In spite of the translator's obvious effort to put fire into the passage, his failure is all too evident. Even the ornament of these lines—to which there is nothing to correspond in the original—only makes the poetry more forcibly feeble:
ved duvune, dei reine og dei kvite
som flyg paa tun hjaa fagre Afrodite,
Shakespeare says quite simply:
By the simplicity of Venus Doves,
and to anyone but a Landsmaal fanatic it seems ridiculous to have Theseus tell Hermia: "Demetrius er so gild ein kar som nokon." "Demetrius is a worthy gentleman," says Shakespeare and this has "the grand Manner." But to a cultivated Norwegian the translation is "Bauernsprache," such as a local magnate might use in forcing a suitor on his daughter.
All of which goes back to the present condition of Landsmaal. It has little flexibility, little inward grace. It is not a finished literary language. But, despite its archaisms, Landsmaal is a living language and it has, therefore, unlike the Karathevusa of Greece, the possibility of growth. The translations of Madhus and Aasen and Eggen have made notable contributions to this development. They are worthy of all praise. Their weaknesses are the result of conditions which time will change.