An ornamental woodcut headpiece depicts a putto sitting atop ornate scrollwork, holding an open book.

Preface.

A decorative woodcut initial frame for the letter "I" features a bird perched on a branch next to a classical pedestal.
I could have been spared the trouble of writing a preface to these few sheets if I did not have to explain the intention of this translation more closely and indicate the viewpoint from which I wish for it to be judged.

In our days, the translators of ancient writers have found many friends, but also many critics; and even among the former, some seem to me to view the utility of such translations far too one-sidedly, because they will not speak a word for any that does not perfectly express the spirit of the original. It is true, a translation that could completely replace the original text would have an uncommonly great value. But where is it? And will we ever have such a translation to hope for? Cannot faithful translations, which say exactly what the author of the original text thought—even granting that they do not say it with the brevity and simplicity, nor with the splendor and beauty of their original—have a utility on the other hand, which one has perhaps too much misjudged until now? If they can serve to facilitate the reading and understanding of an original for beginners, will that not be a utility?