TRANSLATOR STUDIES': LIANG SHIQIU'S DISCOURSE ON TRANSLATION

Across Languages and Cultures 12 (1), pp. 71–94 (2011) DOI: 10.1556/Acr.12.2011.1.4

1585-1923/$ 20.00 © 2011 Akadémiai Kiadó, Budapest

‘TRANSLATOR STUDIES’: LIANG SHIQIU’S

DISCOURSE ON TRANSLATION

LIPING BAI

College of Professional and Continuing Education The Hong Kong Polytechnic University

E-mail: [email protected]

Abstract: Liang Shiqiu is a prominent translator in 20th century China. This article offers an analysis of his direct and indirect discourse on translation. It demonstrates that Liang’s discourse on translation, including attitudes to and functions of translation, faithfulness and appropriate degree of literalism, is in line with his discourse on literature, culture and some traditional Confucian ideas like ‘cheng’, ‘li’ and ‘zhongyong’. It is fascinating to discover that Liang’s attitude toward the value of traditional Chinese thinking, particularly Confucianism, at a time when it was strongly denounced during the New Culture Movement, was greatly influenced by Irving Babbitt, his teacher at Harvard.

Keywords: translator, discourse, translation, tradition, Liang Shiqiu

One is tempted to say, indeed, that, if there is such a thing as the wisdom of the ages, a central core of normal human experience, this wisdom is, on the religious level, found in Buddha and Christ and, on the humanistic level, in Confucius and Aristotle. (Babbitt 1924/1987:188–189)

1. INTRODUCTION AND RESEARCH FRAMEWORK

1.1. A Framework for ‘Translator Studies’

A translator is an author of a translation; translation studies is, to some extent, ‘translator studies’. The study of a translator is, to a great extent, a study of his/her discourse on translation. The term ‘discourse’, which is from the Latin word discursus meaning moving from one place to the other, generally refers to “a continuous stretch of language containing more than one sentence” (Blackburn 2008). It has been defined, interpreted and applied in various disciplines in the humanities and social sciences.1 In Cheung’s An Anthology of

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Chinese Discourse on Translation, she uses the term ‘discourse’ – both in its ordinary and its post-structuralist meaning found especially in Foucault’s writings – deliberately to underscore the ideological aspect of anthology compilation (Cheung 2006:1). The discourse on translation includes “direct discourse on translation” and “indirect discourse on translation” (ibid.: 15). The former includes “inward-looking” texts focusing “translation itself” and “outward-looking” texts about “the relation between translation and outside factors” (ibid.). Indirect discourse on translation includes “an explicit mode and a subterranean mode” (ibid.). In Cheung’s Anthology, the explicit mode refers to texts related to “topics about translation, such as for example the administrative titles of translating”, while the subterranean mode comprises of “texts that formed the foundation of the Chinese cultural and intellectual tradition which shaped the thinking of writers and intellectuals alike” (ibid.). Cheung’s study mainly involves the latter type, i.e. the type of discourse which forms the foundation of the thinking of a translator. Inspired by Cheung’s figure of ‘Modes of discourse on translation’ (ibid.), the present author suggests that a translator’s discourse on translation could be investigated through the following framework (Figure 1):

Figure 1

A framework for the Study of Translator’s Discourse on Translation

The study includes an investigation of both the translator’s direct – comprising the inward-looking and outward-looking – and indirect discourse on translation. The indirect discourse on translation, e.g. the translator’s views on literature and culture, is the foundation of his/her direct discourse on translation,

Discourse Influencing Translator’s Discourse

Translator’s Indirect Discourse on Translation

Translator’s Direct Discourse on Translation

(Inward-looking) (Outward-looking)

Translator’s Translation

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and may help us get a deeper and more comprehensive understanding of his/her thinking on translation. Since translation is also a discourse, it is equally important to study the translated works, and make detailed textual analyses to find whether the translator’s principle is consistent with his/her practice – if inconsistent, researchers may further explore the factors leading to such discrepancy and provide explanations. The translator’s discourse, either direct or indirect, is also a product of a cultural, social and historical context. Thus, other discourses which may exert great influence upon the discourse of the translator are also a target of exploration. Through an analysis of the translator’s direct and indirect discourse on translation and other influencing discourses within a context of cultural history, we will be able to achieve width and depth in a macro as well as a micro perspective.

In Figure 1, I use a dotted line – as Cheung does in her figure – since oftentimes there is no clear-cut boundary between these categories. For instance, in some translations, there are translators’ commentaries and even explanations of the methods of translation.2 Such translations, in effect, also contain the translator’s direct or indirect discourse on translation.

1.2. Introduction to the Present Study

In this article, I will apply this framework to the study of Liang Shiqiu’s3 梁实秋 (1903–1987) discourse on translation. Liang is not only an accomplished writer, critic, lexicographer, but also a distinguished translator in China. After his graduation from Tsinghua School 清华学校4 in Beijing in 1923, he went on to study at Colorado College, Harvard University and Columbia University. He returned to China in 1926 and taught at several universities including Peking University, Tsingtao University, Jinan University, etc. In 1949, he went to Taiwan and was a professor at Taiwan Normal University until his retirement in 1966. Liang has left abundant ‘discourse’ including not only a great number of translations, but also important direct and indirect discourse on translation at different periods of the 20th century. He is the first Chinese translator who finished the translation of the complete works of Shakespeare, a gargantuan project which took him more than thirty years (1931–1967). In addition, he is also the translator of other works like George Eliot’s Silas Marner, the Weaver of Raveloe and Mr. Gilfil’s Love Story, Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, George Orwell’s Animal Farm,5 August Strindberg’s Married, Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, The Love Letters of Abelard and Heloise, etc. Liang is also an outstanding translation critic. He first attracted national attention for his ‘war of words’ with Lu Xun 鲁迅 (1881–1936), one of the most prominent literati in modern China, on various issues related to literature and translation in the 1920s and 1930s. During the different periods of Liang’s life, he published a series of

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articles on translation,6 and occasionally talked about translation during interviews.7 There is no denying that Liang’s discourse on translation is an inseparable part in the history of discourse on translation in China. To apply the framework presented in Figure 1, Liang’s discourse can be demonstrated as follows (Figure 2):

I will analyze both Liang’s direct and indirect discourse on translation. His direct discourse on translation includes both the inward-looking and the outward-looking discourse, covering topics such as the attitude of a translator, function of translation, translation criteria, and his debate with Lu Xun on translation.8 I will also explore whether or how Liang’s direct discourse was influenced by his indirect discourse on translation, for example, his thinking on literature and culture, and other discourse – particularly that from Chinese tradition and the new Humanism advocated by his Harvard teacher Irving Babbitt (1865–1933).

