Traduce

Traduce (pronounced truh-doos or truh-dyoos)

(1) To malign a person or entity by making malicious and/or false or defamatory statements; slander; libel; defame.

(2) To pass on (to one's children, future generations etc.); to transmit (archaic).

(3) To pass into another form of expression; to rephrase, to translate (archaic).

1525–1535: From the Latin trādūcō (lead as a spectacle, dishonor), from trādūcere (to lead over, transmit, disgrace), a variant of trānsdūcere (to transfer, display, expose), the construct being tra- (from the preposition trāns (through, across, beyond)) + dūcere (to lead).  Synonyms include vilify, decry & disparage.  The Latin trādūcere was from the Proto-Italic tranzdoukō and cognates included the Italian tradurre and the French traduire.  The noun transduction (act of leading or carrying over) is from the 1650s, from the Latin transductionem & traducionem (nominative transductio) (a removal, transfer), noun of action from the past-participle stem of transducere & traducere (change over, convert) which also picked up the meaning "lead in parade, make a show of, dishonor, disgrace".  Traduce, traduction, traduced & traducing are verbs, traducement & traducer are nouns, traducingly is an adverb and traducible is an adjective; the most common noun plural is traducements.

To be traduced in speech or in writing (historically treated in English (and related) legal systems respectively as libel and slander but some systems have reformed their rules and now treat all as just the single concept of defamation) can allow the victim to seek redress through legal process, the available remedies including retractions, apologies and damages by way of financial compensation.  Also available is the injunction to prevent publication and what has become popular in some jurisdictions in the (secret) secret injunction, a device whereby (1) publication is denied, (2) all details of the matter (names of the parties or even an allusion to the nature of the proscribed material) and (3) the very fact any injunction has been granted is kept secret.

Mostly a thing of civil law, in some jurisdictions there’s still the offence of criminal defamation but its very existence is now less common and use seldom.  Criminal defamation exists when someone publishes defamatory material knowing it is, or not caring if it is, false with the intention to, or not having regard to whether it will, cause serious harm to the victim or any other person is guilty of a crime.  In most cases, the same defenses available in a civil action can be used in a criminal matter; a criminal charge does not preclude civil action being taken for the same publication.  The matter of truth is interesting.  In the United States, truth is an absolute defense to an action for defamation.  As many have found out, that doesn’t mean there aren’t in the US consequences for publishing something defamatory but the action taken will not be on grounds of libel or slander.  Although it seems strange to many, truth isn’t an absolute defense in many jurisdictions but it can be a matter raised in mitigation so that even if a judgment is delivered against a defendant, the damages awarded may be nominal.

Publish and be damned

Although there’s always been a suspicion a ghost writer may have helped a bit in matters of style, the content of Harriette Wilson’s (1786–1845) book The Memoirs of Harriette Wilson: Written by Herself was all her own.  First published in 1825, it was a best seller and thought topical enough to deserve a re-print a century later, it’s notable still for having one of the finest opening lines of any auto-biography ever published:

"I shall not say how and why I became, at the age of fifteen, the mistress of the Earl of Craven."

The cover of some of the French editions were more alluring than those sold in England.

However much the tales of Regency’s most revealing courtesan may have delighted readers, there was one not so happy.  In the mail one morning in December 1824, Arthur Wellesley (1st Duke of Wellington; 1769–1852, UK prime-minister 1828-1830) the famous soldier who led the coalition of armies which defeated Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821; leader of the French Republic 1799-1804 & Emperor of the French from 1804-1814 & 1815) at Waterloo in 1815, found a letter from the publisher John Joseph Stockdale (circa 1775-1847) which can’t have been pleasant reading.  Stockdale was attempting blackmail, advising the duke he was about to publish Miss Wilson’s revelations which contained “various anecdotes” of Wellington which “it would be most desirable to withhold” and that could be arranged were payment to be made.

Duke of Wellington (1816) by Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769-1830).

