Translation is a complex process, involving linguistic, cultural and personal factors. The translation of a literary text is the most complicated of the types of written translation. Among the difficulties of the literary translation one can state such as: abundance of expressive means and concepts, high emotional load, usage of obsolete expressions and archaisms, a large number of stylistic devices. The list of difficulties the translator of literary texts has to face with is evidently too large. Here you have no place for word-for-word translation, here you should have enough imagination and creativity to render the complete sense, colors, emotions and the effects of a literary text making it at the same time clear and readable for a particular speaker.
The following text is a short story by Anton Chekhov “Дочь Альбиона” published in юмористический журнал «Осколки», 1883, № 33, 13 августа (ценз. разр. 12 августа), стр. 4—5. Подпись: А. Чехонте. Источник: https://feb-web.ru/feb/chekhov/texts/sp0/sp2/sp2-195-.htm (Приводится по: А.П. Чехов Сочинения в 18 томах // Полное собрание сочинений и писем в 30 томах. — М.: Наука, 1975. — Т. 2. [Рассказы. Юморески], 1883—1884. — С. 195—198.
The corresponding passage “A Daughter of Albion” is translated by Constance Garnett, an English translator who made the great works of Russian literature available to English and American readers in the first half of the 20th century. Taken from https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/c/chekhov/anton/love/chapter13.html.
Task 1. Read the original carefully and then compare it with the corresponding translation. Are there any fundamental differences in the text presented?
| ДОЧЬ АЛЬБИОНА К дому помещика Грябова подкатила прекрасная коляска с каучуковыми шинами, толстым кучером и бархатным сиденьем. Из коляски выскочил уездный предводитель дворянства Федор Андреич Отцов. В передней встретил его сонный лакей. — Господа дома? — спросил предводитель. — Никак нет-с. Барыня с детями в гости поехали, а барин с мамзелью-гувернанткой рыбу ловят-с. С самого утра-с. Отцов постоял, подумал и пошел к реке искать Грябова. Нашел он его версты за две от дома, подойдя к реке. Поглядев вниз с крутого берега и увидев Грябова, Отцов прыснул... Грябов, большой, толстый человек с очень большой головой, сидел на песочке, поджав под себя по-турецки ноги, и удил. Шляпа у него была на затылке, галстук сполз набок. Возле него стояла высокая, тонкая англичанка с выпуклыми рачьими глазами и большим птичьим носом, похожим скорей на крючок, чем на нос. Одета она была в белое кисейное платье, сквозь которое сильно просвечивали тощие, желтые плечи. На золотом поясе висели золотые часики. Она тоже удила. Вокруг обоих царила гробовая тишина. Оба были неподвижны, как река, на которой плавали их поплавки. — Охота смертная, да участь горькая! — засмеялся Отцов. — Здравствуй, Иван Кузьмич! — А... это ты? — спросил Грябов, не отрывая глаз от воды. — Приехал? — Как видишь... А ты всё еще своей ерундой занимаешься! Не отвык еще? — Кой чёрт... Весь день ловлю, с утра... Плохо что-то сегодня ловится. Ничего не поймал ни я, ни эта кикимора. Сидим, сидим и хоть бы один чёрт! Просто хоть караул кричи. — А ты наплюй. Пойдем водку пить! — Постой... Может быть, что-нибудь да поймаем. Под вечер рыба клюет лучше... Сижу, брат, здесь с самого утра! Такая скучища, что и выразить тебе не могу. Дернул же меня чёрт привыкнуть к этой ловле! Знаю, что чепуха, а сижу! Сижу, как подлец какой-нибудь, как каторжный, и на воду гляжу, как дурак какой-нибудь! На покос надо ехать, а я рыбу ловлю. Вчера в Хапоньеве преосвященный служил, а я не поехал, здесь просидел вот с этой стерлядью... с чертовкой с этой... — Но... ты с ума сошел? — спросил Отцов, конфузливо косясь на англичанку. — Бранишься при даме... и ее же… — Да чёрт с ней! Всё одно, ни бельмеса по-русски не смыслит. Ты ее хоть хвали, хоть брани — ей всё равно! Ты на нос посмотри! От одного носа в обморок упадешь! Сидим по целым дням вместе, и хоть бы одно слово! Стоит, как чучело, и бельмы на воду таращит. Англичанка зевнула, переменила червячка и закинула удочку. — Удивляюсь, брат, я немало! — продолжал Грябов, — Живет дурища в России десять лет, и хоть бы одно слово по-русски!.. Наш какой-нибудь аристократишка поедет к ним и живо по-ихнему брехать научится, а они... чёрт их знает! Ты посмотри на нос! На нос ты посмотри! — Ну, перестань... Неловко... Что напал на женщину? — Она не женщина, а девица... О женихах, небось, мечтает, чёртова кукла. И пахнет от нее какою-то гнилью... Возненавидел, брат, ее! Видеть равнодушно не могу! Как взглянет на меня своими глазищами, так меня и покоробит всего, словно я локтем о перила ударился. Тоже любит рыбу ловить. Погляди: ловит и священнодействует! С презрением на всё смотрит... Стоит, каналья, и сознает, что она человек и что, стало быть, она царь природы. А знаешь, как ее зовут? Уилька Чарльзовна Тфайс! Тьфу!.. и не выговоришь! Англичанка, услышав