The debate between Liang and Lu Xun not only relates to translation standards and translated works, but also the relationship between literature and revolution, translation and ideology. The issue of ideology is hardly avoidable as the great political turmoil and social crisis in China at the time inevitably affected the fate of Liang and many other Chinese people. However, due to limited space, we are not going to focus on this issue9 neither will we give a detailed textual analysis on Liang’s translations.

Chinese Traditional Discourse

Liang Shiqiu’s Indirect Discourse on Translation

Liang Shiqiu’s Direct Discourse on Translation

Irving Babbitt’s Discourse

(Inward-looking) (Outward-looking)

Figure 2 A framework for the Study of Liang Shiqiu’s Discourse on Translation

Liang Shiqiu’s Translation



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2. LIANG’S DISCOURSE ON TRANSLATION

2.1. A ‘Serious’ Attitude

Liang believes that an appropriate attitude is essential for a translator. At the time when the old literary and cultural system was greatly shattered and a new paradigm did not yet come into being during the New Culture Movement,10 a considerable number of foreign works were translated into Chinese. Yet, Liang is rather dissatisfied with some irresponsible translators, whom he satirizes as follows:

At present, the first-class translators are really audacious. They can translate without a dictionary and often make up for this deficiency by producing many new meanings. When they come across a foreign book – just like a blind cat meets a dead mouse – and feel its name interesting, they can immediately start to work. First, they take out several chapters, change them into a book and then translate page by page. In this way, one foreign book can be translated into at least two Chinese books. If their Chinese is not fluent, they say this is ‘literal translation’; if the foreign language has been seriously mistranslated, they may say, “Negligence is unavoidable as it is done in haste.” At least, they can even say, “It is the fault of typesetters.” (Liang 1927, my translation)

According to Liang, these so-called translators are neither good at Chinese nor at a foreign language; in addition, they are rather careless and irresponsible – their interpretation of source texts is only based on guesswork rather than consultation of reference books. Such translations are inconsistent and even contradictory to the source texts, unavoidably leading to misunderstandings or even distortions. Liang’s discourse demonstrates his attempt to rectify an inappropriate tendency and, to a great extent, establish a new paradigm of translation principles.

For Liang (1927), translation must be a rational activity – instead of translating in a casual and careless way, translators should be responsible both to writers and readers. He believes that translators should first of all fully understand the original works, locate the sources of allusions and provide annotations to facilitate readers’ understanding (Liang 1933/1997a:617). In Liang’s opinion, the fact that not every translator had access to adequate reference books at that time was not an excuse for erratic and irresponsible translation.

A serious attitude requires translators to face and solve, rather than evade, all the challenges encountered. Thus translation becomes a difficult and even

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painful process. Liang regards ‘the pain of translation’ as ‘no less than giving birth to a child’ (see Liang W. Q. 1993:39). This is just like what Yan Fu 严复 (1854–1921) says, “To translate a single term needs a whole month’s pondering” (Yan 1898/1984:137, my translation). Liang, in a ci 词 (a type of classical poetry) written for a friend, also gives vent to his occasional frustration with the difficulties of translation, especially the translation of puns, which haunted him so much that he “fingered the beard broken” (see Chen 1992:419, my translation). Yet, arduous as the work of translation may be, Liang does not think it acceptable to simply omit the difficult parts, as some translators do.

As regards the proper attitude that a littérateur should take, Liang’s discourse on translation is indeed in resonance with his discourse on literature. In his article ‘Wenxue de yanzhongxing’ (The Seriousness of Literature), he holds that creating and even reading literature requires a serious attitude. He argues that literature is not for fun, since literary masters create literature out of their inner heart; when reading their works, readers should also have a serious attitude if they wish to understand the meaning of life (Liang 1969a:48–49). In another article Liang reiterates this stance and maintains that in the field of arts attitude is the most important issue, and the people who may do harm to literature are not those who do not know literature at all, but those who are in this field but with an unserious attitude (Liang 1939:7).

This serious attitude accords with Liang’s emphasis on the morality of the literati. In one of his articles, he highlights the importance of morality by quoting the annotations on dexing 德行 from the book Zhou Rites 周礼: de 德 is the virtue within the inner heart; when it is exercised, it is called xing 行. (Liang 1969d:29) A littérateur should first be a virtuous man – a virtuous man will surely not write or translate in an unserious and irresponsible manner. This view on the seriousness of attitude in creating, reading and translating literary works is in accordance with cheng 诚 , which is generally translated as ‘sincerity’ – a quality very much appreciated in traditional Chinese discourse in the book Zhongyong 中庸 (Doctrine of the Mean): “Sincerity is the way of Heaven. The attainment of sincerity is the way of men” (see Legge 1983:413; Legge’s translation). Literature and translation, which play such an important part in the cultural and social life in early 20th century China, should therefore be taken sincerely and seriously.

