Translation, the theme of this volume, can be understood in different ways. The most obvious is the translation of a text from one language to another which, according to some recent approaches, involves not only the transition between two different language communities, but usually also that between different social and cultural milieus, and often means a functional change too.Footnote 1 This textual aspect of translation will be the primary focus of this article, which considers the translation of a late seventeenth-century German work, Leben Antichristi by Dionysius of Luxemburg, into Czech. A second aspect of translation that will be considered is that between two different media of text dissemination which functioned in parallel during this period, namely manuscript and print.
Before considering this text, it is important to be aware of the linguistic diversity in early modern Bohemia and Moravia. Even before the incorporation of the Czech lands, the Habsburg hereditary lands represented a multiethnic and multilingual entity, in which, however, German was pre-eminent. After the inclusion of Bohemia, Moravia, Silesia, Lusatia and Hungary in 1526 and Croatia in 1527, this generally German character of the empire was permanently lost: its non-German regions were not only geographically larger, but often also more densely populated.Footnote 2 The Czech lands had effectively been bilingual since the Middle Ages: although Czech was spoken at all levels of society, including the high aristocracy, and was the language of the provincial court and diet, there was also a significant German-speaking population.Footnote 3 During the sixteenth century, however, the proportion of German-speaking families amongst the ruling classes increased, and the areas inhabited by the German-speaking population gradually expanded.Footnote 4 In response, the Czech-speaking aristocracy and bourgeoisie secured legal provisions ensuring a leading role for their language in the Czech territories. In 1615, the provincial diet proclaimed Czech the exclusive language for all legal acts in the Czech lands, and demanded that recent immigrants who had been granted citizenship must teach their children Czech and that foreigners seeking citizenship had to learn the language first.Footnote 5 However, the rebellion of non-Catholic Czech estates against Habsburg rule in 1618 and their catastrophic defeat in battle at the White Mountain in 1620 brought an end not only to confessional toleration, but also to the leading role of the Czech language in Bohemia and Moravia. Although the new provincial legal code, issued in 1627 for Bohemia and in 1628 for Moravia, recognized German and Czech equally as the languages of government, in practice German became more significant in public life. This regulation, together with the forced re-Catholicization of the country, led to a significant reduction in Czech-speaking elites. The non-Catholic aristocracy and bourgeoisie who emigrated after 1620Footnote 6 were replaced by noble families who spoke German, Italian, Spanish or French. As a result, Czech lost its position as the language of elite culture and social intercourse. During the Thirty Years’ War, the German-speaking proportion of the population increased further.Footnote 7 Thus by the mid-eighteenth century the Czech speaking population represented only a minority among the aristocracy and well-off bourgeoisie, but a majority among petty bourgeoisie and lower orders.Footnote 8
In the post-White Mountain period, the international character of the new Catholic elites and the country's essentially bilingual (or even multilingual) character also manifested itself. It was not unusual for the same text to be published simultaneously in Czech, German and Latin; the Latin and to some extent the German versions were intended for a more educated audience. Moreover, many of the works published in Czech during this period were translations or adaptations from Latin, German, Spanish, French or Italian, although they were not always acknowledged as such. Veronika Čapská describes the early modern Czech Lands as a ‘space of translation flows . . . shaped by the circulation of books and the movement of social actors involved in the processes of translating, publishing, reading etc’.Footnote 9 She identifies three major ‘translation centres’: the Jesuit circle around Jiří Plachý-Ferus and Friedrich Bridel, mostly based in Prague; the exile pietist project Collegium Biblicum Bohemicum at Halle; and the private translation activities supported by the noble families of Sporck and Sweerts-Sporck. However, these were not the only translation activities carried out in early modern Bohemia and Moravia. Dozens of translators whose names and affiliations have now been lost translated innumerable devotional works into Czech and made them accessible to their less learned compatriots. Many of these translations were rather loose (today they would be regarded as adaptations) and often did not cite the original author or title of the translated work, but others did attempt to remain faithful to the earlier text. The unknown translators of Leben Antichristi belonged to the latter category.
