ΟΜΗΡΟΣ
THE ILIAD OF HOMER.
Tranſlated by Mr. POPE.
LONDON: Printed by W. BOWYER, for BERNARD LINTOTT be⯑tween the Temple-Gates, 1715.
PREFACE.
[]HOMER is univerſally allow'd to have had the greateſt Invention of any Writer whatever. The Praiſe of Judgment Vir⯑gil has juſtly conteſted with him, and others may have their Pretenſions as to particular Excellencies; but his Invention remains yet unrival'd. Nor is it a Wonder if he has ever been acknowledg'd the greateſt of Poets, who moſt excell'd in That which is the very Foundation of Poetry. It is the Inven⯑tion that in different degrees diſtinguiſhes all great Genius's: The utmoſt Stretch of hu⯑man Study, Learning, and Induſtry, which ma⯑ſters every thing beſides, can never attain to this. It furniſhes Art with all her Materials, and without it Judgment itſelf can at beſt but ſteal wiſely: For Art is only like a prudent Steward that lives on managing the Riches of Nature. Whatever Praiſes may be given to Works of Judgment, there is not even a ſingle Beauty in them but is owing to the Invention: As in the moſt regular Gardens, however Art may carry the greateſt Appearance, there is not [] a Plant or Flower but is the Gift of Nature. The firſt can only reduce the Beauties of the latter into a more obvious Figure, which the common Eye may better take in, and is therefore more entertain'd with. And perhaps the reaſon why moſt Criticks are inclin'd to prefer a judicious and methodical Genius to a great and fruitful one, is, becauſe they find it eaſier for themſelves to purſue their Obſervations through an uniform and bounded Walk of Art, than to comprehend the vaſt and various Extent of Nature.
Our Author's Work is a wild Paradiſe, where if we cannot ſee all the Beauties ſo diſtinctly as in an order'd Garden, it is only becauſe the Num⯑ber of them is infinitely greater. 'Tis like a co⯑pious Nurſery which contains the Seeds and firſt Productions of every kind, out of which thoſe who follow'd him have but ſelected ſome parti⯑cular Plants, each according to his Fancy, to cul⯑tivate and beautify. If ſome things are too luxu⯑riant, it is owing to the Richneſs of the Soil; and if others are not arriv'd to Perfection or Ma⯑turity, it is only becauſe they are over-run and oppreſt by thoſe of a ſtronger Nature.
It is to the Strength of this amazing Inven⯑tion we are to attribute that unequal'd Fire and Rapture, which is ſo forcible in Homer, that no Man of a true Poetical Spirit is Maſter of him⯑ſelf while he reads him. What he writes is of the moſt animated Nature imaginable; every thing moves, every thing lives, and is put in [] Action. If a Council be call'd, or a Battel fought, you are not coldly inform'd of what was ſaid or done as from a third Perſon; the Reader is hur⯑ry'd out of himſelf by the Force of the Poet's Imagination, and turns in one place to a Hearer, in another to a Spectator. The Courſe of his Verſes reſembles that of the Army he deſcribes,‘ [...]’ They pour along like a Fire that ſweeps the whole Earth before it. 'Tis however remarkable that his Fancy, which is every where vigorous, is not diſcover'd immediately at the beginning of his Poem in its fulleſt Splendor: It grows in the Progreſs both upon himſelf and others, and be⯑comes on Fire like a Chariot-Wheel, by its own Rapidity. Exact Diſpoſition, juſt Thought, cor⯑rect Elocution, poliſh'd Numbers, may have been found in a thouſand; but this Poetical Fire, this Vivida vis animi, in a very few. Even in Works where all thoſe are imperfect or neglected, this can over-power Criticiſm, and make us admire even while we diſ-approve. Nay, where this appears, tho' attended with Abſurdities, it brigh⯑tens all the Rubbiſh about it, 'till we ſee nothing but its own Splendor. This Fire is diſcern'd in Virgil, but diſcern'd as through a Glaſs, refle⯑cted, and more ſhining than warm, but every where equal and conſtant: In Lucan and Statius, it burſts out in ſudden, ſhort, and interrupted Flaſhes: In Milton, it glows like a Furnace kept [] up to an uncommon Fierceneſs by the Force of Art: In Shakeſpear, it ſtrikes before we are aware, like an accidental Fire from Heaven: But in Homer, and in him only, it burns every where clearly, and every where irreſiſtibly.
I ſhall here endeavour to ſhow, how this vaſt Invention exerts itſelf in a manner ſuperior to that of any Poet, thro' all the main conſtituent Parts of his Work, as it is the great and peculiar Cha⯑racteriſtick which diſtinguiſhes him from all other Authors.
This ſtrong and ruling Faculty was like a powerful Planet, which in the Violence of its Courſe, drew all things within its Vortex. It ſeem'd not enough to have taken in the whole Circle of Arts, and the whole Compaſs of Na⯑ture; all the inward Paſſions and Affections of Mankind to ſupply this Characters, and all the outward Forms and Images of Things for his Deſcriptions; but wanting yet an ampler Sphere to expatiate in, he open'd a new and boundleſs Walk for his Imagination, and created a World for himſelf in the Invention of Fable. That which Ariſtotle calls the Soul of Poetry, was firſt breath'd into it by Homer. I ſhall begin with conſidering him in this Part, as it is naturally the firſt, and I ſpeak of it both as it means the Deſign of a Poem, and as it is taken for Fiction.
Fable may be divided into the Probable, the Allegorical, and the Marvelous. The Probable [] Fable is the Recital of ſuch Actions as tho' they did not happen, yet might, in the com⯑mon courſe of Nature: Or of ſuch as tho' they did, become Fables by the additional Epiſodes and manner of telling them. Of this ſort is the main Story of an Epic Poem, the Return of Ulyſſes, the Settlement of the Trojans in Italy, or the like. That of the Iliad is the Anger of Achilles, the moſt ſhort and ſingle Subject that ever was choſen by any Poet. Yet this he has ſupplied with a vaſter Variety of In⯑cidents and Events, and crouded with a greater Number of Councils, Speeches, Battles, and Epi⯑ſodes of all kinds, than are to be found even in thoſe Poems whoſe Schemes are of the utmoſt Latitude and Irregularity. The Action is hurry'd on with the moſt vehement Spirit, and its whole Duration employs not ſo much as fifty Days. Virgil, for want of ſo warm a Genius, aided himſelf by taking in a more extenſive Subject, as well as a greater Length of Time, and con⯑tracting the Deſign of both Homer's Poems into one, which is yet but a fourth part as large as his. The other Epic Poets have us'd the ſame Practice, but generally carry'd it ſo far as to ſuperinduce a Multiplicity of Fables, deſtroy the Unity of Action, and loſe their Readers in an unreaſonable Length of Time. Nor is it only in the main Deſign that they have been unable to add to his Invention, but they have follow'd him in every Epiſode and Part of Story. If he has [] given a regular Catalogue of an Army, they all draw up their Forces in the ſame Order. If he has funeral Games for Patroclus, Virgil has the ſame for Anchiſes, and Statius (rather than omit them) deſtroys the Unity of his Action for thoſe of Archemorus. If Ulyſſes viſit the Shades, the Aeneas of Virgil and Scipio of Silius are ſent after him. If he be detain'd from his Return by the Allurements of Calypſo, ſo is Aeneas by Dido, and Rinaldo by Armida. If Achilles be abſent from the Army on the Score of a Quarrel thro' half the Poem, Rinaldo muſt abſent him⯑ſelf juſt as long, on the like account. If he gives his Heroe a Suit of celeſtial Armour, Vir⯑gil and Taſſo make the ſame Preſent to theirs. Virgil has not only obſerv'd this cloſe Imitation of Homer, but where he had not led the way, ſupply'd the Want from other Greek Authors. Thus the Story of Sinon and the Taking of Troy was copied (ſays Macrobius) almoſt word for word from Piſander, as the Loves of Dido and Aeneas are taken from thoſe of Medaea and Jaſon in Apollonius, and ſeveral others in the ſame manner.
To proceed to the Allegorical Fable: If we reflect upon thoſe innumerable Knowledges, thoſe Secrets of Nature and Phyſical Philoſophy which Homer is generally ſuppos'd to have wrapt up in his Allegories, what a new and ample Scene of Wonder may this Conſideration afford us? How fertile will that Imagination appear, which was [] able to cloath all the Properties of Elements, the Qualifications of the Mind, the Virtues and Vices, in Forms and Perſons; and to introduce them into Actions agreeable to the Nature of the Things they ſhadow'd? This is a Field in which no ſuc⯑ceeding Poets could diſpute with Homer; and whatever Commendations have been allow'd them on this Head, are by no means for their Invention in having enlarg'd his Circle, but for their Judg⯑ment in having contracted it. For when the Mode of Learning chang'd in following Ages, and Science was deliver'd in a plainer manner, it then became as reaſonable in the more modern Poets to lay it aſide, as it was in Homer to make uſe of it. And perhaps it was no un⯑happy Circumſtance for Virgil, that there was not in his Time that Demand upon him of ſo great an Invention, as might be capable of fur⯑niſhing all thoſe Allegorical Parts of a Poem.
The Marvelous Fable includes whatever is ſu⯑pernatural, and eſpecially the Machines of the Gods. If Homer was not the firſt who introduc'd the Deities (as Herodotus imagines) into the Re⯑ligion of Greece, he ſeems the firſt who brought them into a Syſtem of Machinery for Poetry, and ſuch an one as makes its greateſt Importance and Dignity. For we find thoſe Authors who have been offended at the literal Notion of the Gods, conſtantly laying their Accuſation againſt Homer as the undoubted Inventor of them. But whatever cauſe there might be to blame his Ma⯑chines [] in a Philoſophical or Religious View, they are ſo perfect in the Poetick, that Mankind have been ever ſince contented to follow them: None have been able to enlarge the Sphere of Poetry beyond the Limits he has ſet: Every Attempt of this Nature has prov'd unſucceſsful; and after all the various Changes of Times and Religions, his Gods continue to this Day the Gods of Poetry.
We come now to the Characters of his Perſons, and here we ſhall find no Author has ever drawn ſo many with ſo viſible and ſurprizing a Variety, or given us ſuch lively and affecting Impreſſions of them. Every one has ſomething ſo ſingularly his own, that no Painter could have diſtinguiſh'd them more by their Features, than the Poet has by their Manners. Nothing can be more exact than the Diſtinctions he has obſerv'd in the diffe⯑rent degrees of Virtues and Vices. The ſingle Quality of Courage is wonderfully diverſify'd in the ſeveral Characters of the Iliad. That of Achilles is furious and intractable; that of Diomede forward, yet liſtening to Advice and ſubject to Command: We ſee in Ajax an heavy and ſelf⯑conſidering Valour, in Hector an active and vigi⯑lant one: The Courage of Agamemnon is inſpi⯑rited by Love of Empire and Ambition, that of Menelaus mix'd with Softneſs and Tenderneſs for his People: We find in Idomeneus a plain direct Soldier, in Sarpedon a gallant and generous one. Nor is this judicious and aſtoniſhing Diverſity to [] be found only in the principal Quality which con⯑ſtitutes the Main of each Character, but even in the Under-parts of it, to which he takes care to give a Tincture of that principal one. For Ex⯑ample, the main Characters of Ulyſſes and Neſtor conſiſt in Wiſdom, and they are diſtinct in this; the Wiſdom of one is artificial and various, of the other natural, open, and regular. But they have, beſides, Characters of Courage; and this Quality alſo takes a different Turn in each from the dif⯑ference of his Prudence: For one in the War de⯑pends ſtill upon Caution, the other upon Expe⯑rience. It would be endleſs to produce Inſtances of theſe Kinds. The Characters of Virgil are far from ſtriking us in this open manner; they lie in a great degree hidden and undiſtinguiſh'd, and where they are mark'd moſt evidently, affect us not in proportion to thoſe of Homer. His Cha⯑racters of Valour are much alike; even that of Turnus ſeems no way peculiar but as it is in a ſuperior degree; and we ſee nothing that diffe⯑rences the Courage of Mneſtheus from that of Ser⯑geſthus, Cloanthus, or the reſt. In like manner it may be remark'd of Statius's Heroes, that an Air of Impetuoſity runs thro' them all; the ſame hor⯑rid and ſavage Courage appears in his Capaneus, Tydeus, Hippomedon, &c. They have a Parity of Character which makes them ſeem Brothers of one Family. I believe when the Reader is led into this Track of Reflection, if he will purſue it through the Epic and Tragic Writers, he will be convinced [] how infinitely ſuperior in this Point the Invention of Homer was to that of all others.
The Speeches are to be conſider'd as they ſlow from the Characters, being perfect or defective as they agree or diſagree with the Manners of thoſe who utter them. As there is more variety of Characters in the Iliad, ſo there is of Speeches, than in any other Poem. Every thing in it has Manners (as Ariſtotle expreſſes it) that is, every thing is acted or ſpoken. It is hardly credible in a Work of ſuch length, how ſmall a Number of Lines are employ'd in Narration. In Virgil the Dramatic Part is leſs in proportion to the Narrative; and the Speeches often conſiſt of ge⯑neral Reflections or Thoughts, which might be equally juſt in any Perſon's Mouth upon the ſame Occaſion. As many of his Perſons have no ap⯑parent Characters, ſo many of his Speeches eſcape being apply'd and judg'd by the Rule of Propriety. We oftner think of the Author himſelf when we read Virgil, than when we are engag'd in Homer: All which are the Effects of a colder Invention, that intereſts us leſs in the Action deſcrib'd: Homer makes us Hearers, and Virgil leaves us Readers.
If in the next place we take a View of the Sentiments, the ſame preſiding Faculty is eminent in the Sublimity and Spirit of his Thoughts. Longinus has given his Opinion, that it was in this Part Homer principally excell'd. What were alone ſufficient to prove the Grandeur and Excellence of his Sentiments in general, is that [] they have ſo remarkable a Parity with thoſe of the Scripture: Duport, in his Gnomologia Homerica, has collected innumerable Inſtances of this ſort. And it is with Juſtice an excellent modern Writer allows, that if Virgil has not ſo many Thoughts that are low and vulgar, he has not ſo many that are ſublime and noble; and that the Roman Author ſeldom riſes into very aſtoniſhing Senti⯑ments where he is not fired by the Iliad.
If we obſerve his Deſcriptions, Images, and Si⯑miles, we ſhall find the Invention ſtill predomi⯑nant. To what elſe can we aſcribe that vaſt Comprehenſion of Images of every ſort, where we ſee each Circumſtance and Individual of Na⯑ture ſummon'd together by the Extent and Fe⯑cundity of his Imagination; to which all things, in their various Views, preſented themſelves in an Inſtant, and had their Impreſſions taken off to Perfection at a Heat? Nay, he not only gives us the full Proſpects of Things, but ſeveral un⯑expected Peculiarities and Side-Views, unobſerv'd by any Painter but Homer. Nothing is ſo ſur⯑prizing as the Deſcriptions of his Battels, which take up no leſs than half the Iliad, and are ſup⯑ply'd with ſo vaſt a Variety of Incidents, that no one bears a Likeneſs to another; ſuch different Kinds of Deaths, that no two Heroes are wounded in the ſame manner; and ſuch a Profuſion of no⯑ble Ideas, that every Battel riſes above the laſt in Greatneſs, Horror, and Confuſion. It is certain there is not near that Number of Images and [] Deſcriptions in any Epic Poet; tho' every one has aſſiſted himſelf with a great Quantity out of him: And it is evident of Virgil eſpecially, that he has ſcarce any Compariſons which are not drawn from his Maſter.
If we deſcend from hence to the Expreſſion, we ſee the bright Imagination of Homer ſhining out in the moſt enliven'd Forms of it. We acknow⯑ledge him the Father of Poetical Diction, the firſt who taught that Language of the Gods to Men. His Expreſſion is like the colouring of ſome great Maſters, which diſcovers itſelf to be laid on boldly, and executed with Rapidity. It is indeed the ſtrongeſt and moſt glowing imagi⯑nable, and touch'd with the greateſt Spirit. Ariſtotle had reaſon to ſay, He was the only Poet who had found out Living Words; there are in him more daring Figures and Metaphors than in any good Author whatever. An Arrow is impatient to be on the Wing, a Weapon thirſts to drink the Blood of an Enemy, and the like. Yet his Expreſſion is never too big for the Senſe, but juſtly great in proportion to it: 'Tis the Senti⯑ment that ſwells and fills out the Diction, which riſes with it, and forms itſelf about it. For in the ſame degree that a Thought is warmer, an Expreſſion will be brighter; and as That is more ſtrong, This will become more perſpicuous: Like Glaſs in the Furnace which grows to a greater Magnitude, and refines to a greater Clearneſs, only as the Breath within is more powerful, and the Heat more intenſe.
[] To throw his Language more out of Proſe, Homer ſeems to have affected the Compound-Epi⯑thets. This was a ſort of Compoſition peculiarly proper to Poetry, not only as it heighten'd the Diction, but as it aſſiſted and fill'd the Numbers with greater Sound and Pomp, and likewiſe con⯑duced in ſome meaſure to thicken the Images. On this laſt Conſideration I cannot but attribute theſe to the Fruitfulneſs of his Invention, ſince (as he has manag'd them) they are a ſort of ſupernu⯑merary Pictures of the Perſons or Things they are join'd to. We ſee the Motion of Hector's Plumes in the Epithet [...], the Landſcape of Mount Neritus in that of [...], and ſo of others; which particular Images could not have been inſiſted upon ſo long as to expreſs them in a Deſcription (tho' but of a ſingle Line) without diverting the Reader too much from the prin⯑cipal Action or Figure. As a Metaphor is a ſhort Simile, one of theſe Epithets is a ſhort Deſcription.
