On the other hand, Rabelais has been several times translated into German.  In the present century Regis published at Leipsic, from 1831 to 1841, with copious notes, a close and faithful translation.  The first one cannot be so described, that of Johann Fischart, a native of Mainz or Strasburg, who died in 1614.  He was a Protestant controversialist, and a satirist of fantastic and abundant imagination.  In 1575 appeared his translation of Rabelais’ first book, and in 1590 he published the comic catalogue of the library of Saint Victor, borrowed from the second book.  It is not a translation, but a recast in the boldest style, full of alterations and of exaggerations, both as regards the coarse expressions which he took upon himself to develop and to add to, and in the attacks on the Roman Catholic Church.  According to Jean Paul Richter, Fischart is much superior to Rabelais in style and in the fruitfulness of his ideas, and his equal in erudition and in the invention of new expressions after the manner of Aristophanes.  He is sure that his work was successful, because it was often reprinted during his lifetime; but this enthusiasm of Jean Paul would hardly carry conviction in France.  Who treads in another’s footprints must follow in the rear.  Instead of a creator, he is but an imitator.  Those who take the ideas of others to modify them, and make of them creations of their own, like Shakespeare in England, Moliere and La Fontaine in France, may be superior to those who have served them with suggestions; but then the new works must be altogether different, must exist by themselves.  Shakespeare and the others, when they imitated, may be said always to have destroyed their models.  These copyists, if we call them so, created such works of genius that the only pity is they are so rare.  This is not the case with Fischart, but it would be none the less curious were some one thoroughly familiar with German to translate Fischart for us, or at least, by long extracts from him, give an idea of the vagaries of German taste when it thought it could do better than Rabelais.  It is dangerous to tamper with so great a work, and he who does so runs a great risk of burning his fingers.

England has been less daring, and her modesty and discretion have brought her success.  But, before speaking of Urquhart’s translation, it is but right to mention the English-French Dictionary of Randle Cotgrave, the first edition of which dates from 1611.  It is in every way exceedingly valuable, and superior to that of Nicot, because instead of keeping to the plane of classic and Latin French, it showed an acquaintance with and mastery of the popular tongue as well as of the written and learned language.  As a foreigner, Cotgrave is a little behind in his information.  He is not aware of all the changes and novelties of the passing fashion.  The Pleiad School he evidently knew nothing of, but kept to the writers of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century.