The duke's response was the famous “Publish and be damned!” reputedly scrawled across Stockdale’s letter and sent to him by return mail.  Publish Stockdale did, the book, a romp through the beds of the aristocracy appearing by installments before appearing in bookshops where it scandalized and thrilled London society although it would have been more salacious still had more of Stockdale’s blackmail victims had the fortitude of the iron duke and refused to pay.  An instant best-seller, the book went through thirty-one printings in a year and pirated copies were on-sale all over the continent but even without revenue from overseas sales the book was lucrative although the Stockdale was soon ruined by libel suits from those whose reputations had been traduced and Miss Wilson would eventually die in obscurity.

Riveting reading it may have been but so many of the libel actions against Stockdale were able to succeed in English courts because of the many errors of detail and chronology but historians nevertheless agree the narrative is substantially a reliable track of Miss Wilson’s adventures even if the sequence of events is sometimes misleading; to be fair, she had so many affairs it would be churlish not to allow for a little vagueness of recollection, one man presumably much the same as another after a while.  Whether “Publish and be damned!” in the duke’s own hand was ever written across the letter and sent back has never been confirmed because the original apparently hasn’t survived but there’s enough evidence from contemporaries to leave no doubt he certainly spoke the words but whatever she wrote of her time with Wellington, it must have been sufficiently truthful to convince the duke not to issue a writ for libel, despite at the time having threatened to sue “...if such rubbish is published”.

His marriage was already unhappy and the disclosures probably little surprised the duchess and the union endured until her death while the book clearly did no lasting harm to the duke's public reputation, the hero of Waterloo afforded some latitude in pre-Victorian England.  Within a decade of publication he would be prime minister and when he died in 1852, he was again a national hero and granted a state funeral, a rare distinction in England, unlike Australia where they’re given to reasonably successful football coaches and television personalities.  The phrase “Publish and be damned!” entered the language and was in 1953 used as the title of a book detailing the history of the Daily Mirror newspaper, a tabloid which once had its own interesting history.

To keep track of one's traductions, it's recommended a burn book be maintained.  Introduced to the world in Mean Girls (2004), "burn" in this context was used in the sense of "an insult, a disparaging statement" and, depending on one's motives, a burn book can either focus exclusively on one individual worthy of being burned (eg crooked Hillary Clinton) or be devoted to a villainous group (eg the Republican Party).  One of the attractions of a burn book is that nothing, however scurrilous, need be verified and heresy evidence is admissible (indeed it's probably obligatory).  Thus, accusations against someone of stuff like voting Tory, belonging to the Freemasons, enjoying sexual relations with certain vegetables & fruits (all three perhaps not unrelated), substance abuse or hoarding all belong in a burn book and, if selectively and anonymously leaked, reputations will be traduced.  The other utility a burn book offers is that nothing gets forgotten however great the volume, an important point for any traducer who likely will find someone like crooked Hillary will attract hundreds of entries.  Surely, Harriette Wilson kept a burn book.

Politicians do maintain burn books although few are much discussed.  Richard Nixon's (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974) "enemies list" became famous in 1973 when it emerged during congressional hearings enquiring into the Watergate break-in and that such a list existed surprised few although some did expect it to contain more names than the twenty included; it was common knowledge Nixon had many more enemies than that.  That view was vindicated when later lists were revealed (some containing hundreds of names) though had the net been cast a little wider, it could well have run to thousands.  At least one Eurocrat has also admitted to keeping a burn book although Jean-Claude Juncker (b 1954; president of the European Commission 2014-2019) calls his "little black book" Le Petit Maurice (little Maurice), the name apparently a reference to a contemporary from his school days who grew taller than the youthful Jean-Claude and seldom neglected to mention it.  Although maintained for some thirty years (including the eighteen spent as prime-minister of Luxembourg) to record the identities of those who crossed him, Mr Junker noted with some satisfaction it wasn't all that full because people “rarely betray me”, adding “I am not vengeful, but I have a good memory.”   It seems his warning “Be careful.  Little Maurice is waiting for you” was sufficient to ward of the betrayal and low skulduggery for which the corridors of EU institutions are renowned.