Laſtly, if we conſider his Verſification, we ſhall be ſenſible what a Share of Praiſe is due to his Invention in that alſo. He was not ſatisfy'd with his Language as he found it ſettled in any one Part of Greece, but ſearch'd thro' its differ⯑ing Dialects with this particular View, to beau⯑tify and perfect his Numbers: He conſider'd theſe as they had a greater Mixture of Vowels or Conſonants, and accordingly employ'd them as the Verſe requir'd either a greater Smoothneſs [] or Strength. What he moſt affected was the Ionic, which has a peculiar Sweetneſs from its never uſing Contractions, and from its Cuſtom of reſolving the Diphthongs into two Syllables; ſo as to make the Words open themſelves with a more ſpreading and ſonorous Fluency. With this he mingled the Attic Contractions, the broader Doric, and the feebler Aeolic, which often rejects its Aſpirate, or takes off its Accent; and compleated this Variety by altering ſome Letters with the Licenſe of Poetry. Thus his Meaſures, inſtead of being Fetters to his Senſe, were always in readi⯑neſs to run along with the Warmth of his Rap⯑ture; and even to give a farther Repreſentation of his Notions, in the Correſpondence of their Sounds to what they ſignify'd. Out of all theſe he has deriv'd that Harmony, which makes us confeſs he had not only the richeſt Head, but the fineſt Ear in the World. This is ſo great a Truth, that whoever will but conſult the Tune of his Verſes even without underſtanding them (with the ſame ſort of Diligence as we daily ſee practis'd in the Caſe of Italian Opera's) will find more Sweetneſs, Variety, and Majeſty of Sound, than in any other Language or Poetry. The Beauty of his Numbers is allow'd by the Criticks to be copied but faintly by Virgil himſelf, tho' they are ſo juſt to aſcribe it to the Nature of the Latine Tongue. Indeed the Greek has ſome Advantages both from the natural Sound of its Words, and the Turn and Cadence of its Verſe, which agree [] with the Genius of no other Language. Virgil was very ſenſible of this, and uſed the utmoſt Diligence in working up a more intractable Lan⯑guage to whatſoever Graces it was capable of, and in particular never fail'd to bring the Sound of his Line to a beautiful Agreement with its Senſe. If the Grecian Poet has not been ſo frequently ce⯑lebrated on this Account as the Roman, the only reaſon is, that fewer Criticks have underſtood one Language than the other. Dionyſius of Halicar⯑naſſus has pointed out many of our Author's Beau⯑ties in this kind, in his Treatiſe of the Compoſition of Words, and others will be taken notice of in the Courſe of the Notes. It ſuffices at preſent to obſerve of his Numbers, that they flow with ſo much eaſe, as to make one imagine Homer had no other care than to tranſcribe as faſt as the Muſes dictated; and at the ſame time with ſo much Force and inſpiriting Vigour, that they awaken and raiſe us like the Sound of a Trumpet. They roll along as a plentiful River, always in motion, and always full; while we are born away by a Tide of Verſe, the moſt rapid, and yet the moſt ſmooth imaginable.
Thus on whatever ſide we contemplate Homer, what principally ſtrikes us is his Invention. It is that which forms the Character of each Part of his Work; and accordingly we find it to have made his Fable more extenſive and copious than any other, his Manners more lively and ſtrongly marked, his Speeches more affecting and tranſported, [] his Sentiments more warm and ſublime, his Ima⯑ges and Deſcriptions more full and animated, his Expreſſion more rais'd and daring, and his Numbers more rapid and various. I hope in what has been ſaid of Virgil with regard to any of theſe Heads, I have no way derogated from his Character. Nothing is more abſurd or end⯑leſs, than the common Method of comparing eminent Writers by an Oppoſition of particular Paſſages in them, and forming a Judgment from thence of their Merit upon the whole. We ought to have a certain Knowledge of the prin⯑cipal Character and diſtinguiſhing Excellence of each: It is in that we are to conſider him, and in proportion to his Degree in that we are to ad⯑mire him. No Author or Man ever excell'd all the World in more than one Faculty, and as Homer has done this in Invention, Virgil has in Judgment. Not that we are to think Homer wanted Judgment, becauſe Virgil had it in a more eminent degree; or that Virgil wanted In⯑vention, becauſe Homer poſſeſt a larger ſhare of it: Each of theſe great Authors had more of both than perhaps any Man beſides, and are only ſaid to have leſs in Compariſon with one ano⯑ther. Homer was the greater Genius, Virgil the better Artiſt. In one we moſt admire the Man, in the other the Work. Homer hurries and tranſ⯑ports us with a commanding Impetuoſity, Virgil leads us with an attractive Majeſty: Homer ſcatters with a generous Profuſion, Virgil beſtows [] with a careful Magnificence: Homer, like the Nile, pours out his Riches with a ſudden Overflow; Virgil like a River in its Banks, with a gentle and conſtant Stream. When we behold their Battels, methinks the two Poets reſemble the He⯑roes they celebrate: Homer, boundleſs and irreſi⯑ſtible as Achilles, bears all before him, and ſhines more and more as the Tumult increaſes; Virgil, calmly daring like Aeneas, appears undiſturb'd in the midſt of the Action, diſpoſes all about him, and conquers with Tranquillity: And when we look upon their Machines, Homer ſeems like his own Jupiter in his Terrors, ſhaking Olympus, ſcat⯑tering the Lightnings, and firing the Heavens; Virgil, like the ſame Power in his Benevolence, counſelling with the Gods, laying Plans for Em⯑pires, and regularly ordering his whole Creation.
But after all, it is with great Parts as with great Virtues, they naturally border on ſome Im⯑perfection; and it is often hard to diſtinguiſh exactly where the Virtue ends, or the Fault be⯑gins. As Prudence may ſometimes ſink to Suſ⯑picion, ſo may a great Judgment decline to Coldneſs; and as Magnanimity may run up to Profuſion or Extravagance, ſo may a great Inven⯑tion to Redundancy or Wildneſs. If we look upon Homer in this View, we ſhall perceive the chief Objections againſt him to proceed from ſo noble a Cauſe as the Exceſs of this Faculty.
Among theſe we may reckon ſome of his Mar⯑vellous Fictions, upon which ſo much Criticiſm [] has been ſpent as ſurpaſſing all the Bounds of Probability. Perhaps it may be with great and ſuperior Souls as with gigantick Bodies, which ex⯑erting themſelves with unuſual Strength, exceed what is commonly thought the due Proportion of Parts, to become Miracles in the whole; and like the old Heroes of that Make, commit ſome⯑thing near Extravagance amidſt a Series of glo⯑rious and inimitable Performances. Thus Homer has his ſpeaking Horſes, and Virgil his Myrtles diſtilling Blood, without ſo much as contriving the eaſy Intervention of a Deity to ſave the Probability.
It is owing to the ſame vaſt Invention that his Similes have been thought too exuberant and full of Circumſtances. The Force of this Faculty is ſeen in nothing more, than its In⯑ability to confine itſelf to that ſingle Circum⯑ſtance upon which the Compariſon is grounded: It runs out into Embelliſhments of additional Images, which however are ſo manag'd as not to overpower the main one. His Similes are like Pictures, where the principal Figure has not only its proportion given agreeable to the Original, but is alſo ſet off with occaſional Ornaments and Proſpects. The ſame will account for his man⯑ner of heaping a Number of Compariſons toge⯑ther in one Breath, when his Fancy ſuggeſted to him at once ſo many various and correſpondent Images. The Reader will eaſily extend this Ob⯑ſervation to more Objections of the ſame kind.
[] If there are others which ſeem rather to charge him with a Defect or Narrowneſs of Genius, than an Exceſs of it; thoſe ſeeming Defects will be found upon Examination to proceed wholly from the Nature of the Times he liv'd in. Such are his groſſer Repreſentations of the Gods, and the vicious and imperfect Manners of his Heroes, which will be treated of in the following * Eſſay: But I muſt here ſpeak a word of the latter, as it is a Point generally carry'd into Extreams both by the Cenſurers and Defenders of Homer. It muſt be a ſtrange Partiality to Antiquity to think with Madam Dacier, ‘"that † thoſe Times and Man⯑ners are ſo much the more excellent, as they are more contrary to ours"’ Who can be ſo preju⯑diced in their Favour as to magnify the Felicity of thoſe Ages, when a Spirit of Revenge and Cruelty reign'd thro' the World, when no Mercy was ſhown but for the ſake of Lucre, when the greateſt Princes were put to the Sword, and their Wives and Daughters made Slaves and Concu⯑bines? On the other ſide I would not be ſo deli⯑cate as thoſe modern Criticks, who are ſhock'd at the ſervile Offices and mean Employments in which we ſometimes ſee the Heroes of Homer en⯑gag'd. There is a Pleaſure in taking a view of that Simplicity in Oppoſition to the Luxury of ſucceeding Ages; in beholding Monarchs without their Guards, Princes tending their Flocks, and [] Princeſſes drawing Water from the Springs. When we read Homer, we ought to reflect that we are reading the moſt ancient Author in the Heathen World; and thoſe who conſider him in this Light, will double their Pleaſure in the Peruſal of him. Let them think they are growing ac⯑quainted with Nations and People that are now no more; that they are ſtepping almoſt three thouſand Years backward into the remoteſt An⯑tiquity, and entertaining themſelves with a clear and ſurprizing Viſion of Things no where elſe to be found, and the only authentick Picture of that ancient World. By this means alone their greateſt Obſtacles will vaniſh; and what uſually creates their Diſlike, will become a Sa⯑tisfaction.
This Conſideration may farther ſerve to an⯑ſwer for the conſtant Uſe of the ſame Epithets to his Gods and Heroes, ſuch as the far-darting Phoebus, the blue-ey'd Pallas, the ſwift-footed Achilles, &c. which ſome have cenſured as im⯑pertinent and tediouſly repeated. Thoſe of the Gods depended upon the Powers and Offices then believ'd to belong to them, and had contracted a Weight and Veneration from the Rites and ſo⯑lemn Devotions in which they were us'd: They were a ſort of Attributes that it was a Matter of Religion to ſalute them with on all Occaſions, and an Irreverence to omit. As for the Epithets of great Men, Monſ. Boileau is of Opinion; that they were in the Nature of Surnames, and re⯑peated [] as ſuch; for the Greeks having no Names deriv'd from their Fathers, were oblig'd when they mention'd any one to add ſome other Di⯑ſtinction; either naming his Parents expreſsly, or his Place of Birth, Profeſſion, or the like: As Alexander Son of Philip, Herodotus of Halicar⯑naſſus, Diogenes the Cynic, &c. Homer therefore complying with the Cuſtom of his Countrey, us'd ſuch diſtinctive Additions as better agreed with Poetry. And indeed we have ſomething parallel to theſe in modern Times, ſuch as the Names of Harold Harefoot, Edmund Iron⯑ſide, Edward Long-ſhanks, Edward the black Prince, &c. If yet this be thought to account better for the Propriety than for the Repetition, I ſhall add a farther Conjecture. Heſiod dividing the World into its Ages, has plac'd a fourth Age between the Brazen and the Iron one, of Heroes diſtinct from other Men, a divine Race, who fought at Thebes and Troy, are called Demi-Gods, and live by the Care of Jupiter in the Iſlands of the Bleſſed *. Now among the divine Honours which were paid them, they might have this alſo in common with the Gods, not to be mention'd without the Solemnity of an Epithet, and ſuch as might be acceptable to them by its celebrating their Families, Actions, or Qualities.
What other Cavils have been rais'd againſt Homer are ſuch as hardly deſerve a Reply, but [] will yet be taken notice of as they occur in the Courſe of the Work. Many have been occaſion'd by an injudicious Endeavour to exalt Virgil; which is much the ſame, as if one ſhould think to praiſe the Superſtructure by undermining the Foundation: One would imagine by the whole Courſe of their Parallels, that theſe Criticks never ſo much as heard of Homer's having written firſt; a Conſideration which whoever compares theſe two Poets ought to have always in his Eye. Some accuſe him for the ſame things which they overlook or praiſe in the other; as when they prefer the Fable and Moral of the Aeneis to thoſe of the Iliad, for the ſame Reaſons which might ſet the Odyſſes above the Aeneis: as that the He⯑roe is a wiſer Man; and the Action of the one more beneficial to his Countrey than that of the other: Or elſe they blame him for not doing what he never deſign'd; as becauſe Achilles is not as good and perfect a Prince as Aeneas, when the very Moral of his Poem requir'd a contrary Character. It is thus that Rapin judges in his Compariſon of Homer and Virgil. Others ſelect thoſe particular Paſſages of Homer which are not ſo labour'd as ſome that Virgil drew out of them: This is the whole Management of Scaliger in his Poetices. Others quarrel with what they take for low and mean Expreſſions, ſometimes thro' a falſe Deli⯑cacy and Refinement, oftner from an Ignorance of the Graces of the Original; and then tri⯑umph in the Aukwardneſs of their own Tranſ⯑lations. [] This is the Conduct of Perault in his Parallels. Laſtly, there are others, who pretend⯑ing to a fairer Proceeding, diſtinguiſh between the perſonal Merit of Homer, and that of his Work; but when they come to aſſign the Cauſes of the great Reputation of the Iliad, they found it upon the Ignorance of his Times, and the Prejudice of thoſe that followed. And in purſuance of this Principle, they make thoſe Accidents (ſuch as the Contention of the Cities, &c.) to be the Cauſes of his Fame, which were in Reality the Conſequences of his Merit. The ſame might as well be ſaid of Virgil, or any great Author, whoſe general Character will infallibly raiſe many caſual Ad⯑ditions to their Reputation. This is the Method of Monſ. de la Motte; who yet confeſſes upon the whole, that in whatever Age Homer had liv'd he muſt have been the greateſt Poet of his Na⯑tion, and that he may be ſaid in this Senſe to be the Maſter even of thoſe who ſurpaſs'd him.
In all theſe Objections we ſee nothing that contradicts his Title to the Honour of the chief Invention; and as long as this (which is indeed the Characteriſtic of Poetry itſelf) remains une⯑qual'd by his Followers, he ſtill continues ſuperior to them. A cooler Judgment may commit fewer Faults, and be more approv'd in the Eves of One Sort of Criticks: but that Warmth of Fancy will carry the loudeſt and moſt univerſal Applauſes which holds the Heart of a Reader under the ſtrongeſt Enchantment. Homer not only appears [] the Inventor of Poetry, but excells all the Inven⯑tors of other Arts in this, that he has ſwallow'd up the Honour of thoſe who ſucceeded him. What he has done admitted no Encreaſe, it on⯑ly leſt room for Contraction or Regulation. He ſhew'd all the Stretch of Fancy at once; and if he has fail'd in ſome of his Flights, it was but be⯑cauſe he attempted every thing. A Work of this kind ſeems like a mighty Tree which riſes from the moſt vigorous Seed, is improv'd with Induſtry, flouriſhes, and produces the fineſt Fruit; Nature and Art have conſpir'd to raiſe it; Pleaſure and Profit join'd to make it valuable: and they who find the juſteſt Faults, have only ſaid, that a few Branches (which run luxuriant thro' a Richneſs of Nature) might be lopp'd into Form to give it a more regular Appearance.
Having now ſpoken of the Beauties and De⯑fects of the Original, it remains to treat of the Tranſlation, with the ſame View to the chief Characteriſtic. As far as that is ſeen in the main Parts of the Poem, ſuch as the Fable, Manners, and Sentiments, no Tranſlator can prejudice it but by wilful Omiſſions or Contractions. As it alſo breaks out in every particular Image, Deſcription, and Simile; whoever leſſens or too much ſoftens thoſe, takes off from this chief Character. It is the firſt grand Duty of an Interpreter to give his Author entire and unmaim'd; and for the reſt, the Diction and Verſification only are his [] proper Province; ſince theſe muſt be his own, but the others he is to take as he finds them.
It ſhould then be conſider'd what Methods may afford ſome Equivalent in our Language for the Graces of theſe in the Greek. It is certain no literal Tranſlation can be juſt to an excellent Original in a ſuperior Language: but it is a great Mi⯑ſtake to imagine (as many have done) that a raſh Paraphraſe can make amends for this ge⯑neral Defect; which is no leſs in danger to loſe the Spirit of an Ancient, by deviating into the modern Manners of Expreſſion. If there be ſome⯑times a Darkneſs, there is often a Light in Anti⯑quity, which nothing better preſerves than a Ver⯑ſion almoſt literal. I know no Liberties one ought to take, but thoſe which are neceſſary for tranſ⯑fuſing the Spirit of the Original, and ſupporting the Poetical Style of the Tranſlation: and I will venture to ſay, there have not been more Men miſled in former times by a ſervile dull Adhe⯑rence to the Letter, than have been deluded in ours by a chimerical inſolent Hope of raiſing and improving their Author. It is not to be doubted that the Fire of the Poem is what a Tranſlator ſhould principally regard, as it is moſt likely to expire in his managing: However it is his ſafeſt way to be content with preſerving this to his utmoſt in the Whole, without endeavouring to be more than he finds his Author is, in any particular Place. 'Tis a great Secret in Writing to know when to be plain, and when poetical [] and figurative; and it is what Homer will teach us if we will but follow modeſtly in his Foot⯑ſteps. Where his Diction is bold and lofty, let us raiſe ours as high as we can; but where his is plain and humble, we ought not to be deterr'd from imitating him by the fear of incurring the Cenſure of a meer Engliſh Critick. Nothing that belongs to Homer ſeems to have been more com⯑monly miſtaken than the juſt Pitch of his Style: Some of his Tranſlators having ſwell'd into Fuſ⯑tian in a proud Confidence of the Sublime; others ſunk into Flatneſs in a cold and timorous Notion of Simplicity. Methinks I ſee theſe different Fol⯑lowers of Homer, ſome ſweating and ſtraining after him by violent Leaps and Bounds, (the cer⯑tain Signs of falſe Mettle) others ſlowly and ſer⯑vilely creeping in his Train, while the Poet him⯑ſelf is all the time proceeding with an unaffected and equal Majeſty before them. However of the two Extreams one could ſooner pardon Frenzy than Frigidity: No Author is to be envy'd for ſuch Commendations as he may gain by that Cha⯑racter of Style, which his Friends muſt agree together to call Simplicity, and the reſt of the World will call Dulneſs. There is a graceful and dignify'd Simplicity, as well as a bald and ſordid one, which differ as much from each other as the Air of a plain Man from that of a Sloven: 'Tis one thing to be tricked up, and another not to be dreſs'd at all. Simplicity is the Mean between Oſtentation and Ruſticity.
