With the works of Baltasar Gracián all sorts of abuses of interpretation have already been committed, so far as to having marketed an English translation of the Oráculo manual y arte de prudencia (The art of worldly wisdom) at the top of The New York Times’ list of bestsellers as a breviary for managers to succeed in the cutthroat world of business.
We have thought to have found this summer the most decontextualized Gracián quotation one can imagine, on the menu of a bar of the Café-Café chain in the downtown of Lwów. It was a polyglot menu, basically in English, but with the Spanish word “plato” repeated in almost every item, plus with the Ukrainian transliteration of the name of our author – Baltazar Hrasiyan – under the hedonistic sentence given into his mouth. The affection of Lwów for everything Spanish, extending to Latin America, is certainly remarkable. For example, in the same café (and in five more in the old town of Lwów) milongas are sung and tangos danced regularly. And there is even a pizzeria with such a genuinely Spanish name as Pepito (Пиццерия Пепито).
Die Leidenschaft färbt alles, was sie berührt, mit ihren Farben is an approximate translation of a phrase from aphorism 80 (“Take care to get information”) from The art of worldly wisdom: “the passions tinge truth with their colours wherever they touch her”.
Well, yesterday Aurora Egido, the uncrowned queen of Gracián scholarship, proving once again that nothing which has to do with Gracián is alien to her, has sent to us this stunning German ad of the Lancia Voyager car brand, which represents one step further in the contemporary metamorphosis of the Jesuit author. This time he has been crudely turned into an author of romantic novels. This passionate composition would be a fine illustration of any text of Corín Tellado, Danielle Steel or anyone else of this genre. But this is the way of fame, and who knows which puns and witticisms all this would have raised in the author of El Criticón.
80. Take care to get information. We live by information, not by sight. We exist by faith in others. The ear is the area-gate of truth but the front-door of lies. The truth is generally seen, rarely heard; seldom she comes in elemental purity, especially from afar; there is always some admixture of the moods of those through whom she has passed. The passions tinge her with their colours wherever they touch her, sometimes favourably, sometimes the reverse. She always brings out the disposition, therefore receive her with caution from him that blames. Pay attention to the intention of the speaker; you should know beforehand on what footing he comes. Let reflection assay falsity and exaggeration.
Couldn't decipher "masalynamy" but it looks like in the local tongue, they may have two different words which both translate into English as olives?
ResponderEliminarGreat mystery. The (obviously) machine translation has also “olives and olives” in the upper item, so there must be two different words in the original, too. The one is surely маслина, as in Ukrainian it should be the same as in Russian (why is it transcribed as masalyna?) but what is the other? I’m sorry for having not photographed the Ukrainian menu. Within some weeks I’ll be back to Lwów, and then I will check it.
ResponderEliminarIn common Russian, as well as in Ukrainian, there is distinction between black olives (masliny or maslyny) and green ones (olivki or olyvky). I think that Ukrainian transcription "masalyna" in the menu is just a mistake.
ResponderEliminarThank you for the information! How interesting they have two different words for the two colors. Do you know the reason? Is it the same in Polish, too?
ResponderEliminarYes, it really interesting. The black olives are called маслины (masliny) because olive oil масло(maslo) is pressed from them. They are so ripe that is possible to do it.
ResponderEliminarThe distinction is also connected with geographical location. "Маслина" (Maslina)is the older term in Russian than "оливка" (olivka) or "олива" (oliva)and came to Russia together with fruit from Greece via the Balkans in the Middle Ages. In Greece and Turkey olives were eaten (and still they are) mostly in the ripe form, so as the black olives. The term "maslina" was known in Old Church Slavonic and in the South Slavic languages, except Slovenian. Therefore the black olives came to Russia from Greece via the Balkans together with that South Slavic term. In turn, the green olives are eaten mostly in the western part of the Mediterranean (e.g. France, Italy, Spain), so the Russian names оливка (olivka) or олива (oliva) have their origins probably in Italian.
In Polish there is no distinction in the names of green and black olives. They are simply called "zielone oliwki" (green olives) and "czarne oliwki" (black olives). However in the 19th century, especially in the eastern regions of the former Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth (i.e. Kresy), it was used the term "maslina" for the black olive. But it was just an effect of Russian influence on the Polish language in that epoch.
It makes sense, thanks. Although vegetable oil is "oliya" in Ukrainian (rather than "maslo" like in Russian and before that. Slavonic), the old Slavonic terms for olives might have survived anyway. And since olives of any color were nonexistent in Soviet times, the names for them may be very recent, owing more to the whim of the modern brands and marketers than to the past usage. But if the black and green ones did go their separate ways, then what would be a kalamata?
ResponderEliminarKalamata? They are puprple and they are harvested as fully ripe. So, they are... black. :)
ResponderEliminarThe name for olive in Romanian is măslină, for both black and green olives.
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