Of all the fortnightly pieces which Paul Jennings (1918-89) wrote for the Observer between 1949 and 1966, few are funnier than ‚ÄėBabel in the Nursery‚Äô, collected in Golden Oddlies (London, 1983; X.958/20513). Glancing at the translations of Beatrix Potter‚Äôs works listed on the jacket on one of her books, Jennings reflected on the role of translators (‚Äėheroes or fools‚Äô) in opening up the ‚Äėtranscendentalized English village‚Äô set firmly in the Cumbrian countryside to young readers throughout the world. Even the characters‚Äô names undergo changes which transform their bearers into very different figures: ‚ÄėSophie Can√©tang , a Stendhal heroine ‚Ä¶ the awful Mauriac Famille Flopsaut ‚Ä¶ Noisy-Noisette, the Mata Hari of the twenties, as depicted by Colette ‚Ä¶ Tom Het Poesje, a kind of Dutch Till Eulenspiegel ‚Ä¶ Il Coniglio Pierino, the swarthy Sicilian bandit.‚Äô
Today, as we celebrate the 150th anniversary of Beatrix Potter‚Äôs birth, we may well admire the ingenuity of translators in tackling these challenges and giving her works to the children of the world in multilingual versions, many of which appear in the British Library‚Äôs catalogues.
The French translator Victorine Ballon was one of the first to attempt the task of presenting Peter Rabbit in a new guise. Her Histoire de Pierre Lapin was the first of several versions of Potter‚Äôs works in French, followed by Histoire de Jeannot Lapin (London, ; 12800.a.56), translated in collaboration with Julienne Profichet, as were Histoire de Poupette-√†-l‚Äô√©pingle (London, ; 12800.a.57) and Histoire de Sophie Can√©tang (London, ; 12800.a.54). While Peter‚Äôs cousin Benjamin Bunny was rechristened as the typically French Jeannot, Jemima Puddle-Duck presented more of a problem. Ballon‚Äôs clever solution combined ‚Äėcaneton‚Äô (duckling) and ‚Äė√©tang‚Äô (pool), preceded by a first name recalling the French idiom ‚Äėfaire sa Sophie‚Äô, aptly suggesting the prim old-fashioned airs of Potter‚Äôs Jemima.
Young readers in Germany were soon able to enjoy Potter‚Äôs tales too with the appearance of Die Geschichte des Peterchen Hase, translated by Clara RoŐąhn and Ethel Talbot Scheffauer (London, ; 12800.a.69.). Before long Peter had been joined by his relatives the Flopsy Bunnies in Die Geschichte der Hasenfamilie Plumps, translated by Hildegarde M. E. Marchant (London, ; 12830.e.15), imagined by Paul Jennings as ‚Äėa lesser version of the Krupp dynasty, an endless succession of stern characters extending the family factories in the Ruhr‚Äô. When the same translator set to work on The Tale of Mr. Tod, she found a more straightforward solution, replacing the Cumbrian dialect word for a fox with a name recalling the mediaeval beast epic and Goethe‚Äôs Reineke Fuchs in Die Geschichte von Herrn Reineke.
Translations into Italian, Spanish, Dutch and Swedish also followed, issued, like the French and German ones, by Potter‚Äôs London publisher, Frederick Warne. Slavonic languages were slower to follow suit, and none are to be found in the British Library‚Äôs holdings, presumably because Warne did not publish any. But alongside the more familiar Western European languages, some surprises can be found. Who, for example, is mevrou Kornelia Kat, sunning herself on the stoep as she waits for her guests to join her for tea? Why, it is none other than Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit, mother of Tom Kitten (now Gertjie Kat ‚Äď short for Gerhardus) and his sisters Pootjies and Oortjies (Mittens and Moppet), mysteriously transported to the veld in an Afrikaans translation by Louise Promnitz (Cape Town, 1970; X.990/4885). The disobedient kittens come to grief after an encounter with the Puddle-Ducks: ‚Äėmeneer Hendrikus Plassie-Eend‚Äô, Rebekka and Meraai ‚Äď Jemima in the South African identity which she retains in her own story, Die Verhaal van Meraai Plassie-Eend, also translated by Promnitz (Cape Town, 1971; X.990/4883). Indeed, some of the earliest translations in the British Library‚Äôs collections are those into Afrikaans by Antoinette Elizabeth Carinus-Holzhausen, dating from the 1930s, where Benjamin Bunny features under a new alias in Die Verhaal van Bennie Blinkhaar (Pretoria, 1936; 12800.a.64) and Mrs Tittlemouse in Die Verhaal van Mevrou Piefkyn (Pretoria, ; 12800.a.66). Peter had already pipped them to the post in Die Verhaal van Pieter Konyntjie (London, ; 12800.a.65).
Closer to home, Welsh-speaking children were able to read the adventures of Jemima Puddle-Duck as Hanes Dili Minllyn, translated by ‚ÄėM.E.‚Äô (London, ; 12800.a.61), followed by those of Peter Rabbit, Hanes Pwtan y Wningen (London, ; 12800.a.62), an anonymous translation, and those of his cousin Benjamin Bunny, Hanes Benda Bynni (London, 1930; X.990/5922) by K. Olwen Rees, as well as Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle (Hanes Meistres Tigi-Dwt; London, ; 12800.a.63). More recently, just over a century after his first appearance in 1902, Peter Rabbit addressed the world in Scots, courtesy of Lynne McGeachie‚Äôs The Tale of Peter Kinnen (London, 2004; YK.2006.a.4550), in which the murderous ‚ÄėMaister McGreegor‚Äô finally gets to speak in his own ‚ÄėScots tung‚Äô as he pursues the intruder with a rake, ‚Äėwaggin a scartle an roarin oot, ‚ÄúStop briganner!‚ÄĚ‚Äô For those of a scholarly bent, there are even three Latin translations, Fabula Petro Cuniculo (London, 1962; 012845.g.28) by E. Walker and Fabula de Jemima Anate-Aquatica (London, 1965; 12846.t.15) by Jonathan Musgrave, and an anonymous Fabula de Domino Ieremia Piscatore (London, 1978; X.990/10193), where the characters speak in effortlessly Ciceronian language (even Dominus McGregor as he chases Peter with cries of ‚ÄėCessa, fur!‚Äô).
Though her marriage to William Heelis was childless, Beatrix Potter had a great love of her many young friends and correspondents (several of the books began as illustrated letters), and would no doubt have been delighted that her work was available to readers throughout the world. She never condescended in her use of language or compromised in the artistic quality of her illustrations for children‚Äôs books (C.S. Lewis, for example, in his autobiography Surprised by Joy ([London], 1959; 4921.cc.28), recalled those to The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin (London, 1903; Cup.402.a.5) as epitomizing the essence of autumn for him as a boy). On her 150th birthday, she would surely have wished to celebrate the efforts of those who had helped her creations to travel, like Pigling Bland, ‚Äėover the hills and far away‚Äô.
Susan Halstead Content Specialist (Humanities and Social Sciences), Research Engagement