[] This pure and noble Simplicity is no where in ſuch Perfection as in the Scripture and our Author. One may affirm with all reſpect to the inſpired Writings, that the Divine Spirit made uſe of no other Words but what were intelligi⯑ble and common to Men at that Time, and in that Part of the World; and as Homer is the Au⯑thor neareſt to thoſe, his Style muſt of courſe bear a greater Reſemblance to the ſacred Books than that of any other Writer. This Conſidera⯑tion (together with what has been obſerv'd of the Parity of ſome of his Thoughts) may methinks induce a Tranſlator on the one hand to give into ſeveral of thoſe general Phraſes and Man⯑ners of Expreſſion, which have attain'd a Vene⯑ration even in our Language from their uſe in the Old Teſtament; as on the other, to avoid thoſe which have been appropriated to the Divi⯑nity, and in a manner conſign'd to Myſtery and Religion.
For a farther Preſervation of this Air of Sim⯑plicity, a particular Care ſhould be taken to ex⯑preſs with all Plainneſs thoſe Moral Sentences and Proverbial Speeches which are ſo numerous in this Poet. They have ſomething Venerable, and as I may ſay Oracular, in that unadorn'd Gravity and Shortneſs with which they are deliver'd: a Grace which would be utterly loſt by endea⯑vouring to give them what we call a more in⯑genious (that is a more modern) Turn in the Paraphraſe.
[][] Perhaps the Mixture of ſome Graeciſms and old Words after the manner of Milton, if done with⯑out too much Affectation, might not have an ill Effect in a Verſion of this particular Work, which moſt of any other ſeems to require a venerable Antique Caſt. But certainly the uſe of modern Terms of War and Government, ſuch as Platoon, Campagne, Junto, or the like (which ſome of his Tranſlators have fallen into) cannot be allow⯑able; thoſe only excepted, without which it is impoſſible to treat the Subjects in any living Language.
There are two Peculiarities in Homer's Diction that are a ſort of Marks or Moles, by which every common Eye diſtinguiſhes him at firſt ſight: Thoſe who are not his greateſt Admirers look upon them as Defects, and thoſe who are ſeem pleaſed with them as Beauties. I ſpeak of his Compound-Epithets and of his Repetitions. Many of the former cannot be done literally into Engliſh without deſtroying the Purity of our Language. I believe ſuch ſhould be retain'd as ſlide eaſily of themſelves into an Engliſh-Compound, without Violence to the Ear or to the receiv'd Rules of Compoſition; as well as thoſe which have re⯑ceiv'd a Sanction from the Authority of our beſt Poets, and are become familiar thro' their uſe of them; ſuch as the Cloud-compelling Jove, &c. As for the reſt, whenever any can be as fully and ſignificantly expreſt in a ſingle word as in a com⯑pounded one, the Courſe to be taken is obvious. [] Some that cannot be ſo turn'd as to preſerve their full Image by one or two Words, may have Ju⯑ſtice done them by Circumlocution; as the Epi⯑thet [...] to a Mountain would appear little or ridiculous tranſlated literally Leaf-ſhaking, but affords a majeſtic Idea in the Periphraſis: The lofty Mountains ſhakes his waving Woods. Others that admit of differing Significations, may re⯑ceive an Advantage by a judicious Variation ac⯑cording to the Occaſions on which they are in⯑troduc'd. For Example, the Epithet of Apollo, [...], or far-ſhooting, is capable of two Explica⯑tions; one literal in reſpect of the Darts and Bow, the Enſigns of that God; the other allego⯑rical with regard to the Rays of the Sun: There⯑fore in ſuch Places where Apollo is repreſented as a God in Perſon, I would uſe the former Inter⯑pretation, and where the Effects of the Sun are deſcrib'd, I would make choice of the latter. Upon the whole, it will be neceſſary to avoid that perpetual Repetition of the ſame Epithets which we find in Homer, and which, tho' it might be accommodated (as has been already ſhewn) to the Ear of thoſe Times, is by no means ſo to ours: But one may wait for Opportunities of placing them, where they derive an additional Beauty from the Occaſions on which they are employed; and in doing this properly, a Tranſlator may at once ſhew his Fancy and his Judgment.
As for Homer's Repetitions; we may divide them into three ſorts; of whole Narrations and [] Speeches, of ſingle Sentences, and of one Verſe or Hemiſtich. I hope it is not impoſſible to have ſuch a Regard to theſe, as neither to loſe ſo known a Mark of the Author on the one hand, nor to offend the Reader too much on the other. The Repetition is not ungraceful in thoſe Speeches where the Dignity of the Speaker renders it a ſort of Inſolence to alter his Words; as in the Meſſa⯑ges from Gods to Men, or from higher Powers to Inferiors in Concerns of State, or where the Ceremonial of Religion ſeems to require it, in the ſolemn Forms of Prayers, Oaths, or the like. In other Caſes, I believe the beſt Rule is to be guided by the Nearneſs, or Diſtance, at which the Repe⯑titions are plac'd in the Original: When they follow too cloſe one may vary the Expreſſion, but it is a Queſtion whether a profeſs'd Tranſla⯑tor be authorized to omit any: If they be tedi⯑ous, the Author is to anſwer for it.
It only remains to ſpeak of the Verſification. Homer (as has been ſaid) is perpetually applying the Sound to the Senſe, and varying it on every new Subject. This is indeed one of the moſt ex⯑quiſite Beauties of Poetry, and attainable by very few: I know only of Homer eminent for it in the Greek, and Virgil in Latine. I am ſenſible it is what may ſometimes happen by Chance, when a Writer is warm, and fully poſſeſt of his Image: however it may be reaſonably believed they de⯑ſign'd this, in whoſe Verſe it ſo manifeſtly ap⯑pears in a ſuperior degree to all others. Few [] Readers have the Ear to be Judges of it, but thoſe who have will ſee I have endeavour'd at this Beauty.
Upon the whole, I muſt confeſs my ſelf ut⯑terly incapable of doing Juſtice to Homer. I at⯑tempt him in no other Hope but that which one may entertain without much Vanity, of giving a more tolerable Copy of him than any entire Tranſ⯑lation in Verſe has yet done. We have only thoſe of Chapman, Hobbes, and Ogilby. Chapman has ta⯑ken the Advantage of an immeaſurable Length of Verſe, notwithſtanding which there is ſcarce any Paraphraſe more looſe and rambling than his. He has frequent Interpolations of four or ſix Lines, and I remember one in the thirteenth Book of the Odyſſes, ver. 312. where he has ſpun twenty Verſes out of two. He is often miſtaken in ſo bold a manner, that one might think he deviated on purpoſe, if he did not in other Places of his Notes inſiſt ſo much upon Verbal Trifles. He appears to have had a ſtrong Affectation of extracting new Meanings out of his Author, inſomuch as to promiſe in his Rhyming Preface, a Poem of the Myſteries he had revealed in Homer; and perhaps he endeavoured to ſtrain the obvious Senſe to this End. His Expreſſion is involved in Fuſtian, a Fault for which he was remarkable in his Original Writings, as in the Tragedy of Buſſyd' Amboiſe, &c. In a word, the Nature of the Man may account for his whole Performance; for he appears from his Preface and Remarks to have been of an ar⯑rogant [] Turn, and an Enthuſiaſt in Poetry. His own Boaſt of having finiſh'd half the Iliad in leſs than fifteen Weeks, ſhews with what Negli⯑gence his Verſion was performed. But that which is to be allowed him, and which very much contri⯑buted to cover his Defects, is a daring fiery Spirit that animates his Tranſlation, which is ſomething like what one might imagine Homer himſelf would have writ before he arriv'd to Years of Diſcretion. Hobbes has given us a correct Explanation of the Senſe in general, but for Particulars and Circum⯑ſtances he continually lopps them, and often omits the moſt beautiful. As for its being eſteem'd a cloſe Tranſlation, I doubt not many have been led into that Error by the Shortneſs of it, which proceeds not from his following the Original Line by Line, but from the Contractions above-men⯑tioned. He ſometimes omits whole Similes and Sentences, and is now and then guilty of Mi⯑ſtakes which no Writer of his Learning could have fallen into, but thro' Careleſneſs. His Poe⯑try, as well as Ogilby's, is too mean for Criticiſm.
It is a great Loſs to the Poetical World that Mr. Dryden did not live to tranſlate the Iliad. He has left us only the firſt Book and a ſmall Part of the ſixth; in which if he has in ſome Places not truly interpreted the Senſe, or preſerved the Antiquities, it ought to be excuſed on account of the Haſte he was obliged to write in. He ſeems to have had too much Regard to Chapman, whoſe Words he ſometimes copies, and has unhappily [] follow'd him in Paſſages where he wanders from the Original. However had he tranſlated the whole Work, I would no more have attempted Homer after him than Virgil, his Verſion of whom (notwithſtanding ſome human Errors) is the moſt noble and ſpirited Tranſlation I know in any Lan⯑guage. But the Fate of great Genius's is like that of great Miniſters, tho' they are confeſſedly the firſt in the Commonwealth of Letters, they muſt be envy'd and calumniated only for being at the Head of it.
That which in my Opinion ought to be the Endeavour of any one who tranſlates Homer, is above all things to keep alive that Spirit and Fire which makes his chief Character. In particular Places, where the Senſe can bear any Doubt, to follow the ſtrongeſt and moſt Poetical, as moſt agreeing with that Character. To copy him in all the Variations of his Style, and the different Modulations of his Numbers. To preſerve in the more active or deſcriptive Parts, a Warmth and Elevation; in the more ſedate or narrative, a Plainneſs and Solemnity; in the Speeches a Ful⯑neſs and Perſpicuity; in the Sentences a Shortneſs and Gravity. Not to neglect even the little Figures and Turns on the Words, nor ſome⯑times the very Caſt of the Periods. Neither to omit or confound any Rites or Cuſtoms of Antiquity. Perhaps too he ought to include the whole in a ſhorter Compaſs, than has hitherto been done by any Tranſlator who has tolerably [] preſerved either the Senſe or Poetry. What I would farther recommend to him, is to ſtudy his Author rather from his own Text than from any Commentaries, how learned ſoever, or whatever Figure they make in the Eſtimation of the World. To conſider him attentively in Compariſon with Virgil above all the Ancients, and with Milton above all the Moderns. Next theſe the Archbiſhop of Cambray's Telemachus may give him the trueſt Idea of the Spirit and Turn of our Author, and Boſſu's admirable Treatiſe of the Epic Poem the juſteſt Notion of his Deſign and Conduct. But after all, with whatever Judgment and Study a Man may proceed, or with whatever Happineſs he may perform ſuch a Work; he muſt hope to pleaſe but a few, thoſe only who have at once a Taſte of Poetry, and competent Learning. For to ſatisfy ſuch as want either, is not in the Nature of this Undertaking; ſince a meer Modern Wit can like nothing that is not Modern, and a Pedant nothing that is not Greek.
What I have done is ſubmitted to the Publick, from whoſe Opinions I am prepared to learn; tho' I fear no Judges ſo little as our beſt Poets, who are moſt ſenſible of the Weight of this Task. As for the worſt, whatever they ſhall pleaſe to ſay, they may give me ſome Concern as they are unhappy Men, but none as they are malignant Writers. I was guided in this Tranſlation by Judgments very different from theirs, and by Per⯑ſons for whom they can have no Kindneſs, if an [] old Obſervation be true, that the ſtrongeſt Anti⯑pathy in the World is that of Fools to Men of Wit. Mr. Addiſon was the firſt whoſe Advice deter⯑min'd me to undertake this Task, who was pleas'd to write to me upon that Occaſion in ſuch Terms as I cannot repeat without Vanity. I was obliged to Sir Richard Steele for a very early Recommen⯑dation of my Undertaking to the Publick. Dr. Swift promoted my Intereſt with that Warmth with which he always ſerves his Friend. The Humanity and Frankneſs of Sir Samuel Garth are what I never knew wanting on any Occaſion. I muſt alſo acknowledge with infinite Pleaſure the many friendly Offices as well as ſincere Cri⯑ticiſms of Mr. Congreve, who had led me the way in tranſlating ſome Parts of Homer, as I wiſh for the ſake of the World he had prevented me in the reſt. I muſt add the Names of Mr. Rowe and Dr. Parnell, tho' I ſhall take a farther Opportunity of doing Juſtice to the laſt, whoſe Good-nature (to give it a great Panegyrick) is no leſs extenſive than his Learning. The Favour of theſe Gentlemen is not entirely undeſerved by one who bears them ſo true an Affection. But what can I ſay of the Honour ſo many of the Great have done me, while the Firſt Names of the Age appear as my Subſcribers, and the moſt diſtinguiſh'd Patrons and Ornaments of Learning as my chief Encouragers. Among theſe it is a particular Pleaſure to me to find, that my higheſt Obligations are to ſuch who have done moſt Ho⯑nour [] to the Name of Poet: That his Grace the Duke of Buckingham was not diſpleas'd I ſhould undertake the Author to whom he has given (in his excellent Eſſay) the fineſt Praiſe he ever yet receiv'd.
That the Earl of Halifax was one of the firſt to favour me, of whom it is hard to ſay whether the Advancement of the Polite Arts is more owing to his Generoſity or his Example. That ſuch a Genius as my Lord Bolingbroke, not more di⯑ſtinguiſhed in the great Scenes of Buſineſs than in all the uſeful and entertaining Parts of Learn⯑ing, has not refus'd to be the Critick of theſe Sheets, and the Patron of their Writer. And that ſo excellent an Imitator of Homer as the no⯑ble Author of the Tragedy of Heroic Love, has continu'd his Partiality to me from my writing Paſtorals to my attempting the Iliad. I cannot deny my ſelf the Pride of confeſſing, that I have had the Advantage not only of their Advice for the Conduct in general, but their Correction of ſeveral Particulars of this Tranſlation.
I could ſay a great deal of the Pleaſure of be⯑ing diſtinguiſh'd by the Earl of Carnarvon, but it is almoſt abſurd to particularize any one gene⯑rous [] Action in a Perſon whoſe whole Life is a continued Series of them. The Right Honoura⯑ble Mr. Stanhope, the preſent Secretary of State, will pardon my Deſire of having it known that he was pleas'd to promote this Affair. The par⯑ticular Zeal of Mr. Harcourt (the Son of the late Lord Chancellor) gave me a Proof how much I am honour'd in a Share of his Friendſhip. I muſt attribute to the ſame Motive that of ſeveral others of my Friends, to whom all Acknowledgments are render'd unneceſſary by the Privileges of a fa⯑miliar Correſpondence: And I am ſatisfy'd I can no way better oblige Men of their Turn, than by my Silence.
In ſhort, I have found more Patrons than ever Homer wanted. He would have thought himſelf happy to have met the ſame Favour at Athens, that has been ſhewn me by its learned Rival, the Univerſity of Oxford. If my Author had the Wits of After-Ages for his Defenders, his Tranſ⯑lator has had the Beauties of the preſent for his Advocates; a Pleaſure too great to be changed for any Fame in Reverſion. And I can hardly envy him thoſe pompous Honours he receiv'd af⯑ter Death, when I reflect on the Enjoyment of ſo many agreeable Obligations, and eaſy Friendſhips which make the Satisfaction of Life. This Di⯑ſtinction is the more to be acknowledg'd, as it is ſhewn to one whoſe Pen has never gratify'd the Prejudices of particular Parties, or the Vanities of particular Men. Whatever the Succeſs may [] prove, I ſhall never repent of an Undertaking in which I have experienc'd the Candour and Friendſhip of ſo many Perſons of Merit; and in which I hope to paſs ſome of thoſe Years of Youth that are generally loſt in a Circle of Fol⯑lies, after a manner neither wholly unuſeful to others, nor diſagreeable to my ſelf.
ΟΜΗΡΟϹ ΑΜΑϹΤΡΙϹ
ΟΜΗΡΟϹ ΝΩΙΞ
ΚΟΥΜΕΝΕ ΚΡΟΝΟΣ ΙΑΙΑΣ ΟΔΥΣΣΕΙΑ ΟΜΗΡΟΣ ΜΥΘΟΣ ΙΣΤΟΡΙΑ ΠΟ [...]ΣΙΣ ΚΩΜΩΙΔΙΑ ΤΡΑΓΥΔΙΑ Φ [...]ΣΙΣ ΑΡ [...]ΤΗ ΜΝΗΜΗ ΓΙΣΤΙΣ ΣΟΦΙΑ
Ex [...] antiquo in Palatio [...]
Homaerium Smyrnaeum
[]
ΟΜΗΡΟϹ ϹΜΥΡΝΑΙΩΝ
ΟΜΗΡΟϹ ΑΜΑΣΤΡΙΑΝΩΝ
[]
AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE, WRITINGS and LEARNING, OF HOMER.
[]THERE is ſomething in the Mind of Man, which goes beyond bare Curioſity, and even carries us on to a Shadow of Friendſhip with thoſe great Genius's whom we have known to excel in former Ages. Nor will it appear leſs to any one, who conſiders how much it par⯑takes of the Nature of Friendſhip; how it compounds itſelf of an Admiration rais'd by what we meet with concerning them; a Tendency to be farther acquainted with them, by gathering every Circumſtance of their Lives; a kind of Complacency in their Company, when we retire to enjoy what they have left; an Union with them in thoſe Sentiments they approve; and an En⯑deavour to defend them, when we think they are injuriouſly at⯑tack'd, or even ſometimes with too partial an Affection.