свое имя, медленно повела нос в сторону Грябова и измерила его презрительным взглядом. С Грябова подняла она глаза на Отцова и его облила презрением. И всё это молча, важно и медленно. — Видал? — спросил Грябов, хохоча. — Нате, мол, вам! Ах ты, кикимора! Для детей только и держу этого тритона. Не будь детей, я бы ее и за десять верст к своему имению не подпустил... Нос точно у ястреба... А талия? Эта кукла напоминает мне длинный гвоздь. Так, знаешь, взял бы и в землю вбил. Постой... У меня, кажется, клюет... Грябов вскочил и поднял удилище. Леска натянулась... Грябов дернул еще раз и не вытащил крючка. — Зацепилась! — сказал он и поморщился. — За камень, должно быть... Чёрт возьми... На лице у Грябова выразилось страдание. Вздыхая, беспокойно двигаясь и бормоча проклятья, он начал дергать за лесу. Дерганье ни к чему не привело. Грябов побледнел. — Экая жалость! В воду лезть надо. — Да ты брось! — Нельзя... Под вечер хорошо ловится... Ведь этакая комиссия, прости господи! Придется лезть в воду. Придется! А если бы ты знал, как мне не хочется раздеваться! Англичанку-то турнуть надо... При ней неловко раздеваться. Все-таки ведь дама! Грябов сбросил шляпу и галстук. — Мисс... эээ... — обратился он к англичанке. — Мисс Тфайс! Же ву при1... Ну, как ей сказать? Ну, как тебе сказать, чтобы ты поняла? Послушайте... туда! Туда уходите! Слышишь? Мисс Тфайс облила Грябова презрением и издала носовой звук. — Что-с? Не понимаете? Ступай, тебе говорят, отсюда! Мне раздеваться нужно, чёртова кукла! Туда ступай! Туда! Грябов дернул мисс за рукав, указал ей на кусты и присел: ступай, мол, за кусты и спрячься там... Англичанка, энергически двигая бровями, быстро проговорила длинную английскую фразу. Помещики прыснули. — Первый раз в жизни ее голос слышу... Нечего сказать, голосок! Не понимает! Ну, что мне делать с ней? — Плюнь! Пойдем водки выпьем! — Нельзя, теперь ловиться должно... Вечер... Ну, что ты прикажешь делать? Вот комиссия! Придется при ней раздеваться... Грябов сбросил сюртук и жилет и сел на песок снимать сапоги. — Послушай, Иван Кузьмич, — сказал предводитель, хохоча в кулак. — Это уж, друг мой, глумление, издевательство. — Ее никто не просит не понимать! Это наука им, иностранцам! Грябов снял сапоги, панталоны, сбросил с себя белье и очутился в костюме Адама. Отцов ухватился за живот. Он покраснел и от смеха и от конфуза. Англичанка задвигала бровями и замигала глазами... По желтому лицу ее пробежала надменная, презрительная улыбка. — Надо остынуть, — сказал Грябов, хлопая себя по бедрам. — Скажи на милость, Федор Андреич, отчего это у меня каждое лето сыпь на груди бывает? — Да полезай скорей в воду или прикройся чем-нибудь! Скотина! — И хоть бы сконфузилась, подлая! — сказал Грябов, полезая в воду и крестясь. — Брр... холодная вода... Посмотри, как бровями двигает! Не уходит... Выше толпы стоит! Хе-хе-хе... И за людей нас не считает! Войдя по колена в воду и вытянувшись во весь свой громадный рост, он мигнул глазом и сказал: — Это, брат, ей не Англия! Мисс Тфайс хладнокровно переменила червячка, зевнула и закинула удочку. Отцов отвернулся. Грябов отцепил крючок, окунулся и с сопеньем вылез из воды. Через две минуты он сидел уже на песочке и опять удил рыбу | A Daughter of Albion A FINE carriage with rubber tyres, a fat coachman, and velvet on the seats, rolled up to the house of a landowner called Gryabov. Fyodor Andreitch Otsov, the district Marshal of Nobility, jumped out of the carriage. A drowsy footman met him in the hall. “Are the family at home?” asked the Marshal. “No, sir. The mistress and the children are gone out paying visits, while the master and mademoiselle are catching fish. Fishing all the morning, sir.” Otsov stood a little, thought a little, and then went to the river to look for Gryabov. Going down to the river he found him a mile and a half from the house. Looking down from the steep bank and catching sight of Gryabov, Otsov gushed with laughter.... Gryabov, a large stout man, with a very big head, was sitting on the sand, angling, with his legs tucked under him like a Turk. His hat was on the back of his head and his cravat had slipped on one side. Beside him stood a tall thin Englishwoman, with prominent eyes like a crab’s, and a big bird-like nose more like a hook than a nose. She was dressed in a white muslin gown through which her scraggy yellow shoulders were very distinctly apparent. On her gold belt hung a little gold watch. She too was angling. The stillness of the grave reigned about them both. Both were motionless, as the river upon which their floats were swimming. “A desperate passion, but deadly dull!” laughed Otsov. “Good-day, Ivan Kuzmitch.” “Ah... is that you?” asked Gryabov, not taking his eyes off the water. “Have you come?” “As you see.... And you are still taken up with your crazy nonsense! Not given it up yet?” “The devil’s in it.... I begin in the morning and fish all day.... The fishing is not up to much today. I’ve caught nothing