In practice, Liang sets a good example as a ‘serious’ translator. A serious attitude also involves a careful selection of texts to translate – priority should be given to ‘serious’ works, namely the classical works. Indeed, the works Liang himself translates are mainly such ‘serious’ works.11 His seriousness in doing translation can be well demonstrated by his translation of Shakespeare – he tries to present Shakespeare seriously and meticulously. He undertook this project at a very difficult period of his life – he could only translate in his spare time, and



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there was a severe shortage of reference books. In addition, there were turbulent social upheavals, like the Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945) and the Chinese Civil War (1946–1949), causing extra difficulties. Liang made every effort to overcome all the difficulties. In order to fully understand Shakespeare, he took great pains to obtain all the available reference books on Shakespeare. His collection of reference books on Shakespeare eventually surpassed that of any university library in China at that time (Liang 1970:98). When he translated, in keeping with his principles, he supplied annotations to help readers understand the Bard. Therefore, Liang not only criticizes, but also provides constructive solutions; he not only preaches, but also acts – in this sense, he is a translator with the virtues of both de and xing.

2.2. The Function of Translation and the Responsibility of Translator

2.2.1. ‘Introduction’ as the function of translation

Liang holds that the function of translation is to introduce source texts to readers (Liang 1967a:75), and “the purpose of translation is to faithfully represent a work in another language for those who do not know the original language” (Liang 1932/1997b:593–594; my translation). As both a writer and translator, he considers that translation is less important than writing and translation is like a servant of the original writer assisting readers to get access to the source text. Translators can either “translate for the sake of translation” or “translate for the sake of introduction”, and the latter is what they should do (Liang 1923:7).

Zhuangzi 庄子 (369–286 BC) says, “The wicker basket is for catching fish; once you have got the fish, the basket is forgotten. The hare trap is for catching hares; once you have got the hare, the trap is forgotten” (See Cheung 2006:40; Cheung’s translation). Zhuangzi’s purpose in using the metaphor is to argue that “words are for catching ideas [yì 意]; once you have got the idea, the words are forgotten” (ibid.). But the metaphor can, to some extent, be used to explain Liang’s understanding of the relationship between a translation and its source text. Translation is just like a wicker basket or a hare trap, and the source text is, to some extent, like a fish or hare, and the function of translation is to convey the meanings of the source text to readers.

Liang remarks, “In the past, translation was compared to ‘feeding people through one’s mouth’; this saying really has very profound significance” (Liang 1967a:75; my translation). In another article, he also says,

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Translation is like feeding people through the translator’s mouth; what is more, it is like feeding people after chewing. Therefore, when we read some classical works, we may feel that they are as hard as nuts and we are not able to eat, but we may find them easier to ingest if we read their translations. (Liang 1982b:211, my translation)

‘Feeding people through one’s mouth’ is a metaphor originating from Kumārajīva 鸠摩罗什 (344–409), a prominent Buddhist sutras translator of Indian descent in ancient China:

He [Kumārajīva] once said, “… when the Fàn [Sanskrit] sutras are translated into Chinese, the beauty of form and the colour and verve are lost. The meaning can generally be conveyed, but in a form very different from the original. It is like giving someone rice that you have chewed; he will find it not just tasteless, but downright disgusting.” (Cheung 2006:94, Jane Lai’s translation)

Liang’s interpretation of Kumārajīva’s metaphor is different from the latter’s intended meaning.12 He borrows the metaphor to refer to a kind of translation which is a thorough interpretation of the source text and thus may facilitate readers’ understanding. From the context, we may find that Kumārajīva does not talk about “the interpreted nature of translation” (Cheung 2006:94); instead, he uses this metaphor to refer to a kind of translation which is not able to keep “the beauty of form and the colour and verve” of the source text.

There is one fundamental difference between these two prolific translators. Kumārajīva, well known for omission, uses this metaphor to refer to abridged translation, while Liang, who is against omission, borrows the metaphor to describe translations that are not only unabridged, but also have detailed annotations. For Liang, such translations are not tasteless or disgusting, but beneficial, as they introduce the source texts to readers.

Apparently, Kumārajīva talks about jiaofan yuren in a somewhat negative way, while Liang in a positive way. Liang thinks such food could be delicious to the translator who has the privilege to chew it first. Talking about his Shakespeare project, he says that he himself has benefited from it the most, since he had to chew the works several times (Liang 1967a:75). For Liang, it is the responsibility of the translator to taste and chew the original text carefully first and then feed it to those who do not know the source language. Irresponsible translators, whom Liang severely criticizes, actually fail to ‘chew’ the original text ‘seriously’.



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2.2.2. An ‘academic translation’ for the purpose of ‘introduction’

In order to achieve the purpose of introduction, Liang maintains that translators should provide background information about the writers as well as the source texts, and supply detailed annotations to facilitate readers’ understanding. Such a translation is similar to ‘academic translation’ or ‘thick translation’, which is “a translation that aims to be of use in literary teaching”, and “seeks with its annotations and its accompanying glosses to locate the text in a rich cultural and linguistic context” (Appiah 2004:399).13

Liang’s translation of Shakespeare can no doubt be used in ‘literary teaching’, as Yu Kwang-Chung 余光中 comments on Liang’s Shakespeare, “There are two ways of reading Liang’s version. The first is to read the translation only; the second is to read it together with the source texts. When I gave lessons, I applied the latter, so that whenever I had any questions I would benefit” (Yu 1988:28, my translation). We can also find that in Liang’s translations generally there are detailed introductions and annotations, especially in his version of Shakespeare. For instance, before his version of each play there is detailed introduction to the play’s historical background, the source of its story, records of its various performances, etc. Sometimes they also include Liang’s own commentaries. For example, the translations of The Two Gentlemen of Verona (1964a), Love’s Labour’s Lost (1967b) and Much Ado about Nothing (1964b) are preceded by a preface containing a section entitled ‘my commentaries’. The preface to his translation of The Tempest (1966a) also contains a section entitled ‘The Meaning of The Tempest’.14 Liang’s other translations also tend to include detailed prefaces. For example, his translation of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations contains a preface introducing Aurelius’s life and philosophy and the different versions of Meditations (Liang 1969e). His translation of The Love Letters of Abelard and Heloise contains a twenty-page preface and a three-page postscript.15

No translation can be perfect, of course, and Liang’s method of translation is also open to criticism. His critics claim that his version of Shakespeare is unfit for the stage. This may be one of the outcomes of ‘thick translation’. Yet, performance is not Liang’s purpose in translating Shakespeare. The Foreword to his translation of The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Liang 1979:1) gives a list of his translation principles, but this does not contain a reference to performance on the stage. He thinks that plays, including Shakespeare’s, can exist independently of the stage, and can be either suitable or unsuitable for the stage (Liang 1965:30). In contrast, Cao Yu 曹禺 (1910–1996), a playwright, states very clearly in his preface to his version of Romeo and Juliet, “My purpose is performance and I try to make my translation easy to read” (Cao

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1979:1, my translation). The two translators have different skopos, hence divergent translation methods.