There is alſo in Mankind a Spirit of Envy or Oppoſition, which makes them uneaſy to ſee others of the ſame Species [2] ſeated far above them in a ſort of Perfection. And this, at leaſt ſo far as we ſpeak of the Fame of Writers, has not always been known to dye with a Man entirely, but to purſue his Re⯑mains with idle Traditions, and weak Conjectures; ſo that his Name, which is not to be forgotten, ſhall be preſerv'd only to be ſtain'd and blotted. The Controverſy, which was carry'd on between the Author and his Enemies, while he yet was living, ſhall ſtill be kept on foot; not entirely upon his own account, but on theirs who live after him; ſome being fond to praiſe extravagantly, and others as raſhly eager to contradict his Ad⯑mirers. This Proceeding, on both ſides, gives us an Image of the firſt Deſcriptions of War, ſuch as the Iliad affords; where a Heroe diſputes the Field with an Army 'til it is his time to dye, and then the Battel, which we expected to fall of courſe, is renew'd about the Body; his Friends contending that they may embalm and honour it, his Enemies that they may caſt it to the Dogs and Vultures.
There are yet others of a low kind of Taſte, who, without any Malignity to the Character of a great Author, leſſen the Dignity of their Subject by inſiſting too meanly upon little Particularities. They imagine it the Part of an Hiſtorian to omit nothing they meet concerning him whom they write upon; and gather every thing wherein he is nam'd, without any diſtinction, to the Prejudice or Neglect of the more noble Parts of his Character: Like thoſe trifling Painters, or Sculptors, who be⯑ſtow infinite Pains and Patience upon the moſt inſignificant Parts of a Figure, 'till they ſink the Grandeur of the Whole, by finiſhing every thing with the neateſt Want of Judgment.
Beſides theſe, there is a fourth ſort of Men, who pretend to diveſt themſelves of impetuous Emotions on both ſides, and to get above that imperfect Idea of their Subject, which little Writers fall into; who propoſe to themſelves a calm Search after Truth, and a rational Adherence to Probability in their hiſtorical Collections: Who neither wiſh to be led into the Fa⯑bles of Poetry, nor are willing to ſupport the Falſehoods of a malignant Criticiſm; but, endeavouring to ſteer in a middle way, have obtain'd a Character of failing leaſt in the Choice of Ma⯑terials for Hiſtory, even from the darkeſt Ages.
[3] Being therefore to write ſomething concerning a Life, which there is little Proſpect of our knowing, after it has been the fruitleſs Enquiry of ſo many Ages, and which has however been thus differently treated by Hiſtorians, I ſhall endeavour to ſpeak of it, not as a Certainty, but as the Tradition, Opinion, or Collection of Authors, who have been ſuppos'd to write of Homer in theſe four preceding Methods, to which we ſhall alſo add ſome farther Conjectures of our own. After his Life has been thus rather ſpoken of than diſcover'd, I ſhall conſider him hiſtorically as an Author, with regard to thoſe Works which he has left behind him: In doing which, we may trace the degrees of Eſteem they have obtain'd in different Periods of Time, and regulate our preſent Opinion of them, by a View of that Age in which they were written.
I. Stories of Ho⯑mer, which are the Ef⯑fects of ex⯑travagant Admiration. I. If we take a View of Homer in thoſe fabulous Traditions which the Admiration of the ancient Heathens has occaſion'd, we find them running to Superſtition, and multiply'd and inde⯑pendent on one another, in the different Accounts which are gi⯑ven with reſpect to Aegypt and Greece, the two native Coun⯑treys of Fable.
We have one in a Euſtathius moſt ſtrangely fram'd, which Alexander Paphius has reported concerning Homer's Birth and Infancy. That ‘"He was born in Aegypt of Dmaſagoras and Aethra, and brought up by a Daughter of Orus, the Prieſt of Iſis, who was herſelf a Propheteſs, and from whoſe Breaſts Drops of Honey would frequently diſtil into the Mouth of the Infant. In the Night-time the firſt Sounds he utter'd were the Notes of nine ſeveral Birds: In the Morning he was found playing with nine Doves in the Bed: The Sybil, who attended him, us'd to be ſeiz'd with a poetical Fury, and utter Verſes, in which ſhe commanded Dmaſagoras to build a Tem⯑ple to the Muſes: This he perform'd in Obedience to her Inſpiration, and related all theſe things to the Child when he was grown up; who, in Memory of the Doves which play'd with him during his Infancy, has in his Works prefer'd this Bird to the Honour of bringing Ambroſia to Jupiter."’
[4] One would think a Story of this Nature, ſo fit for Age to talk of, and Infancy to hear, were incapable of being handed down to us. But we find the Tradition again taken up to be heighten'd in one part, and carry'd forward in another. b Heliodorus, who had heard of this Claim which Aegypt put in for Homer, en⯑deavours to ſtrengthen it by naming Thebes for the particular place of his Birth. He allows too, that a Prieſt was his repu⯑ted Father, but that his real Father, according to the Opinion of Aegypt, was Mercury: He ſays, ‘"That when the Prieſt was celebrating the Rites of his Countrey, and therefore ſlept with his Wife in the Temple, the God had knowledge of her, and begot Homer: That he was born with Tufts of Hair on his cThigh, as a Sign of unlawful Generation, from whence he was called Homer by the Nations through which he wander'd: That he himſelf was the occaſion why this Story of his di⯑vine Extraction is unknown; becauſe he neither told his Name, Race, nor Countrey, being aſham'd of his Exile, to which his reputed Father drove him from among the con⯑ſecrated Youths, on account of that Mark which their Prieſts eſteem'd a Teſtimony of an inceſtuous Birth."’
Theſe are the extravagant Stories by which Men, who have not been able to expreſs how much they admire him, tranſcend the Bounds of Probability to ſay ſomething extraordinary. The Mind, that becomes dazled with the Sight of his Performances, loſes the common Idea of a Man in the fanſy'd Splendor of Per⯑fection: It ſees nothing leſs than a God worthy to be his Fa⯑ther, nothing leſs than a Propheteſs deſerving to be his Nurſe, and, growing unwilling that he ſhould be ſpoken of in a Lan⯑guage beneath its Imaginations, delivers Fables in the place of Hiſtory.
But whatever has thus been offer'd to ſupport the Claim of Aegypt, they who plead for Greece are not to be accus'd for coming ſhort of it. Their Fanſie roſe with a Refinement above what we are ſuppos'd to have of their Maſters, and frequently the Veil of Fiction is wrought fine enough to be ſeen through, ſo that it hardly hides the Meaning it is made to cover, from the firſt Glance of the Imagination. For a Proof of this, we may [5] mention that Poetical Genealogy which is deliver'd for Homer's, in the d Greek Treatiſe of the Contention between him and Heſiod, and but little vary'd by the Relation of it in Suidas.
‘"The Poet Linus (ſay they) was born of Apollo and Thooſe, the Daughter of Neptune. Pierus of Linus: Oeagrus of King Pierus and the Nymph Methone: Orpheus of Oeagrus and the Muſe Calliope. From Orpheus came Othrys: from him Har⯑monides: from him Philoterpus: from him Euphemus: from him Epiphrades, who begot Menalops, the Father of Dius: Dius had Heſiod the Poet and Perſes by Pucamede, the Daugh⯑ter of Apollo. Then Perſes had Maeon, on whoſe Daughter Crytheis, the River Meles begot Homer."’
Here we behold a wonderful Genealogy contriv'd induſtriouſly to raiſe our Idea to the higheſt, where Gods, Goddeſſes, Muſes, Kings, and Poets link in a deſcent; nay, where Poets are made to depend, as it were, in Cluſters upon the ſame Stalk beneath one another. If we conſider too that Har⯑monides is deriv'd from Harmony, Philoterpus from love of De⯑light, Euphemus from beautiful Diction, Epiphrades from In⯑telligence, and Pucamede from Prudence; it may not be im⯑probable, but the Inventors meant, by a Fiction of this Nature, to turn ſuch Qualifications into Perſons as were agreeable to his Character, for whom the Line was drawn: So that every thing, Divine or Great, will thus come together by the extra⯑vagant Indulgence of Fancy, while it turns itſelf ſometimes to Admiration, and ſometimes to Allegory.
After this fabulous Tree of his Pedigree, we may regularly view him in one Paſſage concerning his Birth, which, though it differs in a Circumſtance from what has been here deliver'd, yet carries on the ſame Air, and regards the ſame Traditions. There is a ſhort Life of Homer attributed to Plutarch, wherein a third part of Ariſtotle on Poetry, which is now loſt, is quoted for an account of his uncommon Birth, in this manner. ‘"At the time when Neleus, the Son of Codrus, led the Colony which was ſent into Ionia, there was in the Iſland of Io a young Girl, compreſs'd by a Genius, who delighted to aſſo⯑ciate with the Muſes, and ſhare in their Conſorts. She, finding [6] herſelf with Child, and being touch'd with the Shame of what had happen'd to her, remov'd from thence to a Place call'd Aegina. There ſhe was taken in an Excurſion made by Robbers, and being brought to Smyrna, which was then un⯑der the Lydians, they gave her to Maeon the King, who mar⯑ry'd her upon account of her Beauty. But while ſhe walk'd on the Bank of the River Meles, ſhe brought forth Homer and expir'd. The Infant was taken by Maeon, and bred up as his Son, 'till the Death of that Prince."’ And from this Point of the Story the Poet is let down into his traditional Poverty. Here we ſee, tho' he be taken out of the Lineage of Meles where we met him before, he has ſtill as wonderful a Riſe in⯑vented for him; he is ſtill to ſpring from a Demigod, one who was of a Poetical Diſpoſition, from whom he might inherit a Soul turn'd to Poetry, and receive an Aſſiſtance of heavenly Inſpiration.
In his Life the moſt general Tradition concerning him is his Blindneſs, yet there are ſome who will not allow even this to have happen'd after the manner in which it falls upon other Men: Chance and Sickneſs are excluded; nothing leſs than Gods and Heroes muſt be viſibly concern'd about him. Thus we find among the different Accounts which e Hermias has collected concerning his Blindneſs, that when Homer reſolv'd to write of Achilles, he had an exceeding Deſire to fill his Mind with a juſt Idea of ſo glorious a Heroe: Wherefore, having paid all due Honours at his Tomb, he intreats that he may obtain a ſight of him. The Heroe grants his Poet's Petition, and riſes in a glorious Suit of Armour, which caſt ſo unſufferable a Splen⯑dor, that Homer loſt his Eyes, while he gaz'd for the Enlarge⯑ment of his Notions.
If this be any thing more than a meer Fable, one would be apt to imagine it inſinuated his contracting a Blindneſs by too intenſe an Application while he wrote his Iliad. But it is a very pompous way of letting us into the Knowledge of ſo ſhort a Truth: It looks as if Men imagin'd the Lives of Poets ſhould be Poetically written; that to ſpeak plainly of them, were to ſpeak contemptibly; or that we debaſe them, when they are [7] plac'd in leſs glorious Company than thoſe exalted Spirits which they themſelves have been fond to celebrate. We may however in ſome meaſure be reconcil'd to this laſt idle Fable, for having occaſion'd ſo beautiful an Epiſode in the Ambra of Politian. That which does not inform us in a Hiſtory, may pleaſe us in its proper Sphere of Poetry.
II. Stories of Ho⯑mer proceed⯑ing from En⯑vy. II. Such Stories as theſe have been the Effects of a ſuperſti⯑tious Fondneſs, and of our Aſtoniſhment at what we conſider in a View of Perfection. But neither have all Men the ſame Taſte, nor do they equally ſubmit to the Superiority of others, nor bear that human Nature, which they know to be imperfect, ſhould be prais'd in an Extream without oppoſition. From ſome Principles of this kind have ariſen a ſecond ſort of Stories, which glance at Homer with malignant Suppoſitions, and endeavour to throw a diminiſhing Air over his Life, as a kind of Anſwer to thoſe who ſought to aggrandize him injudiciouſly.
Under this Head we may reckon thoſe ungrounded Conjectures with which his Adverſaries aſperſe the very Deſign and Proſecution of his Travels, when they inſinuate, that they were one continued Search after Authors who had written before him, and particularly upon the ſame Subject, in order to deſtroy them, or to rob them of their Inventions.
Thus we read in f Diodorus Siculus, ‘"That there was one Daphne, the Daughter of Tireſias, who from her Inſpirations obtain'd the Title of a Sybil. She had a very extraordinary Genius, and being made Prieſteſs at Delphos, wrote Oracles with wonderful Elegance, which Homer ſought for, and adorn'd his Poems with ſeveral of her Verſes."’ But ſhe is plac'd ſo far in the fabulous Age of the World, that nothing can be averr'd of her: And as for the Verſes now aſcrib'd to the Sybils, they are more modern than to be able to confirm the Story; which, as it is univerſally aſſented to, diſcovers that whatever there is in them in common with Homer, the Compilers have rather taken from him; perhaps to ſtrengthen the Authority of their Work by the Protection of this Tradition.
[8] The next Inſinuation we hear is from Suidas, that Palamedes, who fought at Troy, was famous for Poetry, and wrote concern⯑ing that War in the Dorick Letter which he invented, proba⯑bly much againſt Agamemnon and Ulyſſes, his mortal Enemies. Upon this Account ſome have fancy'd his Works were ſuppreſs'd by Agamemnon's Poſterity, or that their entire Deſtruction was contriv'd and effected by Homer when he undertook the ſame Subject. But ſurely the Works of ſo conſiderable a Man, when they had been able to bear up ſo long a time as that which paſs'd between the Siege of Troy, and the flouriſhing of Homer, muſt have been too much diſpers'd, for one of ſo mean a Con⯑dition as he is repreſented, to have deſtroy'd in every place, tho' he had been never ſo much aſſiſted by the vigilant Temper of Envy. And we may ſay too, that what might have been capable of raiſing this Principle in him, muſt be capable of be⯑ing in ſome meaſure eſteem'd, and of having at leaſt one Line of it preſerv'd to us.
After him, in the order of time, we meet with a whole Set of Names, to whom the Maligners of Homer would have him oblig'd, without being able to prove their Aſſertion. Suidas mentions Corinnus Ilienſis, the Secretary of Palamedes, who writ a Poem upon the ſame Subject, but no one is produc'd as having ſeen it. g Tzetzes mentions (and from Johannes Melala only) Siſyphus the Coan, Secretary of Teucer, but it is not ſo much as known if he writ Verſe or Proſe. Beſides theſe, are Dictys the Cretan, Secretary to Idomeneus, and Dares the Phry⯑gian an Attendant of Hector, who have ſpurious Treatiſes paſſing under their Names. From each of theſe is Homer ſaid to have borrow'd his whole Argument; ſo inconſiſtent are theſe Stories with one another.
The next Names we find, are Demodocus, whom Homer might have met at Corcyra, and Phemius, whom he might have met at Ithaca: the one (as h Plutarch ſays) having according to Tradition written the War at Troy, the other the Return of the Grecian Captains. But theſe are only two Names of Friends, which he is pleas'd to honour with Eternity in his Poem, or two different Pictures of himſelf, as Author of the Iliad and [9] Odyſſes, or entirely the Children of his Imagination, without any particular Alluſion. So that his Uſage here, puts me in mind of his own Vulcan in the i Iliad: The God had caſt two Statues which he endued with the Power of Motion; and it is ſaid preſently after, that he is ſcarce able to go unleſs they ſupport him.
It is reported by ſome, ſays k Ptolomaeus Epheſtio, ‘"That there was before Homer, a Woman of Memphis, call'd Phantaſia, who writ of the Wars of Troy, and the Wandrings of Ulyſſes. Now Homer arriving at Memphis where ſhe had laid up her Works, and getting acquainted with Phanitas, whoſe Buſineſs it was to copy the ſacred Writings, he obtain'd a ſight of theſe, and follow'd entirely the Scheme ſhe had drawn."’ But this is a wild Story, which ſpeaks of an Aegyptian Woman with a Greek Name, and who never was heard of but upon this account. It appears indeed from his Knowledge of the Aegyptian Learning, that he was initiated into their Myſteries, and for ought we know by one Phanitas. But if we conſider what the Name of the Wo⯑man ſignifies, it ſeems only as if from being us'd in a figurative Expreſſion, it had been miſtaken afterwards for a proper Name. And then the Meaning will be, that having gather'd as much Information concerning the Grecian and Trojan Story, as he could be furniſh'd with from the Accounts of Aegypt, which were generally mix'd with Fancy and Fable, he wrought out his Plans of the Iliad and the Odyſſes.
We paſs all theſe Stories, together with the little Iliad of Sia⯑grus, mention'd by l Aelian. But one cannot leave this Subject without reflecting on the depreciating Humour, and odd Indu⯑ſtry of Man, which ſhews itſelf in raiſing ſuch a Number of In⯑ſinuations that claſh with each other, and in ſpiriting up ſuch a Crowd of unwarranted Names to ſupport them. Nor can we but admire at the contradictory Nature of this Proceeding, that Names of Works, which either never were in Being, or never worthy to live, ſhould be produc'd, only to perſuade us that the moſt laſting and beautiful Poem of the Ancients was taken out of them. A Beggar might be content to patch up a Garment [10] with ſuch Shreds as the World throws away, but it is never to be imagin'd an Emperor would make his Robes of them.
After Homer had ſpent a conſiderable time in Travel, we find him towards his Age introduc'd to ſuch an Action as tends to his Diſparagement. It is not enough to accuſe him for ſpoiling the dead, they raiſe a living Author by whom he muſt be baffled in that Qualification on which his Fame is founded.