To complicate matters, it is important to note that early modern texts were not only translated from one language into another, but also circulated in two different media, script and print. Until the 1990s, scholars tended to neglect the importance of manuscript dissemination of texts in the centuries after Gutenberg.Footnote 10 However, it is now clear that, until at least the mid-nineteenth century, some types of texts circulated more often in manuscript than in print. Furthermore, for various reasons, specific groups of authors and recipients preferred manuscript as the medium of dissemination for their texts. This preference may have owed something to questions of social origin, gender or aesthetics, or may have arisen for social, economic or religious reasons. Thanks to several recent projects cataloguing early modern manuscripts in Bohemia and Moravia,Footnote 11 the outlines of manuscript culture in early modern Bohemia have become more distinct.Footnote 12
We turn now to the Czech manuscript translation of the late seventeenth-century German printed book Leben Antichristi by the Capuchin, Dionysius of Luxemburg. The German and Czech versions will be considered as examples of translation, not only between different language communities, but also between different media of text transmission, and thus most probably also different socio-cultural groups. The aim of this discussion is to characterize the processes of these translations, and to consider why, unlike the German original, none of the three Czech versions was ever printed.
Dionysius of Luxemburg and his Leben Antichristi
In his study of the Antichrist legend and its history, Bernard McGinn judges the version provided by Dionysius of Luxemburg rather unfavourably, suggesting that it ‘adopts a folksy and moralizing tone that seems often childish in comparison either with the evident fear found in medieval treatises or the desire for scientific completeness found in Thomas Malvenda’.Footnote 13 Other modern readers might concur, or find themselves appalled by Dionysius's vivid descriptions with scenes full of dramatic detail and his tone, partly sensationalist and partly moralizing, familiar from modern tabloids. Nonetheless, his work was undoubtedly well suited for its target audience, as can be seen from its twelve editions.
Dionysius of Luxemburg was born, probably in 1652, in Luxemburg, to a poor family. In 1669 he entered the Rhineland Capuchins, subsequently studying philosophy and theology in Bingen and Mainz under the famous preacher and writer Benignus of Lohr, and later became a famous preacher himself. He lived in a number of the Capuchin houses of the Rhineland, including Mainz, Ehrenbreitstein and Trier, and also served as guardian in Worms, Bensheim and Cochem an der Mosel, where he died in 1703. Dionysius was a contemporary of, and knew personally, the prolific Capuchin author Martin of Cochem, whose popular works were successfully published in Czech.Footnote 14 Dionysius's Leben Antichristi may even have been intended to complement Martin's most notable work, Leben Christi oder außführliche, andächtige und bewegliche Beschreibung des Lebens und Leydens unsers Herrn Jesu Christi (Life of Christ, or complete, devout and inspiring Description of the Life and Suffering of our Lord Jesus Christ), first published in 1677. Although Dionysius was quite a prolific author of devotional books, he has been largely forgotten today.Footnote 15 If he is remembered at all, it is as a popular religious writer (religiöser Volksschriftsteller),Footnote 16 who intentionally used a simple prose style devoid of theological or philosophical niceties and rhetorical embellishments.Footnote 17 His works were typically intended to help parish priests to prepare sermons and to be used in catechesis, but Dionysius also envisaged ‘an ordinary man who hardly knows how to read’ as his readership.Footnote 18
Leben Antichristi was Dionysius's first printed work. It was first published in 1682 in Frankfurt am Main. Although it had received archiepiscopal and Capuchin approval, Dionysius seems to have been required to revise it. In 1683, a second edition appeared under a slightly altered title.Footnote 19 This revised version was the author's second most popular book, appearing in at least eleven editions by 1771.Footnote 20 The presence of copies in a number of European university and convent libraries suggests that it was read not only by its intended readership, but also by monks and other members of educated elites.Footnote 21
The Antichrist legend had proved popular amongst Franciscans almost since the foundation of their order, so it is unsurprising that Dionysius chose this theme.Footnote 22 His Leben Antichristi represents a continuation of the tradition which treated the Antichrist through a form of a biography or ‘reverse’ hagiography.Footnote 23 It proceeds more or less chronologically, starting with the birth of Antichrist and finishing with his death. The author describes each episode in great detail,Footnote 24 discussing for instance precisely how the Antichrist and his collaborators will perform their false miracles, and supporting his argument by quotations from Scripture and the Church Fathers. Most chapters conclude with an exhortation to pious readers to consider the differences between Christ and Antichrist, to amend their lives and to beware of the ultimate enemy's deception. The entire text endeavours to be strictly Catholic and socially conservative. Dionysius rejects any conceivable connection between Rome, pope and Antichrist and urges his readers not to rebel against their superiors. He seems genuinely concerned with the danger Antichrist may pose to simple souls and wants to equip them with the means to protect themselves. To ensure that they would not neglect his warnings, he seeks to present his material in a way that will capture his readers’ attention and touch their emotions.