2.2.3. The invisibility of ‘Zijia’ in Liang’s translation

There is no denying that Liang’s Chinese essays are extraordinarily elegant. His translations seem to be in a distinct contrast with the style of his essays.16 In the 1940s, he published a series of essays in a newspaper in Chongqing 重庆, a provisional capital after the fall of Nanjing 南京 during the Sino-Japanese War. These essays, written under the pen name Zijia 子佳, were a great success,17 and people were curious about who Zijia was. Xu Zhongnian 徐仲年 (1904–1981), a professor of French, declared categorically, “Just look at the wording – definitely it is beyond the capacity of Liang, the one who translates Shakespeare!” (Liang 1967a:76; my translation) Zhu Guangqian 朱光潜 (1897–1986), one of Liang’s colleagues at Peking University, even wrote to him, “Your ‘Yashe Essays’ will have greater contributions to literature than your translation of Shakespeare” (Liang 1988:3; my translation). Liang’s reply to such comments was, “It is indeed one person; but when one translates, he/she should not use rhetorical language without restraint as when writing essays (Liang 1967a:76; my translation).

For Liang, translating and writing are two different activities. The former is a vehicle to represent another person’s voices and ideas, while the latter is a free representation of one’s own feelings and thought. It is interesting that Liang once uses a metaphor in one of his essays, “All writings are a kind of translation, a translation of our thinking and feelings in our mind into language” (Liang 1969c:125; my translation). It follows that all writers are translators – this surely broadens the meanings of translation. Thus translation in the general sense of the word involves two stages of ‘translation’: the original writer’s ‘translation’ of his/her thought and feelings is translated into another language. A translator will show more restraint in his/her part of the process. For Liang, a translator should work within rather than without such a constraint. Given his talent for writing, Liang undoubtedly has the capacity to paraphrase the meanings of source texts in very elegant language, like that of his essays, but he chooses to restrain his own feelings and style while translating, and hence the invisibility of ‘Zijia’ in the translation.

However, readers find the translator ‘visible’ in Liang’s translations. This visibility can be demonstrated by Liang’s use of many footnotes and annotations, the language which may not appear as fluent as his writings, and the fact that his translation reads like a translation. This is an interesting phenomenon in the history of translation in China, a phenomenon quite different from that of ‘the translator’s invisibility’ described by Venuti (2004). It is a case of a translator



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choosing to make his status as a writer or creator ‘invisible’, but his status as a translator ‘visible’.

2.3. The criteria of Translation

Liang believes that the criteria of translation are zhongshi 忠实 (faithfulness), liuli 流利 (fluency) and chuanshen 传神 (vividness, or more literally ‘representation of the spirit’). He says, “Whether the translation is faithful, whether it is fluent, whether it represents the spirit – all these are factors which need to be borne in mind” (Liang 1982b:208; my translation). Here zhongshi and liuli are similar to Yan Fu’s xin 信 and da 达 respectively. Liang believes that these two are essential, and even says that the standard of translation contains, “to put it simply, only two words: xin and da” (Liang 1969b:222). As for chuanshen, Liang does not offer further explanation, but it is not the same as Yan Fu’s ya 雅. ‘Shen’ 神 in ‘chuanshen’ refers to the spirit of the source text; chuan 传 means transferring or representing. Thus chuanshen refers to transferring or representing the spirit of the source text. This standard also relates to the first standard, i.e. faithfulness – faithfulness to the source text in terms of the spirit. Therefore, among the three standards, the most important one is faithfulness.

Although faithfulness comes first in Yan Fu’s list of criteria, it seems that Yan does not give priority to it in his practice. From his Tianyanlun 天演论, the translation of Thomas Huxley’s Evolution and Ethics, we may find that it is not ‘faithful’ to the original.18 In contrast, faithfulness takes precedence with Liang – both in his theoretical writings and his practice. There seems to be a consensus among scholars that faithfulness is the most outstanding feature of Liang’s translation.19

One of Liang’s daughters says that both she and her mother find it difficult to read her father’s version of Shakespeare, and her mother even suggests him to use fluent Chinese to make it more accessible. But Liang says, “No, you are not the only one who considers it difficult; it is the same for me. … Shakespeare is like this and we need to keep the true flavour” (Liang Wenqian 1993:39; my translation). It is difficult to achieve both faithfulness and fluency at the same time; translators have to sacrifice fluency to some extent for the sake of faithfulness.

As for the saying that the best translation does not read like a translation, he dismisses it as “a layman’s word”, and asks, “How can a translation read unlike a translation?” (See Qiu 1988:395) Qian Zhongshu 钱锺书 (1910–1998) actually mentions this while discussing huajing 化境 (realm of transformation): “[…] translation should be so faithful to the source text that it does not read like

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a translation because the works in the source language surely do not read like translation” (Qian 1981:302; my translation). Faithfulness in every respect, including faithfulness to the beauty, style and even fluency of the source text, is too high an ideal to be achieved. In reality, a translation which does not read like a translation is fluent and elegant, but can be very different from its original text. Liang says,

[…] to judge whether a translation is good or bad, we must compare it with the source text. If it is not contradictory to the source text, and, at the same time, it is fluent and does not read like a translation, this is surely a first-class translation. If the translator only knows the general ideas of the source text, makes his own interpretation according to the context, and then translates in fluent native language – this is only sense translation. This method can be used in translating common articles, but it is not appropriate for translating literary works. The value of literary works lies, to a great extent, in their masterly use of words. Therefore, translators should consider the use of every word meticulously, and try to achieve equi-valence to the source text […] (Liang 1982b:210; my translation)

Liang maintains that a translation should not be evaluated by the standard that it reads like a well-written work; instead, it should be compared with the original work. In other words, the standard is still faithfulness.