and this dummy hasn’t either. We sit on and on and not a devil of a fish! I could scream!” “Well, chuck it up then. Let’s go and have some vodka!” “Wait a little, maybe we shall catch something. Towards evening the fish bite better.... I’ve been sitting here, my boy, ever since the morning! I can’t tell you how fearfully boring it is. It was the devil drove me to take to this fishing! I know that it is rotten idiocy for me to sit here. I sit here like some scoundrel, like a convict, and I stare at the water like a fool. I ought to go to the haymaking, but here I sit catching fish. Yesterday His Holiness held a service at Haponyevo, but I didn’t go. I spent the day here with this... with this she-devil.” “But... have you taken leave of your senses?” asked Otsov, glancing in embarrassment at the Englishwoman. “Using such language before a lady and she....” “Oh, confound her, it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t understand a syllable of Russian, whether you praise her or blame her, it is all the same to her! Just look at her nose! Her nose alone is enough to make one faint. We sit here for whole days together and not a single word! She stands like a stuffed image and rolls the whites of her eyes at the water.” The Englishwoman gave a yawn, put a new worm on, and dropped the hook into the water. “I wonder at her not a little,” Gryabov went on, “the great stupid has been living in Russia for ten years and not a word of Russian!... Any little aristocrat among us goes to them and learns to babble away in their lingo, while they... there’s no making them out. Just look at her nose, do look at her nose!” “Come, drop it... it’s uncomfortable. Why attack a woman?” “She’s not a woman, but a maiden lady.... I bet she’s dreaming of suitors. The ugly doll. And she smells of something decaying.... I’ve got a loathing for her, my boy! I can’t look at her with indifference. When she turns her ugly eyes on me it sends a twinge all through me as though I had knocked my elbow on the parapet. She likes fishing too. Watch her: she fishes as though it were a holy rite! She looks upon everything with disdain.... She stands there, the wretch, and is conscious that she is a human being, and that therefore she is the monarch of nature. And do you know what her name is? Wilka Charlesovna Fyce! Tfoo! There is no getting it out!” The Englishwoman, hearing her name, deliberately turned her nose in Gryabov’s direction and scanned him with a disdainful glance; she raised her eyes from Gryabov to Otsov and steeped him in disdain. And all this in silence, with dignity and deliberation. “Did you see?” said Gryabov chuckling. “As though to say ‘take that.’ Ah, you monster! It’s only for the children’s sake that I keep that triton. If it weren’t for the children, I wouldn’t let her come within ten miles of my estate.... She has got a nose like a hawk’s... and her figure! That doll makes me think of a long nail, so I could take her, and knock her into the ground, you know. Stay, I believe I have got a bite....” Gryabov jumped up and raised his rod. The line drew taut.... Gryabov tugged again, but could not pull out the hook. “It has caught,” he said, frowning, “on a stone I expect... damnation take it....” There was a look of distress on Gryabov’s face. Sighing, moving uneasily, and muttering oaths, he began tugging at the line. “What a pity; I shall have to go into the water.” “Oh, chuck it!” “I can’t.... There’s always good fishing in the evening.... What a nuisance. Lord, forgive us, I shall have to wade into the water, I must! And if only you knew, I have no inclination to undress. I shall have to get rid of the Englishwoman.... It’s awkward to undress before her. After all, she is a lady, you know!” Gryabov flung off his hat, and his cravat. “Meess... er, er...” he said, addressing the Englishwoman, “Meess Fyce, je voo pree...? Well, what am I to say to her? How am I to tell you so that you can understand? I say... over there! Go away over there! Do you hear?” Miss Fyce enveloped Gryabov in disdain, and uttered a nasal sound. “What? Don’t you understand? Go away from here, I tell you! I must undress, you devil’s doll! Go over there! Over there!” Gryabov pulled the lady by her sleeve, pointed her towards the bushes, and made as though he would sit down, as much as to say: Go behind the bushes and hide yourself there.... The Englishwoman, moving her eyebrows vigorously, uttered rapidly a long sentence in English. The gentlemen gushed with laughter. “It’s the first time in my life I’ve heard her voice. There’s no denying, it is a voice! She does not understand! Well, what am I to do with her?” “Chuck it, let’s go and have a drink of vodka!” “I can’t. Now’s the time to fish, the evening.... It’s evening.... Come, what would you have me do? It is a nuisance! I shall have to undress before her....” Gryabov flung off his coat and his waistcoat and sat on the sand to take off his boots. “I