There is in m Heſiod an Account of an ancient Poetical Con⯑tention at the Funeral of Amphidamas, in which, he ſays, he ob⯑tain'd the Prize, but does not mention from whom he carry'd it. There is alſo among the n Hymns aſcribed to Homer, a Prayer to Venus, for Succeſs in a Poetical Diſpute, but it neither men⯑tions where, nor againſt whom. But though they have neg⯑lected to name their Antagoniſts, others have ſince taken care to fill up the Stories by putting them together. The ma⯑king two ſuch conſiderable Names in Poetry engage, carries an amuſing Pomp in it, like making two Heroes of the firſt Rank enter the Liſts of Combat. And if Homer and Heſiod had their Parties among the Grammarians, here was an excellent Oppor⯑tunity for Heſiod's Favourers to make a Sacrifice of Homer. Hence might a bare Conjecture ſpread into a Tradition, then the Tradition give occaſion to an Epigram, which is yet extant, and again the Epigram (for want of knowing the Time it was writ in) be alledg'd as a Proof of that Conjecture from whence it ſprung. After this, a owhole Treatiſe was written upon it, which appears not very ancient, becauſe it mentions Adrian: The Story agrees in the main with the ſhort Account we find in p Plutarch, ‘"That q Ganictor, the Son of Amphidamas, King of Euboea, being us'd to celebrate his Father's funeral Games, invited from all Parts Men famous for Strength and Wiſdom. Among theſe Homer and Heſiod arriv'd at Chalcis. The King Panidas preſided over the Conteſt, which being finiſh'd, he decreed the Tripos to Heſiod, with this Elogy in the Sentence, That the Poet of Peace and Husbandry better deſerv'd to be crown'd, than he who ſtirs us up to War and Contention. [11] Whereupon Heſiod dedicated the Prize to the Muſes, with this Inſcription," [...] " [...]"’ Which are two Lines taken from that Place in Heſiod where he mentions no Antagoniſt, and alter'd, that the two Names might be brought in, as is evident by comparing them with theſe,
To anſwer this Story, we take notice that Heſiod is generally plac'd after Homer. Graevius, his own Commentator, ſets him a hundred Years lower; and whether he were ſo or no, yet r Plutarch has ſlightly paſs'd the whole Account as a Fable. Nay, we may draw an Argument againſt it from Heſiod himſelf: He had a Love of Fame which caus'd him to engage at the Funeral Games, and which went ſo far as to make him re⯑cord his Conqueſt in his own Works; Had he defeated Homer, the ſame Principle would have made him mention a Name that could have ſecur'd his own to Immortality. A Poet who records his Glory, would not omit the nobleſt Circumſtance, and Homer, like a Captive Prince, had certainly grac'd the Triumph of his Adverſary.
Towards the latter end of his Life, there is another Story invented, which makes him conclude it in a manner alto⯑gether beneath the Greatneſs of a Genius. We find in the Life ſaid to be written by Plutarch, a Tradition, ‘"That he was warn'd by an Oracle to beware of the young Mens Riddle. This remain'd long obſcure to him, 'til he arriv'd at the Iſland Io. There as he ſat to behold the Fiſhermen, they propos'd to him a Riddle in Verſe, which he being unable to anſwer, dy'd for Grief."’ This Story refutes itſelf by car⯑rying Superſtition at one end, and Folly at the other. It ſeems conceiv'd with an Air of Deriſion to lay a great Man in the [12] Duſt after a fooliſh Manner. The ſame ſort of Hand might have fram'd that Tale of Ariſtotle's drowning himſelf becauſe he could not account for the Euripus: The Deſign is the ſame, the Turn the ſame; and all the difference, that the great Men are each to ſuffer in his Character, the one by a Poetical Riddle, the other by a Philoſophical Problem. But theſe are Actions which can only proceed from the Meanneſs of Pride, or Extra⯑vagance of Madneſs: A Soul enlarg'd with Knowledge (ſo vaſtly as was that of Homer) better knows the proper Streſs which is to be laid upon every Incident, and the Proportion of Concern, or Careleſneſs, with which it ought to be affected. But it is the Fate of narrow Capacities to meaſure Mankind by a falſe Standard, and imagine the Great, like themſelves, capa⯑ble of being diſconcerted by little Occaſions; to frame their malignant Fables according to this Imagination, and to ſtand detected by it as by an evident Mark of Ignorance.
III. Stories of Ho⯑mer proceed⯑ing from tri⯑fling Curio⯑ſity. III. The third Manner in which the Life of Homer has been written, is but a heaping of all the Traditions and Hints which the Writers could meet with, great or little, in order to tell a Story of him to the World. Perhaps the want of choice Materials might put them upon the Neceſſity; or perhaps an injudicious Deſire of ſaying all they could, occaſion'd the fault. However it be, a Life compos'd of trivial Circumſtances, which (tho' it give a true account of ſeveral Paſſages) has but little of that Appearance in which a Man was moſt famous, and hardly any thing cor⯑reſpondent to the Idea we entertain of him: Such a Life, I ſay, will never anſwer rightly the demand the World has upon an Hiſtorian. Yet the moſt formal Account we have of Homer is of this Nature, I mean that which is ſaid to be collected by Herodotus. It is, in ſhort, an unſupported minute Treatiſe, compos'd of Events which lie within the Compaſs of Probability, and belong to the loweſt Sphere of Life. It ſeems through all its Frame to be entirely conducted by the Spirit of a Grammarian, ever abounding with extempore Verſes, as if it were to prove a thing ſo unqueſtionable as our Author's Title to Rapture; and at the ſame time the Occaſions are ſo poorly invented, that they misbecome the Warmth of a Poetical Imagination. There is nothing in it above the Life which a Grammarian might lead [13] himſelf; nay, it is but ſuch an one as they commonly do lead, the higheſt Stage of which is to be Maſter of a School. But becauſe this is a Treatiſe to which Writers have had recourſe for want of a better, I ſhall give the following Abſtract.
Homer was born at Smyrna, about one hundred ſixty eight Years after the Siege of Troy, and ſix hundred twenty two Years before the Expedition of Xerxes. His Mother's Name was Crytheis, who proving unlawfully with Child, was ſent away from Cumae by her Uncle, with Iſmenias, one of thoſe who led the Colony to Smyrna then building. A while after, as ſhe was celebrating a Feſtival with other Women on the Banks of the River Meles, ſhe was deliver'd of Homer, whom ſhe therefore nam'd Meleſigenes. Upon this ſhe left Iſmenias, and ſupported herſelf by Working, 'til Phemius (who taught a School in Smyrna) fell in love with her, and marry'd her. But both dying in proceſs of Time, the School fell to Homer, who manag'd it with ſuch Wiſdom, that he was univerſally admir'd both by Natives and Strangers. Amongſt theſe latter was Mentes, a Maſter of a Ship from Leucadia, by whoſe Perſuaſions and Pro⯑miſes he gave up his School, and went to travel: With him he viſited Spain and Italy, but was left behind at Ithaca upon ac⯑count of a Defluxion in his Eyes. During his Stay he was en⯑tertain'd by one Mentor, a Man of Fortune, Juſtice, and Hoſpi⯑tality, and learn'd the principal Incidents of Ulyſſes's Life. But at the Return of Mentes, he went from thence to Colophon, where, his Defluxion renewing, he fell entirely blind. Upon this he could think of no better Expedient than to go back to Smyrna, where perhaps he might be ſupported by thoſe who knew him, and have the leiſure to addict himſelf to Poetry. But there he found his Poverty encreaſe, and his hopes of En⯑couragement fail; ſo that he remov'd for Cumae, and by the way was entertain'd for ſome time at the Houſe of one Tychius a Leather-Dreſſer. At Cumae his Poems were wonderfully admir'd, but when he propos'd to eternize their Town if they would al⯑low him a Sallary, he was anſwer'd, That there would be no end of maintaining all the [...], or blind Men, and hence he got the Name of Homer. From Cumae he went to Phocaea, where one Theſtorides (a School-maſter alſo) offer'd to maintain him if he would ſuffer him to tranſcribe his Verſes: This Homer [14] complying with for meer Neceſſity, the other had no ſooner gotten them, but he remov'd to Chois; There the Poems gain'd him Wealth and Honour, while the Author himſelf hardly earn'd his Bread by repeating them. At laſt, ſome who came from Chios having told the People that the ſame Verſes were publiſh'd there by a School-maſter, Homer reſolv'd to find him out. Having therefore landed near that Place, he was receiv'd by one Glaucus a Shepherd (at whoſe Door he had like to have been worried by Dogs) and carry'd by him to his Maſter at Bolliſſus, who admi⯑ring his Knowledge, entruſted him with the Education of his Children. Here his Praiſe began to ſpread, and Theſtorides, who heard of his Neighbourhood, fled before him. He remov'd however ſome time afterwards to Chois, where he ſet up a School of Poetry, gain'd a competent Fortune, marry'd a Wife, and had two Daughters, the one of which dy'd young, the other was marry'd to his Patron at Bolliſſus. Here he inſerted in his Poems the Names of thoſe to whom he had been moſt oblig'd, as, Mentes, Phemius, Mentor, and Tychius: and reſolving for Athens, he made honourable mention of that City, to prepare the Athe⯑nians for a kind Reception. But as he went, the Ship put in at Samos, where he continu'd the whole Winter, ſinging at the Houſes of great Men, with a Train of Boys after him. In Spring he went on board again in order to proſecute his Journey to Athens, but landing by the way at Ios, he fell ſick, dy'd, and was bury'd on the Sea-Shore.
This is the Life of Homer aſcrib'd to Herodotus, tho' it is wonderful it ſhould be ſo, ſince it evidently contradicts his own Hiſtory, by placing Homer ſix hundred twenty two Years before the Expedition of Xerxes; whereas Herodotus himſelf, who was alive at the time of that Expedition, ſays Homer was only sfour hundred Years before him. However, if we can imagin that there may be any thing of Truth in the main Parts of this Treatiſe, we may gather theſe general Obſervations from it: That he ſhew'd a great Thirſt of Knowledge, by undertaking ſuch long and numerous Travels; That he manifeſted an un⯑exampled Vigor of Mind, by being able to write with more Fire under the Diſadvantages of Blindneſs, and the utmoſt Poverty, [15] than any Poet after him in better Circumſtances; And that he had an unlimited Senſe of Fame (the Attendant of noble Spirits) which prompted him to engage in new Travels, both under theſe Diſadvantages, and the additional Burthen of old Age.
But it will not perhaps be either improper or difficult to make ſome Conjectures, which ſeem to lay open the Foundation from whence the Traditions which frame the low Lives of Homer have ariſen. In the firſt place we may conſider, That there are no Hiſtorians of his Time (or none handed down to us) who have mention'd him; and that he has never ſpoken plainly of himſelf, in thoſe Works which have been aſcrib'd to him without Controverſy. However, an eager Deſire to know ſomething concerning him has occaſion'd Mankind to labour the Point under theſe Diſadvantages, and turn on all Hands to ſee if there were any thing left which might have the leaſt Appearance of Information. Upon the Search, they find no Remains but his Name and Works, and reſolve to torture theſe upon the Rack of Invention, in order to give ſome account of the Perſon they belong to.
The firſt Thing therefore they ſettle is, That what paſs'd for his Name, muſt be his Name no longer, but an additional Title us'd inſtead of it. The reaſon why it was given, muſt be ſome Accident of his Life. Having thus found an end of the Clue, they proceed to conſider every thing that the word may imply by its Derivation. One finds that [...] ſignifies a Thigh; whence ariſes the Tradition in t Heliodorus, that he was baniſh'd Aegypt for the Mark on that Part, which ſhew'd a ſpurious Birth; and this they imagine ground enough to give him the Life of a Wanderer. A ſecond finds that [...] ſignifies an Hoſtage, and then he muſt be deliver'd as ſuch in a War (ac⯑cording to u Proclus) between Smyrna and Chios. A third can derive the Name [...], non videns, from whence he muſt be a blind Man (as in the Piece aſcrib'd to x Herodotus.) A fourth brings him from [...], ſpeaking in Council; and then (as it is in Suidas) he muſt, by a divine Inſpiration, de⯑clare to the Smyrnaeans, that they ſhould war againſt Colophon. A fifth finds the word may be brought to ſignify following others, [16] or joining himſelf to them, and then he muſt be call'd Homer for ſaying (as it is quoted from y Ariſtotle in the Life aſcrib'd to Plutarch) that he would [...], or follow the Lydians from Smyrna. Thus has the Name been turn'd and winded enough at leaſt to give a Suſpicion, that he who got a new Etymology, got a handle either for a new Life of him, or ſomething which he added to the old one.
However, the Name itſelf not affording enough to furniſh out a whole Life, his Works muſt be brought in for Aſſiſtance, and it is taken for granted, That where he has not ſpoken of him⯑ſelf, he lies veil'd beneath the Perſons or Actions of thoſe whom he deſcribes. Becauſe he calls a Poet by the Name of Phemius in his Odyſſes, they conclude this z Phemius was his Maſter. Becauſe he ſpeaks of Demodocus as another Poet who was blind, and fre⯑quented Palaces, he muſt be ſent about ablind, to ſing at the Doors of rich Men. If Ulyſſes be ſet upon by Dogs at his Shepherd's Cottage, becauſe this is a low Adventure, it is thought to be his own at Bolliſſus. bAnd if he calls the Leather-dreſſer, who made Ajax's Shield, by the Name of Tychius, he has been ſupported by ſuch an one in his Wants: Nay, ſome have been ſo vio⯑lently carry'd into this way of conjecturing, that the bare c Si⯑mile of a Woman who works hard for her Livelihood, is ſaid to have been borrow'd from his Mother's Condition, and brought as a Proof of it. Thus he is ſtill imagin'd to intend himſelf; and the Fictions of Poetry, converted into real Facts, are deliver'd for his Life, who has aſſign'd them to others. All thoſe Sto⯑ries in his Works which ſuit with a mean Condition are ſuppos'd to have happen'd to him, tho' the ſame way of Inference might as well prove him to have acted in a higher Sphere, from the many Paſſages that ſhew his Skill in Government, and his Knowledge of the great Parts of Life.
There are ſome other ſcatter'd Stories of Homer which fall not under theſe Heads, but are however of as trifling a Nature; as much unfit for the Materials of Hiſtory, ſtill more unground⯑ed, if poſſible, and ariſing merely from Chance, or the Hu⯑mours of Men: Such is the Report we meet with from d Hera⯑clides, [17] That ‘"Homer was fin'd at Athens for a Madman;"’ which ſeems invented by the Diſciples of Socrates to caſt an Odium upon the Athenians for their conſenting to the Death of their Maſter, and carries in it ſomething like a declaiming Re⯑venge of the Schools, as if the World ſhould imagine the one could be eſteem'd mad, where the other was put to Death for being wicked. Such another Report is that in e Aelian, That ‘"Homer portion'd his Daughter with ſome of his Works for want of Money;"’ which looks but like a Whim deliver'd in the Gaiety of Fancy; a Jeſt upon a poor Wit, which at firſt might have had an Epigrammatiſt for its Father, and been af⯑terwards gravely underſtood by ſome painful Collector. In ſhort, Mankind have labour'd heartily about him to no purpoſe; they have caught up every thing greedily, with that buſy minute Curioſity and unſatisfactory Inquiſitiveneſs which Seneca calls the Diſeaſe of the Greeks; they have puzzled the Cauſe by their Attempts to find it out; and, like Travellers entirely deſtitute of a Road, yet reſolv'd to make it over unpaſſable Deſerts, they ſuperinduce Error, inſtead of removing Ignorance.
IV. Probable Conjectures concerning Homer. IV. Whenever Men have ſet themſelves to write a Life of Homer, clear from Superſtition, Envy, and Trifling, they have grown aſham'd of all theſe Traditions. This, however, has not occaſion'd every one to deſiſt from the Undertaking; but ſtill the Difficulty which could not make them deſiſt, has neceſſitated them, either to deliver the old Story with Excuſes; or elſe, in⯑ſtead of a Life, to compoſe a Treatiſe partly of Criticiſm, and partly of Character; rather deſcriptive, than ſupported by Action, and the Air of Hiſtory.
His Time. They begin with letting us know, that the Time in which he liv'd has never been fix'd beyond diſpute, and that the Opi⯑nions of Authors are various concerning it: But the Contro⯑verſy, in its ſeveral Conjectures, includes a Space of Years between the earlieſt and lateſt, from twenty four to about five hundred after the Siege of Troy. Whenever the Time was, it ſeems not to have been near that Siege, from his own f Invoca⯑tion of the Muſes to recount the Catalogue of the Ships: ‘"For [18] we, ſays he, have only heard a Rumour, and know nothing particularly."’ It is remark'd by g Velleius Paterculus, That it muſt have been conſiderably later, from his own Confeſſion, that Mankind was but half as ſtrong in his Age, as in that he writ of; which, as it is founded upon a Notion of a gra⯑dual Degeneracy in our Nature, diſcovers the Interval to have been long between Homer and his Subject. But not to trouble our ſelves with entring into all the dry Diſpute, we may here take notice, that the World is inclin'd to ſtand by the h Arun⯑delian Marble, as the moſt certain Computation of thoſe early Times; and this, by placing him at the time when Diog⯑netus rul'd in Athens, makes him flouriſh a little before the Olympiads were eſtabliſh'd; about three hundred Years after the taking of Troy, and near a thouſand before the Chri⯑ſtian Aera. For a farther Confirmation of this, we have ſome great Names of Antiquity, who give him a Cotem⯑porary agreeing with the Computation. i Cicero ſays, There was a Tradition that Homer liv'd about the time of Lycurgus. k Strabo tells us, It was reported that Lycurgus went to Chios for an Interview with him. And even l Plutarch, when he ſays, Lycurgus receiv'd Homer's Works from the Grandſon of that Creophilus with whom he had liv'd, does not put him ſo far back⯑ward, but that poſſibly they might have been alive together.