Liang talks about his reviewing of a translation of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (written by Edward Gibbon, 1737–1794) as follows:

Several years ago, I was invited to review a translation of Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. The book is a first-class work, both a historical classic and a literary classic. The beauty of its essayistic style is really extraordinary. It is gargantuan; after I proofread the first several chapters, I was not able to continue. The translation is unimpeachably fluent and truly does not read like a translation. But when I compared it with the source text, I found that a considerable portion of the elegant source text had been deleted. The elegant part is most difficult to translate. Such a translation, which avoids the difficult parts and only deals with the easy parts, does not read like a translation, but can we say it is a good translation? (Liang 1982b:210–211; my translation)

This remark further testifies to Liang’s priorities: in his view, a prerequisite of fluency is that the translation does not deviate from the source text. This



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explains why Liang’s own translation reads more like a translation than his exquisite essays.

Laozi 老子 says, “Trustworthy [xìn 信] words are not beautiful [měi 美]; beautiful [měi 美] words are not trustworthy [xìn 信]” (Cheung 2006:24; Cheung’s translation). Here xìn can also be translated into ‘sincere’ or ‘faithful’ (Cheung 2006:24). It is very difficult, even impossible, to achieve both faithfulness and beauty at the same time; Liang’s insistence on faithfulness means that beauty will inevitably be sacrificed to some extent.

In order to keep the original flavour, Liang retains the bawdy language in his translation of Shakespeare in spite of the norm that expressions suggestive of sex have long been a taboo in Chinese literature. One of Liang’s daughters says, “When I occasionally read Shakespeare’s drama, I find it awkward to read it aloud because of so many bawdy expressions. I asked Father whether he could delete these parts” (Liang W. Q. 1993:39; my translation). But Liang says: “Just imagine a translator has deleted two or three hundred lines which contain bawdy expressions. Although we cannot say that the translation is totally different from the source text, at least it is not an authentic Shakespeare” (Liang 1967a:76; my translation). In fact, to keep the ribald expressions of the source text is one of his translation principles, stated very clearly in the preface to his version of the complete works of Shakespeare (see Liang 1979:1).

Liang knows the prevalent norms well, but maintains that a great littérateur will not be constrained by the appetite of readers; instead, he/she should transcend the standard of the present age, and only in this way can he/she produce serious works (Liang 1939:9). This surely holds true for producing a serious translation.

2.4. An Appropriate Degree of Literalism: the Debate with Lu Xun

The above analysis demonstrates Liang’s priority on faithfulness – it even appears that he would rather sacrifice fluency for the sake of faithfulness. But in his heated debate with Lu Xun in the 1920s and 1930s, he strongly criticizes Lu’s translation for its lack of fluency. In fact, both advocate ‘faithfulness’, and Lu Xun goes even further, embracing a word-for-word method. Judging by the traditional concept of xin (trustworthy or faithful) words and mei (beautiful) words, we may find that neither of their translations belong to the latter, though both can write ‘beautifully’. Then, in terms of translation, what is the main point in their debate?

It is not completely correct to consider their debate as one over literal translation and sense translation, as both prefer a method that is close to literal translation. It is not completely reasonable either if we say that this is another

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debate on zhi 质(unhewn) translation and wen 文 (refined) translation, as in the history of translation discourse in ancient China.20 Cheung maintains that there is no clear definition of zhi translation and wen translation; yet their points of view can be understood if we consider a cluster of related concepts. The terms related to the former can be zhi 直 (straightforward), xin (trustworthy), etc, and those related to the latter yan 严 (embellishment), ya 雅 (elegance) and mei (beautiful), etc. (Cheung 2006:61). Both of the translations of Liang and Lu Xun, to some extent, could be categorized in the former. But the former, at a certain period of history, also referred to omission of texts the translator did not understand, and in this sense it is different from literal translation (ibid.: 62). Liang is against omission, and, strictly speaking, his translation does not belong to zhi translation in this respect.

In terms of translation criteria, the essence of their debate is actually the degree of literalism. If we consider the debate according to what Schleiermacher says, “Either the translator leaves the writer alone as much as possible and moves the reader toward the writer, or he leaves the reader alone as much as possible and moves the writer toward the reader” (Schleiermacher 1992:42), we may find that both Liang and Lu Xun belong to the former, yet to different degrees – Lu Xun ‘as much as possible’, whereas Liang only to a certain degree. Liang emphasizes faithfulness, yet he also deems fluency very important and tries to lead a medium way.

In early modern and modern China, two extreme methods of translation exist: one is ‘extreme liberalism’ represented by Lin Shu, while the other ‘extreme literalism’, represented by Lu Xun (Chan 2004:18). Liang is against both of them. His opposition to the former is beyond doubt – translations produced with an unserious attitude that Liang criticizes can, to a great extent, be considered instances of ‘extreme liberalism’. As for the latter, for instance, Lu’s translation, Liang calls it yingyi 硬译 (rigid translation). In his article entitled ‘Ouhua wen’ 欧化文 (Europeanized Works) published in 1933, Liang gives Lu Xun the nickname ‘Master of Rigid Translation’ and maintains that translation, especially rigid translation, is to blame for Europeanized writings (Liang 1969b:222). Liang also calls Lu’s translation siyi 死译 , literally meaning ‘dead translation’, and borrows Chen Xiying’s 陈西滢 (1896–1970) words to describe such translation:

Mr. Chen Xiying says, “They not only translate according to the sequences of words and sentences, but also consider that no word should be added, no word should be moved forward and no word should be moved backward. They call this translation, but to translate in this way is worse than not to translate at all; even Mr. Zhou Zuoren 周作人 (1885–1967), an advocate



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of literal translation, calls this ‘dead translation’.” (Liang 1929a:3; my translation)

Such a ‘dead translation’ is too literal to be understood: “To read such books is just like reading a map. You need to use your finger to locate the grammar” (Liang 1929a:3; my translation).

