Preserving through Translation
The title Translations suggests the plurality of any single translation. A translation is an expression of knowledge into another language, or a conversion of conditions which renders an original into a new form. However, these definitions are not necessarily independent of one another. When standardizing the Gaelic names for landmarks, Owen and Lieutenant Yolland first consider the literal translations of the local names into English. Such that, the river called “Bun na hAbhann” literally translates into “bottom of the river’ (Friel 35). However, when still in Gaelic, the place is understood to be the mouth of the river where a little beach exists, not the riverbed like the English literal translation suggests. With the Ordinance of 1833, the conflict becomes how does a community preserve cultural ideas when translating the culture from Gaelic to English. Each time something doesn’t translate literally across languages, the community loses part of its cultural knowledge. In his work Translations, Brian Friel employs community melodrama to comment that language cannot preserve cultural knowledge.
To begin, language is not knowledge. Language is the communication of knowledge by assigning a definition to one’s thought in order to transfer this knowledge among individuals (Robins). In Act I, the play opens with Manus— the school master’s compassionate, eldest son— teaching Sarah— a local woman characterized by a speech defect so disabling that even she has accepted that she is “considered locally to be dumb”— to introduce herself (Friel 11). Because she is “considered” suggests the perception of her mental capacity, but does not confirm the accuracy in the local belief. The local characterization of Sarah as “dumb” reflects her inability to communicate her knowledge through language and implies that she simply cannot learn and therefore, does not know. However, to form language is not knowledge, such that Sarah knows how the town perceives her, although she herself cannot assign the language to express how this perception affects her. In response to this perception, when she wants to communicate, “she grunts and makes unintelligible nasal sounds” without any effort to form a coherent string of words (Friel 11). It is inexplicit and therefore ambivalent if her absence of language is a product of incapacity or a manifestation of lifelong frustration toward her environment.
When Manus attempts to teach Sarah, he is not condescending or belittling. He does not call her dumb, or point out that her abilities should be further by this age. Instead, he repeats the sounds slowly to her: “My name is Sarah” (Friel 12). He shows patience as she formulates the sounds back. Even if Sarah is actually dumb, she still has a compilation of personal knowledge, including presumably her own name. Manus' lesson is in mimicry and confidence to attempt to communicate coherently. It is not an introduction to new information. Manus aids Sarah to gain the means to communicate using the local language which allows her to formulate words to her knowledge— such as her name— and communicate this knowledge to others. As such, in the end of the act, when Owen— Manus’ younger brother— introduces himself to Sarah for the first time, she does not hesitate to reply, telling Owen: “My name is Sarah Johnny Sally” (Friel 28). Her sentence is longer than that practiced with Manus and offers knowledge beyond what Manus has approached in his lesson. With her response, Sarah confirms her knowledge base, despite her the failures in language skills to communicate such knowledge with others. With a coherent and common form of communication, Sarah is able to pass her knowledge— even if it is limited— to her recipient.
Yet, a common language between individuals offers a means to communicate their knowledge, but does not ensure either individual will transfer knowledge between individuals. In the hedge-school, Hugh— the schoolmaster— teaches his students the classical and local language skills necessary to transfer knowledge within the local community. Students who have acquired the language skills taught are able to converse with others who share these skills. For example, Manus can converse with Hugh because they are both fluent in Gaelic, but Sarah— although she is surrounded by Gaelic and understands the language when spoken to her— cannot freely converse in the same way because of her speech impertinent limits her ability to communicate. However, the character’s competence in assigning the language to ideas is not necessarily equivalent to transferring their knowledge. For example, Doalty— characterized as a “slightly thick young man” who studies under Hugh— freely converses the community’s gossip with his fellow students in order to suggest his intelligence, although he himself is “daft” (Friel 17). Doalty’s characterization as “thick” suggests his capacity for accepting new knowledge is limited, while his willingness to transfer knowledge is not. When Doalty enters the barn, he imparts an illusion of self-proclaimed intelligence through language. He tells his schoolmates that whenever a local couple would set up a pole to mark where the land they needed to work, he would “creep up and shift it twenty or thirty paces to the side” (Friel 16). He demonstrates a wide understanding of his mode of storytelling as he times and animates his delivery for comedic effect. He does not describe the couple’s reaction. In a tone of absoluteness, he suggests his credibility. However, his demand to drive the conversation and his arrogant manner— a consequence of the illusion of his higher intelligence— hints at his masqueraded ignorance. Instead, he pauses, then imitates “two very agitated and confused sappers in rapid conversation” (Friel 18). The decision to gesture the ending, rather than to continue telling the story is much like Sarah’s expression through unintelligible sounds. However, because Doalty begins by expressing his ideas with words, the gestures are comprehensible, but not intelligent. Perhaps he changes his mode of transferring information to increase his audience’s bodily reactions. Regardless, the change from verbal to physical communication loses definition of Doalty’s knowledge while still expressing a gesture of his knowledge.
