When you read a work in translation, are you reading the same work that the author originally composed? As technology becomes more advanced and complex tasks become simplified, the investment of years of study for facility in an ancient language may appear to be a needless redundancy. Would it not be more efficient to let software translate for us so that we can use all of that time we would have been studying for other purposes? If all one is after is translation, then this is a strong argument in favor of the obsolescence of learning classical languages. But if it is impossible to engage with a classical text in this way, then there is still a purpose to go ad fontes. A translation is not identical to its original text. When I read City of God it is not exactly the same as Civitate Dei. They are, in fact, two different works! One is the work of Augustine of Hippo, and the other is the work of the translator, Henry Bettenson. One is an English tome and the other twenty-two Latin libri.
But cannot meaning be translated? No doubt; but if one compares translations it becomes apparent that different renderings of the text are possible and each rendering gives a different nuance to how the meaning of the translated passage is understood. Language is the form whereby meaning is made discernible and conferrable between persons. Meaning is not confined to any one language (otherwise translation would be impossible) and thus is some reality prior to language. The same meaning can be rendered in different languages, with words being formed differently and placed in different syntactical positions. But, while the meaning communicated in language is important, this should not entail the neglect of the means. If meaning is taken as the substance of language, the accidents of particular languages–whereby meaning is known–are not rendered negligible.
Among mankind there is a shared substance , yet we do not on this account treat the particularities of humanity—different ethnicities and cultures—as though they had no value. Similarly, light passes through stained glass; the same light passes through each pane, but the color that is seen is different. If mankind or light are taken to represent meaning, we yet see in these examples the importance of the ‘accidents’ by which it is made perceptible. Meaning is not neatly separable from the means of its communication. Two persons could have the same message to tell us, yet insofar as they are two distinct individuals the message will be communicated to us differently and the message itself will acquire the quality of the messenger.
What are translators doing when they translate? They are communicating to us as much as possible the ‘content’ of the original text in another language. In effect, they are doing the difficult work of engaging with the text for us, with the readers of translations engaging with the meaning secondarily. The translator is reading the original and then trying to say the same in another language, as much as that other language allows. Languages are contextual and the contexts between two languages always differ, especially if they are separated by many years. But this is precisely the usefulness of reading antique works – it is the only way available forus to interact with the great minds of the past, whose genius occurred in their particular context.
Books are, as much as they can be, an author’s sharing of themself; they are the author communicating with us. But when translation occurs, there is an intermediary. When translation occurs, the author is first communicating with someone else and then that second individual mediates for us, based on their interpretation of what the original author meant. If you want to have a conversation with Augustine you must do so in a language that you both understand; it is impossible for Augustine to learn English, but we can learn Latin and thus engage in conversation directly with him.