His Coun⯑try. The next Diſpute regards his Country, concerning which, m Adrian enquir'd of the Gods, as a Queſtion not to be ſettled by Men; and Appion (according to n Pliny) rais'd a Spirit for his Information. That which has encreas'd the difficulty, is the Number of conteſting Places, of which Suidas has reckon'd up nineteen in one Breath. But his ancient Commentator, o Didymus, found the Subject ſo fertile, as to employ a great Part of his four thouſand Volumes upon it. There is a Prophecy of the Sybils that he ſhould be born at Salamis in Cyprus; and then to play an Argu⯑ment of the ſame Nature againſt it, there is the Oracle given to [19] Adrian afterwards, that ſays he was born in Ithaca. There are Cuſtoms of Aeolia and Aegypt cited from his Works, to make out by turns, and with the ſame Probability, that he belong'd to each of them. There was a School ſhew'd for his at Colo⯑phon, and a Tomb at Io, both of equal Strength to prove he had his Birth in either. As for the Athenians, they challeng'd him as born where they had a Colony; or elſe in behalf of Greece in general, and as the Metropolis of its Learning, they made his Name free of their City, (qu. Liciniâ & Mutiâ lege, ſays p Politian) after the manner of that Law by which all Italy became free of Rome. All theſe have their Authors to record their Titles, but ſtill the Weight of the Queſtion ſeems to lie between Smyrna and Chios, which we muſt therefore take a little more notice of. That Homer then was born at Smyrna is endeavour'd to be prov'd by an q Epigram, recorded to have been under the Statue of Piſiſtratus at Athens; by the Reports mention'd in Cicero, Strabo, and A. Gellius; and by the Greek Lives, which are prefix'd to him with the Names of Herodotus, Plutarch, and Proclus; as alſo the two that are anonymous. For this the r Smyrnaeans built him a Temple, caſt Medals of him, and grew ſo poſſeſt of his having been theirs, that it is ſaid they burn'd Zoilus for affronting them in the Perſon of Homer. On the other hand, the Chians plead the ancient Authorities of s Simonides and t Theocritus for his being born among them. They mention a Race they had, call'd the Homeridae, whom they reckon'd his Poſterity; they caſt Medals of him; they ſhew to this Day an Homaerium, or Temple of Homer, near Bolliſſus; and cloſe their Arguments with a Quotation from the Hymn to Apollo (which is acknowledg'd for Homer's by u Thucydides) where he calls him⯑ſelf, ‘"The blind Man that inhabits Chios."’The Reader has here the Sum of the large Treatiſe of Leo Allatius, written par⯑ticularly [20] on this Subjectw, in which, after having ſeparately weigh'd the Pretenſions of all, he concludes for Chios. For my part, I determine nothing in a Point of ſo much Uncertainty; neither which of theſe was honour'd with his Birth, nor whether any of them was, nor, again, whether each may not have pro⯑duc'd his own Homer; ſince x Xenophon ſays, there were many of the Name. But one cannot avoid being ſurpriz'd at the prodi⯑gious Veneration of his Character, which could engage Mankind with ſuch Eagerneſs in a Point ſo little eſſential; that Kings ſhould ſend to Oracles for the Enquiry of his Birth-place; that Cities ſhould be in Strife about it, and whole Lives of learned Men employ'd upon it; that ſome ſhould write Treatiſes concerning it; that others ſhould call up Spirits unavailingly; that thus, in ſhort, Heaven, Earth and Hell ſhould be ſought to, for the Deciſion of a Queſtion which terminates in Curioſity only.
His Parents. If we endeavour to find the Parents of Homer, we imme⯑diately perceive the Search is fruitleſs. y Ephorus has made Maeon to be his Father, by a Niece whom he deflour'd; and this has ſo far obtain'd, as to give him the derivative Name of Maeonides. His Mother (if we allow the Story of Maeon) is call'd Crytheis: But we are loſt again in Uncertainty if we ſearch farther; for Suidas has mention'd Eumetis or Polycaſte; and z Pauſanias, Clymene or Themiſto; which happens, becauſe the conteſting Countrys find out Mothers of their own for him. Tradition has in this caſe afforded us no more Light, than what may ſerve to ſhew its Shadows in a Confuſion; they ſtrike the Sight with ſo equal a Probability, that we are in doubt which to chuſe, and muſt paſs the Queſtion undecided.
His Name. If we enquire concerning his own Name, even that is doubted of. He has been call'd Meleſigenes from the River where he was born. Homer has been reckon'd an aſcititious Name, from ſome Accident in his Life: The Certamen Homericum calls him once Auletes, perhaps from his muſical Genius; and a Lucian, Tigranes; it may be from a Confuſion with that Tigranes or b Tigretes, who was Brother of Queen Artemiſia, and whoſe Name has been ſo far mingled with his, as to make him be [21] eſteem'd Author of ſome of the leſſer Works which are aſcrib'd to Homer. It may not be amiſs to cloſe theſe Criticiſms with that agreeable Deriſion wherewith Lucian treats the over-buſy Humour of Grammarians in their Search after minute and im⯑poſſible Enquiries, when he feigns, that he had talk'd over the Point with Homer in the Iſland of the Bleſſed. ‘"I ask'd him, ſays he, of what Country he was? a Queſtion hard to be reſolv'd with Us: to which he anſwer'd, He could not cer⯑tainly tell, becauſe ſome had inform'd him, that he was of Chios, ſome of Smyrna, and others of Colophon; but he took himſelf for a Babylonian; called Tigranes, while he liv'd among his Country-men, and Homer, while he was an Hoſtage among the Graecians."’
His Blind⯑neſs At his Birth he appears not to have been blind, whatever he might be afterwards. The * Chian Medal of him (which is of great Antiquity, according to Leo Allatius) ſeats him with a Volume open, and reading intently: But there is no need of Proofs from Antiquity for that which every Line of his Works will demonſtrate. With what an Exactneſs, agreeable to the na⯑tural Appearance of Things, do his Cities ſtand, his Mountains riſe, his Rivers wind, and his Regions lie extended? How beau⯑tifully are the Surfaces of all things drawn in their Figures, and adorn'd with their Paintings? What Addreſs in Action, what viſible Characters of the Paſſions inſpirit his Heroes? It is not to be imagin'd, that a Man could have been always blind, who thus inimitably copies Nature, who gives every where the proper Proportion, Figure, Colour, and Life: ‘"Quem ſi quis caecum genitum putat (ſays c Paterculus) omnibus ſenſibus orbus eſt:"’ He muſt certainly have beheld the Creation, conſider'd it with a long Attention, and enrich'd his Fancy by the moſt ſenſible Knowledge of thoſe Ideas which he makes the Reader ſee while he but deſcribes them.
His Educa⯑tion and Maſter. As he grew forward in Years, he was train'd up to Learning (if we credit d Diodorus) under one ‘"Pronapides, a Man of ex⯑cellent natural Endowments, who taught the Pelaſgick Letter invented by Linus."’ From him might he learn to preſerve [22] his Poetry by committing it to Writing; which we mention, becauſe it is generally believ'd e no Poems before his were ſo preſerv'd; and he himſelf in the third Line of his Batrochomu⯑omachia (if that Piece be allow'd to be his) expreſsly ſpeaks of fwriting his Works in his Tablets.
His Travels. When he was of riper Years, for his farther Accompliſhment, and the Gratification of his Thirſt of Knowledge, he ſpent a conſiderable part of his time in travelling. Upon which ac⯑count, g Proclus has taken notice that he muſt have abounded in Riches: ‘"For long Travels, ſays he, occaſion high Expen⯑ces, and eſpecially at thoſe times when Men could neither ſail without imminent Danger and Inconveniences, nor had a regulated manner of Commerce with one another."’ This way of reaſoning appears very probable; and if it does not prove him to have been rich, it ſhews him, at leaſt, to have had Patrons of a generous Spirit, who, obſerving the Vaſtneſs of his Capacity, believ'd themſelves beneficent to Mankind, while they ſupported one who ſeem'd born for ſomething ex⯑traordinary.
Aegypt being at that time the Seat of Learning, the greateſt Wits and Genius's of Greece us'd to travel thither. Among theſe h Diodorus reckons Homer, and to ſtrengthen his Opinion, alledges that Multitude of their Notions which he has receiv'd into his Poetry, and of their Cuſtoms, to which he alludes in his Fictions: Such as his Gods, which are nam'd from the firſt Aegyptian Kings; the Number of the Muſes taken from the nine Minſtrels which attended Oſyris; the Feaſt wherein they us'd to ſend their Statues of the Deities into Aethiopia, and to return after twelve Days; and the carrying their dead Bodies over the Lake to a pleaſant Place call'd Acheruſia near Mem⯑phis, from whence aroſe the Stories of Charon, Styx, and Ely⯑ſium. Theſe are Notions which ſo abound in him, as to make i Herodotus ſay, He had introduc'd from thence the Religion of [23] Greece. And if others have believ'd he was an Aegyptian, from his Knowledge of their Rites and Traditions which were re⯑veal'd but to few; and of the Arts and Cuſtoms which were pra⯑ctis'd among them in general; it may prove at leaſt thus much, that he was there in his Travels.
As Greece was in all Probability his native Country, and had then began to make an Effort for Learning, we cannot doubt but he travel'd there alſo, with a particular Obſervation. He uſes the different Dialects which were ſpoken in its different Parts, as one who had been converſant with them all. But the Argu⯑ment which appears moſt irrefragable, is to be taken from his Ca⯑talogue of the Ships: He has there given us an exact Geography of Greece; where its Cities, Mountains, and Plains, are parti⯑cularly mention'd; where the Courſes of its Rivers are trac'd out; where the Countrys are laid in order, their Bounds aſſign'd, and the uſes of their Soils ſpecify'd; which the An⯑cients, who compar'd it with the Original, have allow'd to be ſo true in all Points, that it could never have been owing to a looſe and caſual Information. Even Strabo's Account of Greece is but a kind of Commentary upon Homer's.
We may carry this Argument farther, to ſuppoſe his having been round Aſia Minor, from his exact Diviſion of the Regnum Priami vetus (as Horace calls it) into its ſeparate Dynaſties, and the Account he gives of the bordering Nations in Alliance with it. Perhaps too, in the Wandrings of Ulyſſes about Sicily, whoſe Ports and neighbouring Iſlands are mention'd, he might con⯑trive to ſend his Heroe where he had made his own Voyage before. Nor will the Fables he has intermingled be any Obje⯑ction to his having travel'd in thoſe Parts, ſince they are not related as the Hiſtory of the preſent time, but the Tradition of the former. His mention of Thrace, his Deſcription of the Beaſts of Lybia, and of the Climate in the Fortunate Iſlands, may ſeem alſo to give us a view of him in the Extreams of the Earth, where it was not barbarous or uninhabited. It is hard to ſet limits to the Travels of a Man, who has ſet none to that deſire of Knowledge which made him undertake them. Who can ſay what People he has not ſeen, who appears to be vers'd in the Cuſtoms of all? He takes the Globe for the Scene in which he introduces his Subjects; he launches forward intre⯑pidly, [24] like one to whom no place is new, and appears a Citi⯑zen of the World in general.
When he return'd from his Travels, he ſeems to have apply'd himſelf to the finiſhing his Poems, however he might have ei⯑ther deſign'd, begun, or purſu'd them before. In theſe he has treaſur'd up his various Acquiſitions of Knowledge, where they have been preſerv'd through Ages, to be as well the Proofs of his own Induſtry, as the Inſtructions of Poſterity. He might then deſcribe his Sacrifices after the Aeolian manner; or khis Leagues with a Mixture of Trojan and Spartan Ceremonies: lHe could then compare the Confuſion of a Multitude to that Tu⯑mult he had obſerv'd in the Icarian Sea, daſhing and break⯑ing among its Crowd of Iſlands: He could repreſent the Num⯑bers of an Army, by thoſe Flocks of mSwans he had ſeen on the Banks of the Cayſter; or being to deſcribe that Heat of Battel with which Achilles drove the Trojans into the River, nhe could illuſtrate it with an Alluſion from Cyrene or Cyprus, where, when the Inhabitants burn'd their Fields, the Graſs-hoppers fled before the Fire to periſh in the Ocean. His Fancy being fully repleniſh'd, might ſupply him with every proper occaſional Image, and his Soul after having enlarg'd itſelf, and taken in an exten⯑ſive Variety of the Creation, might be equal to the Task of an Iliad and an Odyſſes.
His old Age and Death. In his Age, we hear he fell blind, and ſettled at Chios, as he ſays in the Hymn to Apollo, which (as is before obſerv'd) is acknowledg'd for his by Thucydides, and might occaſion both Simonides and Theocritus to call him a Chian. o Strabo relates, That Lycurgus, the great Legiſlator of Sparta, was reported to have gone to Chios to have a Conference with Homer, after he had ſtudy'd the Laws of Crete and Aegypt in order to form his Conſtitutions. If this be true, how much a nobler Repreſen⯑tation does it give of him, and indeed more agreeable to what we conceive of this mighty Genius, than thoſe ſpurious Accounts which keep him down among the meaneſt of Mankind? What an Idea could we frame to our ſelves of a Converſation, held between two Perſons ſo conſiderable; a Philoſopher conſcious of the Force of Poetry, and a Poet knowing in the Depths of [25] Philoſophy; both their Souls improv'd with Learning, both emi⯑nently rais'd above little Deſigns, or the meaner kind of Intereſt, and meeting together to conſult the Good of Mankind? But in this, I have only indulg'd a Thought which is not to be inſiſted upon; the Evidence of Hiſtory rather tends to prove that Ly⯑curgus brought his Works from Aſia after his Death: which p Proclus imagines to have happen'd at a great old Age, on ac⯑count of his Circumference of Learning, for which a ſhort Life could never ſuffice.
His Chara⯑cter and Manners. If we would now make a Conjecture concerning the Genius and Temper of this great Man; perhaps his Works, which would not furniſh us with Facts for his Life, will be more reaſonably made uſe of to give us a Picture of his Mind: To this end there⯑fore, we may ſuffer the very Name and Notion of a Book to vaniſh for a while, and look upon what is left us as a Conver⯑ſation, in order to gain an Acquaintance with Homer. Perhaps the general Air of his Works will become the general Character of his Genius, and the particular Obſervations give ſome Light to the particular Turns of his Temper. His comprehenſive Know⯑ledge ſhews that his Soul was not form'd like a narrow Chanel for a ſingle Stream, but as an Expanſe which might receive an Ocean into its Boſom; that he had the ſtrongeſt Deſire of Improve⯑ment, and an unbounded Curioſity, which made its Advantage of every tranſient Circumſtance, or obvious Accident. His ſolid and ſententious Manner may make us admire him for a Man of Judgment; one who, in the darkeſt Ages, could enter far into a Diſquiſition of human Nature; who, notwithſtanding all the Changes which Governments, Manners, Rites, and even the Notions of Virtue have undergone, could ſtill abound with ſo many Maxims correſpondent to Truth, and Notions applicable to ſo many Sciences. The Fire, which is ſo obſervable in his Poem, as to give every thing the moſt active Appearance, may make us naturally conjecture him to have been of a warm Temper, and lively Behaviour; and the pleaſurable Air which every where overſpreads it, may give us reaſon to think, that Fire of Imagination was temper'd with Sweetneſs and Affability. If we farther obſerve the Particulars he treats of, and imagine that [26] he laid a Streſs upon the Sentiments he delivers, purſuant to his real Opinions; we ſhall take him to be of a religious Spirit, by his inculcating in almoſt every Page the worſhip of the Gods. We ſhall imagine him to be a generous Lover of his Countrey, from his care to extol it every where: which is carry'd to ſuch a heighth, as to make q Plutarch obſerve, That though many of the Barbarians are made Priſoners or Suppliants, yet nei⯑ther of theſe diſgraceful Accidents (which are common to all Nations in War) ever happens to one Greek throughout his Works. We ſhall take him to be a compaſſionate Lover of Mankind, from his numberleſs Praiſes of Hoſpitality and Charity; (if indeed we are not to account for 'em, as the com⯑mon Writers of his Life imagine, from his owing his Support to theſe Virtues.) It might ſeem from his Love of Stories, with his manner of telling them ſometimes, that he gave his own Picture when he painted his Neſtor, and, as wiſe as he was, was no Enemy to Talking. One would think from his Praiſes of Wine, his copious Goblets, and pleaſing Deſcriptions of Ban⯑quets, that he was addicted to a chearful, ſociable Life, which Horace takes notice of as a kind of Tradition;
And that he was not (as may be gueſs'd of Virgil from his Works) averſe to the Female Sex, will appear from his care to paint them amiably upon all occaſions: His Andromache and Penelope are in each of his Poems moſt ſhining Characters of conjugal Affection; even his Helena herſelf is drawn with all the Softnings imaginable; his Souldiers are exhorted to combat with the hopes of Women; his Commanders are furniſh'd with fair Slaves in their Tents, nor is the venerable Neſtor without a Miſtreſs.
It is true, that in this way of turning a Book into a Man, this reaſoning from his Works to himſelf, we can at beſt but hit off a few Out-ſtrokes of a Character: Wherefore I ſhall decline the carrying it into more minute Points, and conclude with one Diſcovery which we may make from his Silence, a Diſ⯑covery extreamly proper to be made in this manner, which is, that he was of a very modeſt Temper. There is in all [27] other Poets a Cuſtom of ſpeaking of themſelves, and a Vanity of promiſing Eternity to their Writings: In both which Homer, who has the beſt Title to ſpeak out, is altogether ſilent. As to the laſt of them, the World has made him am⯑ple Recompence; it has given him that Eternity he would not promiſe himſelf: But whatever Endeavours have been offer'd in reſpect of the former, we find our ſelves ſtill under an irrepa⯑rable Loſs. That which others have ſaid of him has amounted to no more than Conjecture; that which I have ſaid is no far⯑ther to be inſiſted on: I have us'd the liberty which is indulg'd me by Precedent, to give in my Opinions among the Accounts of others, and the World may be pleas'd to receive them as ſo many willing Endeavours to gratify its Curioſity.
Catalogue of his Works. The only unconteſtable Works which Homer has left behind him are the Iliad and Odyſſes: The Batrachomuomachia or Battle of the Frogs and Mice, has been diſputed, but is however allow'd for his by many great Authorities; amongſt whom r Sta⯑tius has reckon'd it like the Culex of Virgil, a Trial of his Force before his larger Performances. It is indeed a beautiful Piece of Raillery, in which a great Writer may delight to unbend him⯑ſelf; an Inſtance of that agreeable Trifling, which has been at ſome time or other indulg'd by the fineſt Genius's, and the Off⯑ſpring of that amuſing and chearful Humour, which generally accompanies the Character of a rich Imagination, like a Vein of Mercury running mingled with a Mine of Gold.