However, without any common language to define and communicate knowledge, the knowledge is lost and incapable of being transferred forward. When languages decline in popularity, the knowledge it holds must be translated across languages in order to out-survive its mother language. Anything which is forgotten in the translation process is lost when the mother language disappears from everyday use. In Act II, scene one, Owen questions whether they should protect a name with community significance that happened “a hundred-and-fifty years ago” if even the Gaelic community which named it has forgotten the history (Friel 44). He dares Yolland to “ask Doalty— or Maire— or Bridget— even [his] father— even Manus why its called Tobair Vree” (Friel 44). His tone is frustrated. He implies that all these individuals within the community already lack the historical knowledge of the name, despite knowing the language which holds this knowledge. His polysyndeton structure, further separated by em dashes before the conjunctions, exaggerates the futility in Yolland’s sentimentality. When reflecting that the history has already eroded and cannot be saved, Owen retells the story to Yolland as “[his] grandfather told it to [him]” of the landmark’s name (Friel 44). Regardless, Yolland insists they preserve the knowledge of the community’s history. He observes that Owen’s frustration is ironic. The act of retelling the story demonstrates that even if gradually destroyed, the history remains in some form, even if Owen is correct that only he remembers the history behind the name. When the language is standardized, when future generations no longer learn the Gaelic language, there will be no suggestion of the history the name preserves if the landmark’s name changes. Yolland insists his certainty that he wants the name to remain unchanged, reflecting his fear of losing a history that isn’t his. If the two men are to deny names with community significance from being translated onto the future standardized map, they are then responsible for the lost knowledge. As such, Yolland’s insistence recognizes that to translate without regard to local historical knowledge is to fail the culture.
Even when the knowledge is transferred through translation, the translations are rarely a literal and exact translation of the original meaning. They are the reinterpretations of their predecessors, and often lose or gain information. However, through translation, these reinterpretations can be shared among a larger audience. In Act III, Hugh— while characterized as “wet and drunk”— attempts to recite lines from the first book of Virgil’s the Aeneid inside the school as it rains outside (Friel 64). By characterizing Hugh as not just drunk, but wet without specifying if he is wet with sweat, rain, or liquor suggests the incapacitating nature of his current state. He is not in control of his mind or body. Even the knowledge and ideas which he claims, “sure I know it backways,” must be defined using language before transferred to another individual (Friel 68). In his classical training and position of the schoolmaster, he undoubtedly knows the entirety of the Virgil in both original Latin and colloquial translation. When he attempts to recite the lines, he begins in Latin. He recites, “urbs antiqua fuit”— translated literally in English to “there was an ancient city”— but then continues in a colloquial and loose translation (Friel 68). He appears to be unaware that in his intoxicated state he switches between the original text and translation. Hugh’s translation into colloquial language employs contractions, aposiopesis, and ellipsis. This adaption does not reflect exactly the original text but reinterprets the work to language accessible to his audience, including Maire, Jimmy, and Owen. However, in the middle of the excerpt, Hugh forgets the text both in Latin and in translation, repeating “such was the course” until he decides to start over (Friel 68). Hugh’s response stems from frustration that the idea cannot be defined, despite his certainty that he knows the work. On his second time through, his recitation is exactly as it was previously— the same colloquial contractions and aposiopesis employed— but the play ends in an ellipsis just where his memory began to fail him on his first attempt (Friel 68). The ending is ambiguous for whether Hugh could translate further, or whether, in his drunken state, the knowledge is temporarily lost.
Unlike Hugh’s intoxicated account, when an entire culture undergoes a language translation, some of the cultural knowledge is irreversibly lost. When a translation fails to assign a new language to ideas, the knowledge these ideas stem from consequently fails to be transferred. Only the ideas which community members dedicate attention to translating are eligible for long-term preservation. Each individual attempts to preserve the knowledge they personally find significant. However, even these ideas are not guaranteed to be transferred forward; they just obtain better odds to be defined. The remaining ideas, which according to individuals, are decidedly less significant, cannot be transferred forward unless redefined first. If the community is not careful, these ideas may be neglected in the cultural translation and, therefore, lost when the mother language dies. To lose these ideas to negligence, especially in favor of personal melodramas like the play focuses on, fails the community. A community must offer attention to configuring the ideas which best represent their cultural knowledge to be transferred, even if these do not align with what individuals find personally significant. Ultimately, it is the communal response which preserves cultural knowledge. Any set of ideas can be translated. However, it is selecting which should be prioritized, redefined, then made certain that it is transferred to several individuals which best preserves this knowledge. Language is ultimately a vehicle of preservation. Without the community prioritizing which ideas should be redefined and transferred forward, a language in any capacity fails to preserve this knowledge indefinitely.
Works Cited
Friel, Brian. Translations. Faber and Faber, 1981.
Robins, Robert Henry, and David Crystal. “Language.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia
Britannica, IInc., 5 Jan. 2018, www.britannica.com/topic/language
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