Although faithfulness is Liang’s first priority, he does not think that fluency is unimportant: in order to make the translation accessible, a translator should not be too restricted by the grammar of the source text. Rather, he/she should make certain adjustments according to the characteristics of the target language. He thus highlights the importance of fluency: “To make readers understand is the first important thing” (Liang 1929a:4; my translation). Such an emphasis is not inconsistent with his criterion of faithfulness, if interpreted within its context. Comparing the translations of Liang and Lu, we may find that although Liang’s translation is sometimes criticized for lack of fluency, it is much more fluent than Lu’s.21

One of the reasons for Lu’s extreme literalism is that he believes such translation is a means to reform the Chinese language. He maintains that for readers who are well educated, his translation method is ‘rather to be faithful than fluent’, and such method cannot only help bring in new content, but also new expressions (Lu Xun 1932/1997:588). Liang does not deny the need for changing the Chinese language, but holds that such change should be carried out progressively instead of radically or revolutionarily (Liang 1969c:129).22 He contends that it is inevitable for the Chinese language to change under the influence of foreign languages, but the rigid translation done by an irresponsible translator in the guise of Europeanization is self-deceiving (Liang 1969b:222).

Liang believes that both faithfulness and fluency are important and tries to achieve Zhongyong 中庸, which is generally translated as ‘the Doctrine of the Mean’. There are different interpretations of Zhongyong. According to Zhu Xi’s 朱熹 (1130–1200) annotation, Zhong is “the name for what is without incli-nation or deflection, which neither exceeds nor comes short”, and yong means “ordinary, constant” (see Legge 1983:382; Legge’s translation). According to Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107), Zhong means “being without inclination to either side”, and yong means “the fixed principle regulating all under heaven” (ibid.). Liang never theorizes his translation principles by using the term Zhongyong; however, we may find that he is against any extreme method, either extreme liberalism or extreme literalism, and tries to achieve a moderation or a harmony between literalism and liberalism, faithfulness and fluency. Lu’s extreme literalism in effect may not necessarily produce an accurate translation even if he adheres to the word-for-word method strictly, just as a traditional Chinese

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idiom goes: wu ji bi fan 物极必反 (If something becomes extreme, it will develop in the opposite direction).

3. RETHINKING CHINESE TRADITION: BABBITT, A TWO-WAY MIRROR

The above analysis of Liang’s discourse indicates a consonance between his thinking on translation and traditional Chinese thought, particularly Confucianism. One would not expect Liang’s appreciation of Confucianism – at a time when it was denounced – was, to a great extent, influenced by Irving Babbitt, Liang’s teacher at Harvard. This is a fascinating phenomenon of ‘two-way mirrors’ – a metaphor I borrow from Eoyang (2007)23, reflecting both the Self and the Other – in East-West cross-cultural communication.

Babbitt was a prominent American critic and scholar, one of the initiators of New Humanism, a movement which stresses the value of moderation and restraint as embodied in both Western and Eastern traditions, including Confucianism.24 He is the scholar who has the greatest impact upon Liang’s thinking on literature and culture, a foundation of his thinking on translation. When Liang was at Tsinghua School, he participated in the May Fourth Movement in 1919. As part of that movement, various Western political and literary ideas poured into China and took a tremendous toll on Confucianism, which was then considered by many intellectuals as the root of China’s backwardness. Liang was more or less influenced by the Movement, but his ideas changed dramatically after he went to Harvard and took Babbitt’s courses and read his books. This experience marks a watershed in his thinking as he later recalled, “From extreme romanticism, I changed to a stance more or less close to classicism” (Liang 1977:3; my translation).25

The situation in the early 20th century China can be well depicted in Babbitt’s word: “Under the impact of the West an ethos that has endured for thousands of years has been crumbling amid a growing spiritual bewilderment”, and “the Orient itself is losing its orientation” (Babbitt 2006:227). Babbitt was particularly worried about the fate of Confucianism, a target of condemnation during the New Culture Movement. He does not think it wise that it should be renounced when the Chinese try to strengthen themselves by learning Western democracy and science. When many Chinese scholars lose faith in traditional Chinese culture, it is an interesting phenomenon that some, particularly Babbitt’s Chinese students,26 regain confidence from a Westerner. Babbitt’s special interest in Confucianism as well as his encouragement to his Chinese students can be well demonstrated by one of his mails to Wu Mi dated on 17 September 1922:



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My special interest, as you know, is in the great Confucian tradition and the elements of admirable humanism that it contains. This tradition needs to be revitalized and adjusted to new conditions but anything approaching a complete break with it would in my judgment be a grave disaster for China itself and ultimately perhaps for the rest of us (see Wu 2004:12). In Liang’s article ‘On Mr. Babbitt and His Ideas’, he tries to explain

Babbitt’s conception of three possible levels of human life: naturalistic, humanistic, and religious. Liang argues that the life truly maintaining human nature is what we should always try to attain, and that, in this respect, Babbitt’s thought is very close to that of Confucius (Liang 1977:5). Babbitt believes that there is a duality of good and evil in all human beings and only through the cultivation of an ‘inner check’, a quality of will that can restrain desire and impulse, can human beings elevate themselves and society at large. Liang considers that Babbitt’s ideal is Zhongyong and his idea is similar to the Confucian keji fuli 克己复礼 (“Subdue one’s self and return to propriety”; Legge 1983:250; Legge’s translation) (Liang 1977:6–7).