The Hymns have been doubted alſo, and attributed by the Scholiaſts to Cynaethus the Rhapſodiſt; but notwithſtanding the Tradition, neither s Thucydides, t Lucian, nor u Pauſanias, have ſcrupled to cite them as genuine. We have the Authority of the two former for that to Apollo, tho' it be obſerv'd that the word [...] is found in it, which the Book de Poeſi Homericâ (aſcrib'd to Plutarch) tells us, was not in uſe in Homer's Time. We have alſo an Authority of the laſt for a w Hymn to Ceres, of which he has given us a Fragment. That to Mars is objected againſt for mentioning [...], and that which is the firſt to Minerva for uſing [...], both of them being (according to the [28] Author of the Treatiſe before mention'd) words of a later In⯑vention. The Hymn to Venus has many of its Lines copy'd by Virgil in the Enterview between Aeneas, and that Goddeſs in the firſt Aeneid: But whether theſe Hymns are Homer's or not, they are always judg'd to be near as ancient, if not of the ſame Age with him.
The Epigrams are extracted out of the Life ſaid to be written by Herodotus, and we leave them as ſuch to ſtand or fall with it; except the Epitaph on Midas, which is of very an⯑cient Authority, quoted without its Author both by x Plato and y Longinus, and (according to z Laertius) aſcrib'd by Simonides to Cleobulus the wiſe Man; who living long after Homer anſwers better to the Age of Midas the Son of Gordias.
The Margites, which is loſt, is ſaid by a Ariſtotle to have been a Poem of a comick Nature, wherein Homer made uſe of Iambick Verſes as proper for Raillery. It was a Jeſt upon the Fair Sex, and had its Name from one Margites, a weak Man who was the Subject of it. The Story is ſomething looſe, as may be ſeen by the Account of it ſtill preſerv'd in b Euſtathius's Comment on the Odyſſes.
The Cercopes was a Satyrical Work which is alſo loſt; we may however imagine it was level'd againſt the Vices of Men, if our Conjecture be right that it was founded upon the cold Fable of the Cercopes, a Nation who were turn'd into Monkies for their Frauds and Impoſtures.
The Deſtruction of Oechalia, was a Poem of which (according to Euſtathius) Hercules was the Heroe; and the Subject, his ra⯑vaging that Countrey; becauſe Eurytus the King had deny'd him his Daughter Iole.
The Ilias Minor was a Piece which included both the taking of Troy, and the return of the Graecians; In this was the Story of Sinon, which Virgil has made uſe of: d Ariſtotle has judg'd it not to belong to Homer.
The Cypriacks, if it was upon them that Nevius founded his Ilias Cypria, (as eMr. Dacier conjectures) were the Love-Adventures [29] of the Ladies at the Siege: theſe are rejected by f Herodotus, for ſaying that Paris brought Helen to Troy in three Days; whereas Homer aſſerts they were long driven from Place to Place.
There are alſo other Things aſcrib'd to him, ſuch as the Heptapection Goat, the Arachnomachia, &c. in the ludi⯑crous Manner; and the Thebais, Epigoni, or ſecond Siege of Thebes, the Phocais, Amazonia, &c. in the ſerious: which, if they were his, are now to be reputed a real Loſs to the learned World. Time, in ſome Things, may have prevail'd over Homer himſelf, and left only the Names of theſe Works as Memorials that ſuch were in being; but while the Iliad and Odyſſes remain, he ſeems like a Leader, who, tho' he may have fail'd in a Skirmiſh, has carry'd a Victory, for which he paſſes in Triumph through all future Ages.
Monu⯑ments, Coins, Mar⯑bles, remain⯑ing of him. THE Remains we have at preſent of thoſe Monuments Antiquity had fram'd for him, are but few. It could not be thought that they who knew ſo little of the Life of Homer, could have a right Knowledge of his Perſon; yet had they Statues of him as of their Gods, whoſe Forms they had never ſeen. ‘"Quinimò quae non ſunt, finguntur (ſays g Pliny) pa⯑riuntque deſideria non traditi vultûs, ſicut in Homero evenit."’ But tho' the ancient Portraits of him ſeem purely notional, yet they agree (as I think h Fabretti has ob⯑ſerv'd) in repreſenting him with a ſhort curl'd Beard, and diſtinct Marks of Age in his Forehead. That which is pre⯑fix'd to this Book, is taken from an ancient Marble Buſt, in the Palace of Farneſe at Rome.
In Bolliſſus near Chios there is a Ruin, which was ſhown for the Houſe of Homer, which i Leo Allatius went on Pilgrimage to viſit, and (as he tells us) found nothing but a few Stones crumbling away with Age, over which he and his Compa⯑nions wept for Satisfaction.
[30] They erected Temples to Homer in Smyrna, as appears from k Cicero; one of theſe is ſuppos'd to be yet extant, and the ſame which they ſhow for the Temple of Janus. It agrees with l Strabo's Deſcription, a ſquare Building of Stone, near a River, thought to be the Meles, with two Doors op⯑poſite to each other, North and South, and a large Niche within the Eaſt-Wall, where the Image ſtood: But M. Spon denies this to be the true Homaerium.
Of the Medals ſtruck for him, there are ſome both of Chios and Smyrna ſtill in being, and exhibited at the beginning of this Eſſay. The moſt valuable with reſpect to the Large⯑neſs of the Head is that of Amaſtris, which is carefully co⯑pied from an Original belonging to the preſent Earl of Pem⯑broke, and is the ſame which Gronovius Cuperus and Dacier have Copies of, but very incorrectly performed.
But that which of all the Remains has been of late the chief Amuſement of the Learned, is the Marble call'd his Apotheoſis, the Work of Archelaus of Priene, and now in the Palace of Colonna. We ſee there a Temple hung with its Veil, where Homer is plac'd on a Seat with a Footſtool to it, as he has deſcrib'd the Seats of his Gods; ſupported on each ſide with Figures known for the Iliad and the Odyſſes, the one by the Sword, the other by the Ornament of a Ship, which denotes the Voyages of Ulyſſes. On each ſide of his Foot⯑ſtool are Mice, in Alluſion to the Batrachomuomachia. Behind, is Time waiting upon him, and a Figure with Turrets on its Head, which ſignifies the World, crowning him with the Laurel. Before him is an Altar, at which all the Arts are ſacrificing to him as to their Deity. On one ſide of the Altar ſtands a Boy, repreſenting Mythology, on the other, a Woman, repreſenting Hiſtory; after her is Poetry bringing the Sacred Fire; and in a long following Train, Tragedy, Comedy, Nature, Virtue, Memory, Rhetorick, and Wiſdom, in all their proper Attitudes.
SECT. II.
[31]HAVING now finiſh'd what was propos'd concerning the Hiſtory of Homer's Life, I ſhall proceed to that of his Works; and conſidering him no longer as a Man, but as an Author, proſecute the Thread of his Story in this his ſecond Life, thro' the different Degrees of Eſteem which thoſe Writings have obtain'd in different Periods of Time.
It has been the fortune of ſeveral great Genius's not to be known while they liv'd, either for want of Hiſtorians, the Meanneſs of Fortune, or the Love of Retirement, to which a Poetical Temper is peculiarly addicted. Yet after Death their Works give themſelves a Life in Fame, without the help of an Hiſtorian; and, notwithſtanding the Meanneſs of their Author, or his Love of Retreat, they go forth among Mankind, the Glories of that Age which produc'd them, and the Delight of thoſe which follow it. This is a Fate particularly verify'd in Homer, than whom no conſi⯑derable Author is leſs known as to himſelf, or more highly valu'd as to his Productions.
The firſt Publication of his Works by Lycur⯑gus. The earlieſt Account of theſe is ſaid by a Plutarch to be ſome time after his Death, when Lycurgus ſail'd to Aſia: ‘"There he had the firſt ſight of Homer's Works, which were probably preſerv'd by the Grand-children of Creophilus; and having obſerv'd that their pleaſurable Air of Fiction did not hinder the Poets abounding in Maxims of State, and Rules of Morality, he tranſcrib'd and carry'd with him that entire Collection we have now among us: For at that time (continues this Author) there was only an ob⯑ſcure Rumour in Greece to the Reputation of theſe Poems, and but a few ſcatter'd Fragments handed about, 'till Ly⯑curgus publiſh'd them entire."’ Thus they were in danger of being loſt as ſoon as they were produced, by the Misfor⯑tune of the Age, a want of Taſte in Learning, or the man⯑ner [32] in which they were left to Poſterity, when they fell into the Hands of Lycurgus. He was a Man of great Learning, a Law-giver to a People divided and untractable, and one who had a Notion that Poetry influenc'd and civiliz'd the Minds of Men; which made him ſmooth the way to his Conſtitution by the Songs of Thales the Cretan, whom he en⯑gag'd to write upon Obedience and Concord. As he propos'd to himſelf that the Conſtitution he would raiſe upon this their Union ſhould be of a martial Nature, theſe Poems were of an extraordinary Value to him: for they came with a full Force into his Scheme; the Moral they inſpir'd was Unity; the Air they breath'd was Martial; and their Story had this particular Engagement for the Lacedaemonians, that it ſhew'd Greece in War, and Aſia ſubdu'd under the Conduct of one of their own Monarchs, who commanded all the Graecian Princes. Thus the Poet both pleas'd the Law-giver, and the People: from whence he had a double Influence when the Laws were ſettled. For his Poem then became a Panegyrick on their Conſtitution, as well as a Regiſter of their Glory; and confirm'd them in the Love of it by a gallant Deſcri⯑ption of thoſe Qualities and Actions for which it was adapted. This made b Cleomenes call him The Poet of the Lacedaemonians: And therefore when we remember that Homer owed the Pub⯑lication of his Works to Lycurgus, we ſhould grant too, that Lycurgus owed in ſome degree the Enforcement of his Laws to the Works of Homer.
Their Re⯑ception in Greece At their firſt Appearance in Greece, they were not digeſted into a regular Body, but remain'd as they were brought over in ſeveral detach'd Pieces, call'd (according to c Aelian) from the Subject on which they treated; as the Battle at the Ships, the Death of Dolon, the Valour of Agamemnon, the Patro⯑clea, the Grot of Calypſo, Slaughter of the Wooers, and the like. Nor were theſe entitled Books, but Rhapſodies; from whence they who ſung them had the Title of Rhapſodiſts. It was in this manner they began to be diſperſt, while their Poetry, their Hiſtory, the Glory they aſcrib'd to Greece in general, the particular Deſcription they gave of it, and the [33] Compliment they paid to every little State by an honourable mention, ſo influenc'd all, that they were tranſcrib'd and ſung with general Approbation. But what ſeems to have moſt re⯑commended them was, that Greece which could not be great in its divided Condition, looked upon the Fable of them as a likely Plan of future Grandeur. They ſeem from thenceforward to have had an Eye upon the Conqueſt of Aſia; as a proper Undertaking which by its Importance might occaſion Union enough to give a Diverſion from Civil Wars, and by its Proſecution bring in an Acquiſition of Honour and Empire. This is the meaning of d Iſocrates, when he tells us, That ‘"Homer's Poetry was in the greater Eſteem, becauſe it gave exceeding Praiſe to thoſe who fought againſt the Barbarians. Our Anceſtors (continues he) honour'd it with a Place in Education and muſical Conteſts, that by often hearing it we ſhould have a Notion of an original Enmity between us and thoſe Nations; and that admiring the Virtue of thoſe who fought at Troy, we ſhould be in⯑duc'd to emulate their Glory."’ And indeed they never quitted this thought, 'till they had ſucceſsfully carry'd their Arms where-ever Homer might thus excite them.
Digeſted into order at A⯑thens. But while his Works were ſuffer'd to lie in an unconnected manner, the Chain of Story was not always perceiv'd, ſo that they loſt much of their Force and Beauty by being read diſ⯑orderly. Wherefore as Lacedaemon had the firſt Honour of their Publication by Lycurgus, that of their Regulation fell to the ſhare of Athens in the time of e Solon, who himſelf made a Law for their recital. It was then that Piſiſtratus, the Ty⯑rant of Athens, who was a Man of great Learning and Elo⯑quence (as f Cicero has it) firſt put together the confus'd Parts of Homer, according to that Regularity in which they are now [34] handed down to us. He divided them into the two different Works, entitled the Iliad and Odyſſes; he digeſted each ac⯑cording to the Author's deſign, to make their Plans become evident; and diſtinguiſh'd each again into twenty four Books, to which were afterwards prefix'd the twenty four Letters. There is a Paſſage indeed in g Plato, which takes this Work from Piſiſtratus, by giving it to his Son Hypparchus; with this addition, that he commanded them to be ſung at the Feaſt call'd Panathenaea. Perhaps it may be, as h Leo Allatius has imagin'd, becauſe the Son publiſh'd the Copy more cor⯑rectly: This he offers, to reconcile ſo great a Teſtimony as Plato's to the Cloud of Witneſſes which are againſt him in it: But be that as it will, Athens ſtill claims its proper Honour of reſcuing the Father of Learning from the Injuries of Time, of having reſtor'd Homer to himſelf, and given the World a view of him in his Perfection. So that if his Verſes were before admir'd for their Uſe and Beauty, as the Stars were before they were conſider'd in a Syſtem of Science; they are now admir'd much more for their graceful Harmony, and that Sphere of Order in which they appear to move. They became henceforward more the Pleaſure of the Wits of Greece; more the Subject of their Studies, and the Employment of their Pens.
About the time that this new Edition of Homer was pub⯑liſh'd in Athens, there was one Cynaethus, a learned Rhap⯑ſodiſt, who (as the i Scholiaſt of Pindar informs us) ſettled firſt at Syracuſe in that Employment; and if (as Leo Allatius be⯑lieves) he had been before an Aſſiſtant in the Edition, he may be ſuppos'd to have firſt carry'd it abroad. But it was not long preſerv'd correct among his Followers; they com⯑mitted Miſtakes in their Tranſcriptions and Repetitions, and had even the Preſumption to alter ſome Lines, and interpo⯑late others. Thus the Works of Homer ran the danger of being utterly defac'd; which made it become the concern of Kings and Philoſophers, that they ſhould be reſtor'd to their Primitive Beauty.
[35] The Edition in Macedon under Alex⯑ander. In the Front of theſe is Alexander the Great, for whom they will appear peculiarly calculated, if we conſider that no Books more enliven or flatter perſonal Valour, which was great in him to what we call Romantick: Neither has any Book more places applicable to his Deſigns on Aſia, or (as it happen'd) to his Actions there. It was then no ill Compli⯑ment in k Ariſtotle to purge the Iliad, upon his account, from thoſe Errors and Additions which had crept into it. And ſo far was Alexander himſelf from eſteeming it a Matter of ſmall Importance, that he afterwards l aſſiſted in a ſtrict Review of it with Anaxarchus and Caliſthenes; whether it was meerly becauſe he eſteem'd it a Treaſury of military Virtue and Know⯑ledge; or that (according to a late ingenious Conjecture) he had a farther Aim, in promoting the Propagation of it when he was ambitious to be eſteem'd a Son of Jupiter; as a Book which treating of the Sons of the Gods, might make the In⯑tercourſe between them and Mortals become a familiar No⯑tion. The Review being finiſh'd, he laid it up in a Casket which was found among the Spoils of Darius as what beſt de⯑ſerv'd ſo ineſtimable a Caſe, and from this Circumſtance it was nam'd The Edition of the Casket.
Editions in Aegypt. The Place where the Works of Homer were next found in the greateſt Regard, is Aegypt, under the Reign of the Pto⯑lomys. Theſe Kings being deſcended from Greece retain'd always a Paſſion for their original Country. The Men, the Books, the Qualifications of it, were in eſteem in their Court; they preſerv'd the Language in their Family; they encourag'd a Concourſe of learned Men; erected the greateſt Library in the World; and train'd up their Princes under Graecian Tu⯑tors; among whom the moſt conſiderable were appointed for Reviſers of Homer. The firſt of theſe was m Zenodotus, Li⯑brary-Keeper to the firſt Ptolomy, and qualify'd for this Un⯑dertaking by being both a Poet, and a Grammarian; a com⯑pounded Character in which there was Fancy for a Diſco⯑very [36] of Beauties, and a minuter Judgment for a Detection of Faults. But neither his Copy nor that which his Diſciple Ariſtophanes had made, ſatisfying Ariſtarchus, (whom Ptolomy Philometor had appointed over his Son Euergetes) he ſet him⯑ſelf to another Correction with all the Wit and Learn⯑ing he was Maſter of. He reſtor'd ſome Verſes to their for⯑mer Readings, rejected others which he mark'd with Obe⯑lisks as ſpurious, and proceeded with ſuch induſtrious Ac⯑curacy, that, notwithſtanding there were ſome who wrote againſt his Performance, Antiquity has generally acquieſc'd in it. Nay, ſo far have they carry'd their Opinion in his fa⯑vour, as to call a Man an n Ariſtarchus when they meant to ſay a candid, judicious Critick; in the ſame manner as they call the contrary a Zoilus, from that Zoilus who about this time wrote an envious Criticiſm againſt Homer. And now we mention theſe two together, I fancy it will be no ſmall Pleaſure to the benevolent Part of Mankind, to ſee how their Characters ſtand in Contraſt to each other, for Examples to future Ages, at the head of the two contrary ſorts of Criti⯑ciſm, which proceed from good Nature, or from ill Will. The one was honour'd with the Offices and Countenance of the Court; the other, owhen he apply'd to the ſame Place for an Encouragement amongſt the Men of Learning, had his Petition rejected: The one had his Fame continu'd to Poſterity; the other is only remember'd with Infamy: If the one had Antagoniſts, they were oblig'd to pay him the deference of a formal Anſwer; the other was never anſwer'd but in general, with thoſe opprobrious Names of Thracian Slave and Rhetorical Dog: The one is ſuppos'd to have his Copy ſtill remaining; while the other's Remarks are periſh'd as things that Men were aſham'd to preſerve, the juſt De⯑ſert of whatever ariſes from the miſerable Principles of ill Will or Envy.