The majority of sources which Dionysius quotes had never been translated into the vernacular. Thus his book can be considered a translation from scholarly discourse into the language of common people. The book even presents itself as a translation, providing information previously inaccessible to ordinary people in a language they can understand. To support this impression, lengthy bibliographical notes in Latin are provided at the end of each chapter (these also serve to defend the work against any suspicion on the part of learned opponents), representing the respected sources, inaccessible to the non-Latin reader, but here retold in the text.
Czech Manuscript Translations of Dionysius's Book
In the collections of Czech museums and libraries, three early modern manuscript translations of Leben Antichristi have so far been identified.Footnote 25 None is complete, but the losses are relatively minor, at most several pages at the beginning or at the end. None bears a date or the name of the translator. The earliest version, probably dating from the first third of the eighteenth century, is preserved in Josef Hylák's Museum, in the south-west Bohemian town of Radnice.Footnote 26 Its title closely follows that of the German original.Footnote 27 Unfortunately, the name of the translator, which originally appeared in the bottom right-hand corner of the title page, has been erased by readers handling the volume. However, the language used suggests that he may have lived in south-western Bohemia.
The second manuscript is today owned by the National Library of the Czech Republic in Prague (Klementinum).Footnote 28 Most of it was probably written in the mid-eighteenth century, but the beginning and end have been copied anew by another scribe who gave the volume an abbreviated title,Footnote 29 as well as signing and dating his work ‘w Knihnitzych dne 12 Prasynce 1824. Frantz Kautny’ (‘in Knínice,Footnote 30 12 December 1824. Franc Koutný’).Footnote 31 The language of this text indicates that it was created in Moravia.
The third and most recent manuscript can be found in the Dr. Hostaš Museum in Klatovy,Footnote 32 also in the south-west of Bohemia. It lacks the title page but the handwriting suggests that it is an early nineteenth-century copy of an older text. A note added by one of its owners indicates that he lived in Kladno.Footnote 33 The language of this translation also suggests that it was probably written in central Bohemia.
All three manuscripts are more or less fair copies which represent faithful translations of the German original, including some of the paratexts (imprimatur, preface, index etc.) and the bibliographical notes. The Radnice manuscript also includes marginal notes added by the translator, and the translator's preface and postscript.Footnote 34 However, these do not provide much information about him or his motivation, other than commenting that he was translating into the ‘Czech language’ and for the sake of Czech people. The translator also included the privilege of Emperor Leopold issued to the printer of the German version of the text. This appears in the manuscript, entitled ‘Privilegium Caesareum pro Spisowatele’ (‘Imperial Privilege for the Writer’),Footnote 35 suggesting that the text had been approved by the emperor himself and was thus beyond suspicion. The inclusion of this privilege shows that the translator used either the 1686 or the 1695 German edition, since editions printed after the emperor's death did not include it.
The scribe of the Klementinum manuscript also added his own postscripts to both parts of the book,Footnote 36 and probably also a preface to the first part which is now lost. In the postscripts, he briefly explains that he had translated the book for the sake of Moravians into the ‘Moravian language’ (which is quite close to standard Czech), emphasizes that he translated faithfully without adding anything of his own, and characterizes himself as an old man close to the end of his life.
We know least about the translator of the Klatovy manuscript: not only does it lack any paratexts, but it is also a later copy and thus even the date of this translation is uncertain. One unusual feature is that its translator moved most of the Latin bibliographical notes (except those referring to the Bible which he incorporated into the text) from the end of each chapter to the very end of the book, probably so as not to trouble the ordinary reader who could be expected to be less interested in this reference material.