When talking about the New Culture Movement, Babbitt does not deny the necessity for China to acquire some machinery from the West so as to defend itself against imperialistic aggressions, but China “should not in its eagerness to become progressive imitate the Occident and pour out the baby with the bath water” (Babbitt 1921:86). The ‘baby’ here refers to “the soul of truth that is contained in its great tradition”, which has “certain striking analogies” with the Western traditions (ibid.). Babbitt thinks that there are two aspects, namely religious and humanistic, in both of the Western and Eastern traditions – Aristotle and Christ are the representatives of the Western tradition, corresponding to Confucius and Buddha in the East. He believes that the two traditions “confirm one another especially on the humanistic side, and constitute together what one may term the wisdom of the ages” (ibid. 91). He warns that if China adopts “too uncritically certain notions that are current in the West”, it may run the risk of losing what is best in China’s tradition without acquiring what is best in the West (ibid.).

It is worth noticing that Babbitt points out in the footnote that he borrows Lionel Giles’s translation of li 礼 as ‘law of inner control’27 (Babbitt 1921:89). He says that he was “struck by the central soundness” of Confucianism, and believes that the Confucian li indicates that “he [Confucius] agrees with the best humanists of the Occident from Aristotle and the Greeks down” (ibid. 89). The man who accepts the humanistic doctrine is what Confucius calls Junzi 君子, of which Babbitt uses the version ‘a superior man’28 corresponding to what Aristotle considers ‘a highly serious man’ (σπουδαιος) (ibid.). The Chinese term Zhongyong actually has its counterpart in the West, that is, Aristotle’s doctrine

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of the mean, which refers to “all virtues as striking a balance between vices of excess and vices of defect” (Blackburn 2008).

Liang’s advocacy of a serious attitude can be associated not only with Confucian cheng, but can also be attributed to Babbitt’s influence. Liang recalled that when he attended Babbitt’s class and presented the title of his course paper (about Oscar Wilde) to the teacher, Babbitt told him that when writing such a paper, he should have ‘an infinite amount of care’, the word Babbitt often used (Liang 1977:3). Liang followed his teacher’s instruction and spent half a year on the article consulting all the works of Wilde and most of the related materials in the library. He says that from his teacher he learned the ‘great seriousness’ of literature and arts (ibid.). It is not surprizing that later Liang also maintains that writing, reading and translating all require ‘an infinite amount of care’.

From Babbitt, a two-way mirror, Liang not only sees the West, but also the East, particularly the value of Chinese tradition. This is more than a ‘two-way’ perspective, as it not only reflects the Other and the Self, but also the past and the present; such a multi-dimensional mirror, which is neither Eurocentric nor Sinocentric, may also shed light on the direction one is heading in.

4. CONCLUSION

The above analysis may demonstrate that Liang’s direct discourse on translation is in line with his discourse on literature and culture; it also accords with some Confucian concepts like cheng, li, zhongyong and keji fuli, and reflects the influence of Babbitt.

In terms of translation principles, we find that Liang is a translator who ‘leaves the writer alone’ and ‘moves the reader toward the writer’, but to a degree he deems appropriate instead of ‘as much as possible’. Liang’s priority is faithfulness, but he does not consider fluency unimportant. With the doctrine of the mean – coming from Confucius or Aristotle or Babbitt – he is against both extreme liberalism and extreme literalism, and also against an extreme way of reforming the target language through excessive Europeanization as Lu Xun maintains. Liang’s translation and translation principles are a manifestation of the value of moderation and restraint, which Babbitt highly cherishes.

The serious attitude also indicates that, like Confucius and Babbitt, Liang highly appreciates a sense of morality. A serious attitude can be a natural outcome of ‘a highly serious man’; translations produced with such a serious attitude and a good conscience are trustworthy – though not very beautiful – just as Zan Ning 赞宁 (919–1001) believes that Xuan Zang’s translation can be trusted (Cheung 2006:174). Liang not only preaches such moral consciousness, but also puts what he advocates into practice in his Shakespeare project.



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With his principles on literature and translation based on ‘the wisdom of the ages’ of both the East and West, we may find that East (Confucius) meets West (Aristotle) in Liang’s discourse. Liang has the self-assurance to transcend the prevalent norms of a certain historical period, just like Babbitt, who “stood apart from his own time” (Ryn 1995:l). And because of this, Liang’s translation might not be widely accepted, just like Babbitt’s idea appeared out of tune both in America and China at the time. Yet, Liang sticks to his principles, just as Confucius “knows the impracticable nature of the times, and yet will be doing in them” (see Legge 1983:290; Legge’s translation).

The ‘inner check’, which Babbitt highly appreciates, is also a foundation of Liang’s thinking on translation. We may find Liang’s ‘inner check’ in the serious attitude he both advocates and takes, his selection of serious classical works for translation, his choosing of a method similar to ‘thick translation’ to achieve his skopos of ‘introduction’, and his opposition to both extreme liberalism and extreme literalism. ‘Inner check’ also requires him to restrain his own feelings and writing style, thus making him as a master writer invisible, even though he surely has the capacity to rewrite in elegant and fluent language, like Lin Shu and Yan Fu do.

When Liang tries to find the Other in a foreign land, he rediscovers the Self through his American teacher, who successfully convinces his Chinese students to look back and cherish the value of their own culture and tradition. This fascinating phenomenon of ‘two-way mirrors’ can still provide some inspirations for our rethinking of the relationship between East and West, past and present, in the present globalized world. However demoded Babbitt’s ideas might appear, it could again remind us not to ‘pour out the baby with the bath water’, as there is also a risk that we may lose what is best in Chinese tradition without acquiring what is best in the West. Traditional discourse on translation in Chinese history, like Liang’s, is surely one of such babies.

Notes

1 To get a detailed discussion on the myriad applications and interpretations of this term in history, readers may refer to Mills (2004).

2 The translation of Wu Mi 吴宓 (1894–1978) is one of such examples. Readers may get some information about Wu’s translation and the journal he edited from Bai & Chu (2008).