say, Ivan Kuzmitch,” said the marshal, chuckling behind his hand. “It’s really outrageous, an insult.” “Nobody asks her not to understand! It’s a lesson for these foreigners!” Gryabov took off his boots and his trousers, flung off his undergarments and remained in the costume of Adam. Otsov held his sides, he turned crimson both from laughter and embarrassment. The Englishwoman twitched her brows and blinked.... A haughty, disdainful smile passed over her yellow face. “I must cool off,” said Gryabov, slapping himself on the ribs. “Tell me if you please, Fyodor Andreitch, why I have a rash on my chest every summer.” “Oh, do get into the water quickly or cover yourself with something, you beast.” “And if only she were confused, the nasty thing,” said Gryabov, crossing himself as he waded into the water. “Brrrr... the water’s cold.... Look how she moves her eyebrows! She doesn’t go away... she is far above the crowd! He, he, he.... and she doesn’t reckon us as human beings.” Wading knee deep in the water and drawing his huge figure up to its full height, he gave a wink and said: “This isn’t England, you see!” Miss Fyce coolly put on another worm, gave a yawn, and dropped the hook in. Otsov turned away, Gryabov released his hook, ducked into the water and, spluttering, waded out. Two minutes later he was sitting on the sand and angling as before. |
Task 2. Identify the levels of freedom manifested in the text translated by Constance Garnett. How would you characterize the product given in the translated text?
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Task 3. Retell the text in English and describe the main characters. What does each character represent? What is the irony about? Are there any transformations observed in the heroes’ characters in Constance Garnett’s translation of Anton Chekhov’s short story?
Task 4. This story is quite significant from a cultural point of view. It represents stereotyping. From a Russian point of view, Britain can be seen as the ultimate "other". The Russian nobility travelled to France and spoke French, but Britain was talked about much more than it was known and understood. While German universities were the almae matres for many members of the Russian intelligentsia, it was Britain which held a special position in the Russian imagination. In social discourse, Britain was least incorporated into the Russian concept of 'ours'. Focus on the correlation of universal and national components in the literary work and explain with examples how the translator managed or failed to demonstrate the correlation.
Task 5. In Chekhov’s literary works,nationality is often of secondary importance in the representation of foreign (Western European) governesses and tutors. Their literary portrayal is more concerned with their being from the West in general and with their inferiority in social status, physical appearance and language ability. Prove it with the descriptions given in the original and discuss if Constance Garnett followed the same goal in the translation.
Task 6. One of the main characteristics of Chekhov’s short stories is the extensive usage of emotionally expressive and connotative words, which presents some difficulties for the translation into another language. See how the translator managed to solve the problem by analyzing emotional words and expressions used in the translation.
Task 7. Explain the changes in meaning, style, grammar, and lexicon from the original to translation. Identify specific types of loss in each of these categories. For example,describing the Englishwoman, Gryabov uses words with suffixes “дурища”, “глазищи”, “голосок” and others. What level of negativity is carried by the words used in the translation? In the original the woman is called “кикимора” by the landowner. What words are used in the translation and why?
Task 8. The significant occurrence of a range of proverbs, sayings, idioms and set expressions will consistently present challenges for the translator. Did the translator identify the presence of set expressions in the original? Find any 5 set expressions in the original and analyze the decisions made by the translator.
Task 9. Nuances of Chekhov’s comical characters are in many ways based on the conflict between different cultural layers and language styles. Difficulties of translation and national cultural differences weaken the figurative and metaphorical components while strengthening the rational component. Explain with examples how the translator managed or failed to show the conflict between cultural layers, language styles and education levels in the translation.
Task 10. Discuss literary translation as artistic creativity on the examples of English translation of Anton Chekhov’s short story “Дочь Альбиона”. Analyze suggested solutions to justify Constance Garnett’s transformations and deformations of Chekhov’s text. Propose alternative translations for at least three passages from the original.