German vs. Czech, Print vs. Manuscript
Despite its length (almost five hundred pages in print, seven hundred or more pages in manuscript), Leben Antichristi was translated into Czech in its entirety at least three times during the eighteenth century, in three different places and by three different translators. All the translators made efforts to be as faithful to the original as possible and introduced only minor changes, mostly aiming to facilitate understanding by the provision of such aids as marginal notes, prefaces and postscripts. At least two of the versions bear visible traces of their readers’ ongoing interest at the beginning of the nineteenth century or even later. All this shows that there was a long-term demand for Czech versions of the book, and yet for some reason it was never published. This lack of printed versions is in contrast to the major works of Dionysius's Capuchin brother Martin of Cochem. Although the style and content of Martin's works were similar to those of the Leben Antichristi, his works were printed in Czech from an early date and were often reissued in new editions.Footnote 37
It is impossible to know whether any of the three translators attempted to get their work printed. Although the Radnice manuscript looks like a fair copy which could have been presented for censorship, its binding is seriously damaged; if there were ever any traces of censorship, they are now lost. In contrast, the Klementinum manuscript includes an undated Latin assessment by a censor, the chancellor of Trnava University, Ján Príleský SJ, which must have been written some time between 1747 and 1764.Footnote 38 It is unclear why this manuscript was sent to Trnava. As it was written in Moravia it would have been more logical for it to have been sent to Brno, from where it would have been referred to the bishop of Olomouc and then the Jesuit professors at the University of Olomouc. Possibly the translator hoped for a more favourable reception in Trnava, because the Hungarian part of the empire operated rather independently.Footnote 39 However, Príleský refused to recommend the translation for publication, citing several reasons, mostly to do with the content of the book (even though it was identical to the German version printed repeatedly in Vienna during this period), and adding: ‘and finally, because the Life includes these numerous obscure and uncertain things, which I do not deem suitable to be discussed publicly in a vernacular language’.Footnote 40 This would be understandable if the original had been written in Latin, but Príleský is assessing a vernacular translation of another vernacular text. It suggests that he may have considered one language (Czech) to be ‘more vernacular’ than another (German). This appears to confirm the often repeated, but rarely documented, thesis that the nobility and bougeoisie were contemptuous of the Czech language.Footnote 41 The majority of Czech speakers were probably regarded as rustic, uneducated and unable to understand the message of such a difficult text correctly. Furthermore, censorship in the Habsburg Empire, organized by the state but directed by the bishops and carried out by the Jesuits, was designed to control the reading of popular classes and the so-called ‘naive readers’ by equipping them with printed material which would cultivate and educate them, while simultaneously protecting them against the danger of confusion or moral corruption brought about by bad reading matter. From this point of view, it is not surprising that Dionysius's text, aimed at a popular readership was regarded as dangerous, the more so when provided in a language which, in the eyes of the censors, lacked educated speakers.Footnote 42
However, the German editions of Leben Antichristi seem never to have been censored in the Habsburg Empire, and they were always published with the imprimatur which originally appeared in the second, Frankfurt edition. This is rather surprising, as one of the tasks of the Austrian censors during the second half of the eighteenth century was to recensor previously censored works if the official attitude to certain types of text changed. Moreover, from 1716, the law required that each printed book include a confirmation that it had been approved.Footnote 43 That this regulation was not strictly observed can be demonstrated from the Vienna editions of Leben Antichristi. Similarly, the Czech translation of Martin's Leben Christi was published without an imprimatur, but only with a protestatio translatoris that his translation was faithful to the original text, which had also never been subject to censorship in the Habsburg Empire.Footnote 44 Thus there must have been ways of getting books of this nature printed without the censors’ approval. Perhaps the Czech version of the life of Antichrist was too suspicious even for them, or perhaps it was simply too voluminous for the small regional presses that published such material, often with a false imprint.
