such small pains to conceal. For this better understanding we are indebted to no one more than to the talented lady who, under the pseudonym of Théo. Bentzon, contributes an occasional appreciative review to the pages of the Revue des Deux Mondes.
I should have been glad could I have afforded those who are so kind as to read my translation a better version of the great originals, but it is my experience that any attempt to use "fine language" is only too apt to result in a perversion of the sense. A translation should follow its original as closely as may be without degenerating into servility: otherwise it ceases to be a translation and becomes an adaptation. There is a quotation that we often hear used: "O Liberty, what sins are committed in thy name!" Mme. Roland did not say that in her apostrophe; she said: O liberté, comme on t'a jouée! "O Liberty, how men have cheated thee!" Doubtless the version that is more familiar to our ears rolls from off the tongue more glibly, but it is not the same. C’est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre. The old simile occurs to me of decanting champagne, but it is trite; the only resource that I know of that will enable the reader to enjoy the style and sense of any foreign author is to get down his grammar and dictionary and master the language.