3 The name is also spelled Liang Shih-ch’iu in the Wade-Giles system. 4 This school is the origin of the present Tsinghua University. The original name of

Tsinghua School was Qinghua Xuetang 清华学堂, which was established in 1911. The name Qinghua Xuexiao was adopted in 1912. Funded by Boxer Indemnity, the school was a preparatory school for further study in America.

5 Liang translated George Orwell’s Animal Farm under the pen name Li Qichun 李启纯.

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6 For example, Liang 1929a, 1929b, 1932, 1970, 1982a, 1982c, etc. 7 For example, Qiu 1988. 8 In an article published in Chinese (Bai 2007a), such issues were also touched upon; yet,

the present article provides a further interpretation by applying the above mentioned research framework.

9 Readers may get to know whether or how Liang’s translation activities were influenced by the factors like patronage and ideology from Bai (2007b, 2009a, 2009b), etc.

10 New Culture Movement, in Chinese xin wenhua yundong 新文化运动, was advocated by intellectuals like Chen Duxiu 陈独秀 (1879–1942), Cai Yuanpei 蔡元培 (1868–1940), Hu Shi 胡适 (1891–1962), Lu Xun, etc. to call for a new Chinese culture based on Western standards, especially democracy and science, in the early 20th century.

11 For more information on how Liang selected works to translate, readers could refer to Bai (2004:53–54).

12 Liang’s original Chinese for ‘feeding people through one’s mouth’ is hanfan buren 含饭哺人. Kumārajīva actually uses jiaofan yuren 嚼饭与人 (Chu & Zhu 2006: 175), meaning “giving someone rice that you have chewed” (Cheung 2006:94, Jane Lai’s translation).

13 To get the genealogy and other information on ‘thick translation’, refer to Cheung (2006:2–3, 2007) and Hermans (2003).

14 In Liang (1966b), there is a section entitled ‘Shakespeare’s Plays’, which is as long as 250 pages including all of the prefaces in Liang’s version of The Complete Works of Shakespeare.

15 Several of Liang’s translations did not have prefaces when first published, but he later provided introductions. For example, there were no prefaces in his versions of Wuthering Heights and Animal Farm; he later wrote two articles entitled ‘The Story of Wuthering Heights: a Supplementary Preface for One of My Old Translations’ (1983) and ‘Animal Farm and Satiric Literature’ (1978).

16 Chau says that Liang’s version of Hamlet lacks the artistic flavour of the source text and reads monotonous, and its greatest achievement lies in the fact that it can help readers do research on Shakespeare (1981:387). Tung also considers Liang’s Wuthering Heights a great contrast to his artistic achievement in his essays (1998:247). Some judge Liang’s translation according to Yan Fu’s criteria, and consider that Liang’s translation is faithful and fluent, but not quite elegant (see Ye 1968:51, Liu 1992:45). Yu thinks that Liang’s translation meets these three criteria, but sometimes Liang sacrificed elegance for the sake of faithfulness (1980:178).

17 These articles were later published in an anthology entitled Yashe xiaopin 雅舍小品 (Yashe Essays), one of the bestsellers in China. Yashe 雅舍, which literally means ‘elegant house’, was the name of Liang’s home in Chongqing.

18 We may find considerable additions and omissions in Yan’s Tianyanlun. Readers can get to know such discrepancies from Sinn (1991).

19 For instance, his version of Shakespeare is considered nonpareil in terms of faithfulness and this marks a distinctive difference from the version of Zhu Shenghao 朱生豪 (1912–1944), another important translator of Shakespeare (Ye 1968:55).

20 The debate related to wen 文 and zhi 质 translation is one of the key issues in the history of discourse on translation in China, particularly in the field of Buddhist sutra translation. Readers may refer to entries 29, 33, 34, 36, 38, 40, 41, 44, 63, 65, 76, etc. in Cheung (2006) to get more information about the discussions among the Buddhist monk translators like Dao An 道安,



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Hui Yuan 慧远, Seng Rui 僧叡, Seng Zhao 僧肇, Yan Cong 彥琮, Bian Ji 辩机, etc. at different periods of Chinese history.

21 In Liang’s article ‘A Letter on Translation’ (1932), he criticizes Lu’s translations with examples and also provides his own version. Readers can easily find that Liang’s translation is more fluent than Lu’s.

22 This idea is in line with Liang’s opposition to radical means, like revolution, for achieving social changes. Lu Xun and Liang have fundamental differences about issues like the relationship between literature and revolution. Please refer to Bai (2009) for more information.

23 Eoyang uses the metaphor ‘two-way mirrors’ to refer to the study which, though focused on the other, reveals the self (Eoyang 2007: ix).

24 Babbitt was born in Ohio in 1865. He received his education at Harvard University and Écoles des Hautes-Études in Paris and taught French and comparative literature at Harvard for almost forty years. His works include Literature and the American College (1908), The New Laokoön (1910), The Masters of Modern French Criticism (1912), Rousseau and Romanticism (1919), Democracy and Leadership (1924), On Being Creative (1932), etc.

25 For more information on Babbitt’s influence upon Liang’s literary and social thought, refer to Bai (2004).

26 Besides Liang, Babbitt also has other Chinese students like Mei Guangdi 梅光迪 (1890-1945), Wu Mi, Tang Yongtong 汤用彤 (1893–1964), Zhang Xinhai 张歆海 (1898–1972), Lou Guanglai 楼光来 (1895–1960), Hu Xiansu 胡先骕 (1894–1968), Guo Binhe 郭斌龢 (1900–1987), and Lin Yutang 林语堂 (1895–1976) etc. Among them, only Lin was not a follower of Babbitt.

27 The exact term Giles uses is “inner law of self-control” (Giles 1949:39). 28 In a footnote, Babbitt points out that ‘true aristocrat’ is a better version (1921:89).

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TRANSLATOR STUDIES': LIANG SHIQIU'S DISCOURSE ON TRANSLATION