An additional problem may have been that none of the translators of the Leben Antichristi belonged to one of the ‘translation projects’ identified by Čapská. On the other hand, the very existence of these manuscripts, together with the translation of Martin's Leben Christi by the Capuchin Edelbert Nymburský, suggests the possibility of a smaller but distinct Capuchin translation initiative. Unfortunately, the literary activities of Czech Capuchins have not so far been analysed, and the most comprehensive catalogue of Czech printed books up to 1800, Knihopis, does not register the affiliation of individual authors to religious orders.Footnote 45
A final factor could explain the authorities’ unwillingness to allow the Czech translation to be published: the region's ‘heretical’ past. The Hussite movement of the early fifteenth century had led to nearly two hundred years during which Catholicism was severely challenged in the Czech lands. The memory of this past was directly related to the Antichrist theme, for, according to McGinn, ‘the Hussites played a key role in the history of the Antichrist legend’.Footnote 46 Although they were not the first to identify the papacy with Antichrist – that had been Wyclif, who inspired Jan Hus – McGinn suggests that ‘it was among the radical Hussites that this new moment in Antichrist's story became a part of a revolutionary ideology that encouraged overthrowing the social and religious order’.Footnote 47 Moreover, and as in Germany,Footnote 48 the theme of the Antichrist had been amply represented in Czech-language Reformation polemics throughout the sixteenth century and into the seventeenth.Footnote 49 It would not be surprising if the memory of the propensity of ‘notoriously heretic Czechs’ to treat this theme in a heterodox way, together with the inclination of at least a part of the religious elites in the second half of the eighteenth century not to add fuel to old confessional polemics, had rung alarm bells, even over a century after the allegedly complete re-Catholicization of the rebellious land, and despite the strictly Catholic and conservative tendency of Dionysius's work.
The explanations so far suggested for the lack of Czech print editions of Leben Antichristi have been based on the specific historical circumstances which shaped relations between German and Czech language and literature in the Czech lands at the time when Dionysius's text was translated. However, there is also another possibility, namely to treat this text as an example of a transfer of a specific textual type between two different language communities: one larger and stronger and the other noticeably smaller and weaker, perceiving the language of the source community as more prestigious and socially superior than its own. It is possible that the process of double translation, between two different languages and media, as illustrated in the case of Leben Antichristi, may reflect a broader tendency. Such double translations seem likely to have occurred when a specific type of text (particularly one which is problematic in some respect, e. g. not entirely orthodox, or highly intellectual) migrates between such communities. This hypothesis is suggested by another translation of Leben Antichristi, a Slovenian manuscript translation originally produced in 1767 by a village scholar, Matija Žegar, with the title Antichrsta Shivllenie ali Leben Antechrista.Footnote 50 This was popular not only in Žegar's native region of Carinthia, but also in Upper and Lower Carniola, in the Pohorje Mountains and in Ljubljana. Copies of Antichrsta Shivllenie continued to be produced until the first half of the nineteenth century. Despite its popularity and wide circulation in manuscript (at least fourteen copies or adaptations are known so far),Footnote 51 this translation was also never printed. These two cases of unpublished double translation, Czech and Slovenian, may of course be regarded as coincidence, but it is striking that both are examples of similar processes with similar outcomes.
Conclusion
The theme of the Antichrist and his coming at the end of time has been popular in many epochs.Footnote 52 It has been treated by many different authors, with very different aims and using different genres ranging from prophecies, theological tracts or commentaries to sacred texts, drama, poems, paintings or – today – films. In the course of history, some of these works were accessible only to educated elites, while others aimed at a more popular readership. As this article has demonstrated, the translation of some of these works into other languages sometimes encountered difficulties. This was particularly true when these texts were aimed at a popular audience. Furthermore, there was a linguistic hierarchy which meant that certain languages were perceived differently by the elites.
Dionysius of Luxemburg translated this sensitive subject from the learned languages of Latin and Greek into German and succeeded in satisfying the authorities (to the extent that they did not ban his work) and enthusing his general audience. However, the three anonymous translators of his work into Czech did not see their texts printed. Nonetheless, their translations became constituent parts of the manuscript culture of the early modern Czech lands and were preserved, read, copied and reworked by their successors.Footnote 53 Their work apparently attracted interest and was clearly appreciated, albeit by a more limited circle of readers or listeners. Although these translations were not published, they circulated in manuscript and met the needs of their intended audience. The question remains: how should we interpret and assess this simultaneous shift in language and medium? Is it an outcome of specific historical circumstances to do with the relationship between Czech and German language communities in the early modern Habsburg Empire, or is it pure historical coincidence? Or does it illustrate a general tendency, characteristic of the translation of specific texts between two language communities of uneven strength and prestige? At present this question cannot be answered with any certainty. However, these German and Czech (and Slovenian) versions of Leben Antichristi provide a useful starting point for further discussion and reflection on these themes.