In Syria and other Parts of Aſia. It was not the Ambition of Aegypt only to have a correct Edition of Homer. We find in the pLife of the Poet Aratus, that he, having finiſh'd a Copy of the [37] Odyſſes, was ſent for by Antiochus King of Syria, and enter⯑tain'd by him while he finiſh'd one of the Iliad. We read too of others which were publiſh'd with the Names of Countrys; ſuch as the q Maſſaliotick and Synopick: as if the World were agreed to make his Works in their Survival un⯑dergo the ſame Fate with himſelf; and that as different Cities contended for his Birth, ſo they might again contend for his true Edition. But though theſe Reviews were not peculiar to Aegypt, the greateſt Honour was theirs, in that univerſal Approbation which the Performance of Ariſtarchus receiv'd; and if it be not his Edition which we have at preſent, we know not to whom to aſcribe it.
In India and Perſia. But the World was not contented barely to have ſettled an Edition of his Works. There were innumerable Comments in which they were open'd like a Treaſury of Learning; and Tranſlations whereby other Languages became enrich'd by an Infuſion of his Spirit of Poetry. r Aelian tells us, that even the Indians had them in their Tongue, and the Perſian Kings ſung them in theirs. s Perſius mentions a Verſion into Latin by Labeo, and in general the Paſſages and Imitations which are taken from him, are ſo numerous that he may be ſaid to have been tranſlated by piecemeal into that, and all other Languages. Which affords us this Remark, that there is hardly any thing in him, which has not been pitch'd upon by ſome Author or other for a particular Beauty.
The Extent and Height of their Re⯑putation in the Heathen World. It is almoſt incredible to what an Height the Idea of that Veneration the Ancients paid to Homer will ariſe, to one who reads particularly with this view, through all theſe Pe⯑riods. He was no ſooner come from his Obſcurity, but Greece receiv'd him with Delight and Profit: There were then but few Books to divide their Attention, and none which had a better Title to engroſs it all. They made ſome daily Diſco⯑veries of his Beauties, which were ſtill promoted in their different Channels by the favourite Qualities of different Na⯑tions. Sparta and Macedon conſider'd him moſt in reſpect of his warlike Spirit; Athens and Aegypt with regard to his Poetry and Learning; and all their Endeavours united under [38] the Hands of the Learned, to make him blaze forth into an univerſal Character. His Works, which from the beginning paſs'd for excellent Poetry, grew to be Hiſtory and Geography; they roſe to be a Magazine of Sciences; were exalted into a Scheme of Religion; gave a Sanction to whatever Rites they mention'd; were quoted in all Caſes for the Conduct of Life, and learned by Heart as the very Book of Belief and Practice. From him the Poets drew their Inſpirations, the Criticks their Rules, and the Philoſophers a Defence of their Opinions: Every Author was fond to uſe his Name; and every Profeſſion writ Books upon him, 'till they ſwell'd to Libraries. The Warriors form'd themſelves by his Heroes, and the Oracles deliver'd his Verſes for Anſwers. Nor was Mankind ſatisfy'd to have thus ſeated his Character at the top of human Wiſ⯑dom, but being overborn with an imagination that he tranſ⯑cended their Species, they admitted him to ſhare in thoſe Honours they gave the Deities. They inſtituted Games for him, dedicated Statues, erected Temples, as at Smyrna, Chios and Alexandria; and t Aelian tells us, That when the Argives ſacrific'd with their Gueſts, they us'd to invoke the Preſence of Apollo and Homer together.
The Decline of their Cha⯑racter in the beginning of Chriſtianity. Thus he was ſettled on a Foot of Adoration, and conti⯑nu'd highly venerated in the Roman Empire, when Chriſtia⯑nity began. Heatheniſm was then to be deſtroy'd, and Homer appear'd the Father of it; whoſe Fictions were at once the Belief of the Pagan Religion, and the Objections of Chriſtianity againſt it. He became therefore very deeply involv'd in the Queſtion; and not with that Honour which hitherto attended him, but as a Criminal who had drawn the World into Folly. He was on one hand accus'd for having fram'd *Fables upon the Works of Moſes; as the Rebellion of the Giants from the building of Babel, and the caſting Atè or Strife out of Heaven from the Fall of Lucifer. He was ex⯑pos'd on the other hand for thoſe which he is ſaid to invent, as when u Arnobius crys out, ‘"This is the Man who wounded your Venus, impriſon'd your Mars, who free'd even your Jupiter by Briareus, and who finds Authorities for [39] all your Vices,"’ &c. Mankind was wderided for what⯑ever he had hitherto made them believe; and x Plato, who expell'd him his Commonwealth, has, of all the Philoſophers, found the beſt Quarter from the Fathers, for paſſing that Sentence. His fineſt Beauties began to take a new Ap⯑pearance of pernicious Qualities; and becauſe they might be conſider'd as Allurements to Fancy, or Supports to thoſe Errors with which they were mingled, they were to be de⯑preciated while the Conteſt of Faith was in being. It was hence, that the reading them was diſcourag'd, that we hear Ruffinus accuſing St. Jerome for it, and that ySt. Auſtin rejects him as the grand Maſter of Fable; tho' indeed the dulciſſimè vanus which he applies to Homer, looks but like a fondling manner of parting with him.
This ſtrong Attack againſt our Author oblig'd thoſe Phi⯑loſophers who could have acquieſc'd as his Admirers, to ap⯑pear as his Defenders; who becauſe they ſaw the Fables could not be literally ſupported, endeavour'd to find a hidden Senſe, and to carry on every where that Vein of Allegory which was already broken open with Succeſs in ſome Places. But how miſerably were they forc'd to Shifts, when they made z Juno's dreſſing in the Ceſtos for Jupiter to ſignify the purging of the Air as it approach'd the Fire? Or the Story of Mars and Venus, that Inclination they have to Inconti⯑nency who are born when theſe Planets are in Conjunction? Wit and Learning had here a large Field to diſplay them⯑ſelves, and to diſagree in: for ſometimes Jupiter, and ſome⯑times Vulcan, was made to ſignify the Fire; or Mars and Venus were allow'd to give us a Lecture of Morality at one time, and a Problem of Aſtronomy at another. And theſe ſtrange Diſcoveries, which a Porphyry and the reſt would have to paſs for the genuine Theology of the Greeks, prove but (as b Euſebius terms it) the perverting of Fables into a myſtick Senſe. They did indeed often defend Homer, but then they allegorized away their Gods by doing ſo. What the World took for ſubſtantial Objects of Adoration, diſſolv'd before its [40] Eyes into a figurative Meaning, a moral Truth, or a Piece of Learning which might equally correſpond to any Religion; and the Learned at laſt had left themſelves nothing to wor⯑ſhip, when they came to find an Object in Chriſtianity.
Reſtoration of Homer's Works to their juſt Character. The Diſpute of Faith being over, ancient Learning re-aſ⯑ſumed its Dignity, and Homer obtain'd his proper Place in the Eſteem of Mankind. His Books are now no longer the Scheme of a living Religion, but become the Regiſter of one of former Times. They are not now receiv'd for a Rule of Life, but valu'd for thoſe juſt Obſervations which are diſpers'd through them. They are no longer pronounc'd from Ora⯑cles, but quoted ſtill by Authors for their Learning. Thoſe Remarks which the Philoſophers made upon them, have their Weight with us; thoſe Beauties which the Poets dwell'd upon, their Admiration: And even after the Abatement of what was extravagant in his Run of Praiſe, he remains con⯑feſſedly a mighty Genius not tranſcended by any which have ſince ariſen; a Prince, as well as a Father, of Poetry.
SECT. III.
A View of the Learn⯑ing of Homer's Time. IT remains in this Hiſtorical Eſſay, to regulate our pre⯑ſent Opinion of Homer by a view of his Learning, compar'd with that of his Age. For this end he may firſt be conſider'd as a Poet, that Character which was his pro⯑feſſedly; and ſecondly as one endow'd with other Sciences, which muſt be ſpoken of not as in themſelves, but as in Subſerviency to his main Deſign. Thus he will be ſeen on his right Foot of Perfection in one view, and with the juſt Allowances which ſhould be made on the other: While we paſs through the ſeveral Heads of Science, the State of thoſe Times in which he writ will ſhow us both the Impediments he roſe under, and the Reaſons why ſeveral things in him which have been objected to, either could not, or ſhould not be otherwiſe than they are.
In Poetry. As for the State of Poetry, it was at a low Pitch in the Age of Homer. There is mention of Orpheus, Linus, and [41] Muſaeus, venerable Names in Antiquity, and eminently cele⯑brated in Fable for the wonderful Power of their Songs and Muſick. The learned Fabricius, in his Bibliotheca Graeca, has reckon'd about ſeventy who are ſaid to have written before Homer: but their Works were not preſerv'd, and can be only conſider'd (if they were really excellent) as the Happineſs of their own Generation. What ſort of Poets Homer ſaw in his own Time may be gather'd from his Deſcription of a Demo⯑docus and Phemius, whom he has introduc'd as Opportunities to celebrate his Profeſſion. The imperfect Riſings of the Art lay then among the Extempore-Singers of Stories at Ban⯑quets, who were half Singers, half Muſicians. Nor was the Name of Poet then in being, or once us'd throughout Homer's Works. From this poor State of Poetry, he has taken a handle to uſher it into the World with the boldeſt Stroke of Praiſe which has ever been given it. It is in the eighth Odyſſey, where Ulyſſes puts Demodocus upon a trial of Skill. Demo⯑docus having diverted the Gueſts with ſome Actions of the Trojan War; ‘"bAll this (ſays Ulyſſes) you have ſung very elegantly, as if you had either been preſent, or heard it reported; but paſs now to a Subject I ſhall give you, ſing the Management of Ulyſſes in the wooden Horſe, juſt as it happen'd, and I will acknowledge the Gods have taught you your Songs."’ This the Singer being inſpir'd from Heaven begins immediately, and Ulyſſes by weep⯑ing at the recital confeſſes the Truth of it. We ſee here a Narration which could only paſs upon an Age ex⯑treamly ignorant in the Nature of Poetry, where that Claim of Inſpiration is given to it, which it has never ſince laid down, and (which is more) a Power of prophecying at pleaſure aſcrib'd to it. Thus much therefore we gather from himſelf concerning the moſt ancient State of Poetry in Greece; that no one was honour'd with the Name of Poet, before Him whom it has eſpecially belong'd to ever after. And if we farther appeal to the conſent of Authors, we find he has other Titles for being call'd the firſt. c Joſephus obſerves, That the Greeks have not conteſted but he was the moſt [42] ancient, whoſe Books they had in Writing. d Ariſtotle ſays, He was the ‘"firſt who brought all the Parts of a Poem into one Piece,"’ to which he adds, ‘"with true Judgment,"’ to give him a Praiſe including both the Invention and Perfe⯑ction. And Horace acquaints us, that he invented the very Meaſure which is call'd Heroick from the Subjects on which he employ'd it;
Whatever was ſerious or magnificent made a part of his Sub⯑ject: War and Peace were the comprehenſive Diviſion in which he conſider'd the World; and the Plans of his Poems were founded on the moſt active Scenes of each, the Adven⯑tures of a Siege, and the Accidents of a Voyage. For theſe his Spirit was equally active and various, lofty in Expreſſion, clear in Narration, natural in Deſcription, rapid in Action, abundant in Figures. If ever he appears leſs than himſelf, it is from the Time he writ in; and if he runs into Errors, it is from an Exceſs, rather than a Defect of Genius. Thus he roſe over the Poetical World, ſhining out like a Sun all at once, which if it ſometimes make too faint an Appearance, 'tis to be aſcrib'd only to the neceſſity of the Seaſon that keeps it at a diſtance; and if he is ſometimes too violent, we confeſs at the ſame time that we owe all things to his Heat.
Theology. As for his Theology, we ſee the Heathen Syſtem entirely follow'd. This was all he could then have to work upon, and where he fails of Truth for want of Revelation he at leaſt ſhows his Knowledge in his own Religion by the Traditions he delivers. But we are now upon a Point to be farther handled, becauſe the greateſt Controverſy concerning the Merit of Homer depends upon it. Let us conſider then that there was an Age in Greece, when natural Reaſon only diſcover'd there muſt be ſomething ſuperior to us, and Tradition had af⯑fix'd the Notion to a Number of Deities. At this time Homer roſe with the fineſt Turn imaginable for Poetry, who deſign⯑ing [43] to inſtruct Mankind in the manner for which he was moſt adapted, writ Poems wherein he made uſe of the Mi⯑niſtry of the Gods to give the higheſt Air of Surprize and Veneration to his Writings. He found the Religion of Man⯑kind wrapt up in Fables; it was thought then the eaſieſt way to convey Morals to the People, who were allur'd to Attention by Pleaſure, and aw'd with the Opinion of a hidden Myſtery. Nor was it his Buſineſs when he undertook the Province of a Poet (not of a meer Philoſopher) to be the firſt who ſhould diſcard That which furniſhes Poetry with its moſt beautiful Appearance: and eſpecially ſince the Age he liv'd in, by diſcovering its Taſte, had not only given him Autho⯑rity, but even put him under the neceſſity of preſerving it. Whatever therefore he might think of his Gods, he took them as he found them: he brought them into Action accord⯑ing to the Notions which were then entertain'd, and in ſome Stories as they were then believ'd; unleſs we imagine that he invented every thing he delivers. Yet there are ſeveral Rays of Truth ſtreaming through all this Darkneſs, in thoſe Senti⯑ments he entertains concerning the Gods; and ſeveral Alle⯑gories lightly veil'd over, from whence the learned drew new Knowledges, each according to his Power of Penetration and Fancy. But that we may the better comprehend him in all the Parts of this general View, let us extract from him a Scheme of his Religion.
He has a Jupiter, a Father of Gods and Men, whom he makes ſupream, and to whom he applies ſeveral Attri⯑butes, as Wiſdom, Juſtice, Knowledge, Power, &c. which are eſſentially inherent to the Idea of a God. fHe has given him two Veſſels, out of which he diſtributes natural Good or Evil for the Life of Man; he places the Gods in Council round him; he makes g Prayers paſs to and fro before him; and Mankind adore him with Sacrifice. But all this grand Appearance, wherein Poetry paid a deference to Reaſon, is daſh'd and mingled with the Imperfection of our Nature; not only with the applying our Paſſions to the ſu⯑preme Being (for Men have always been treated with this [44] Complyance to their Notions) but that he is not even ex⯑empted from our common Appetites and Frailties: For he is made to eat, drink, and ſleep: but this his Admirers would imagine to be only a groſſer way of repreſenting a general Notion of Happineſs, becauſe he ſays in one place,h that the Food of the Gods was not of the ſame Nature with ours. But upon the whole, while he endeavour'd to ſpeak of a Deity without a right Information, he was forc'd to take him from that Image he diſcover'd in Man; and (like one who being dazled with the Sun in the Heavens, would view him as he is reflected in a River) he has taken off the Impreſſion not only ruffled with the Emotion of our Paſſions, but obſcur'd with the earthy Mixture of our Natures.
The other Gods have all their Provinces aſſign'd 'em: ‘"Every thing has its peculiar Deity, ſays i Maximus Tyrius, by which Homer would inſinuate that the Godhead was preſent to all things."’ When they are conſider'd farther, we find he has turn'd the Virtues and Endowments of our Minds into Perſons, to make the Springs of Action become viſible; and becauſe they are given by the Gods, he re⯑preſents them as Gods themſelves deſcending from Heaven. In the ſame ſtrong Light he ſhows our Vices when they oc⯑caſion Misfortunes, like extraordinary Powers which inflict them upon us, and even our natural Puniſhments are repreſented as Puniſhers themſelves. But when we come to ſee the man⯑ner they are introduc'd in, they are found feaſting, fighting, wounded by Men, and ſhedding a ſort of Blood; in which his Machines play a little too groſly: the Fable which was admitted to procure the Pleaſure of Surprize, violently op⯑preſſes the Allegory, and it may be loſt labour to ſearch for it in every minute Circumſtance, if indeed it was intended to be there. The main Deſign was however Philoſophical, the Dreſs the Poet's, which is us'd for neceſſity and allow'd to be ornamental. And there will be ſomething ſtill to be of⯑fer'd in his Defence, if he has both preſerved the grand Moral from being obſcur'd, and adorn'd the Parts of his Works with ſuch Sentiments of the Gods as belong'd to the Age he liv'd [45] in; which that he did, appears from his having then had that Succeſs for which Allegory was contriv'd. ‘"It is the Madneſs of Man, ſays k Maximus Tyrius, to diſ-eſteem what is plain and admire what is hidden; This the Poets diſ⯑covering invented the Fable for a Remedy, when they treated of holy Matters; which being more obſcure than Converſation, and more clear than the Riddle, is a Mean between Knowledge and Ignorance; believ'd partly for being agreeable, and partly for being wonderful. Thus as Poets in Name, and Philoſophers in Effect, they drew Mankind gradually to a ſearch after Truth, when the Name of Phi⯑loſopher would have been harſh and diſpleaſing."’
When Homer proceeds to tell us our Duty to theſe ſupe⯑rior Beings, we find Prayer, Sacrifice, Luſtration, and all the Rites which were eſteem'd religious, conſtantly recommended under fear of their Diſpleaſure. We find too a Notion of the Soul's ſubſiſting after this Life, but for want of Revelation he knows not what to reckon the Happineſs of a future State, to any one who was not deify'd: Which is plain from the Speech of l Achilles to Ulyſſes in the Region of the dead; where he tells him, that ‘"he would rather ſerve the pooreſt Creature upon Earth than rule over all the departed."’ It was chiefly for this Reaſon that Plato excluded him his Com⯑mon-Wealth; he thought Homer ſpoke indecently of the Gods, and dreadfully of a future State; in which Sentence he has made no Allowance for the Times he writ in. But if he can not be defended in every thing as a Theologiſt, yet we may ſay in reſpect of his Poetry, that he has enrich'd it from Theology with true Sentiments for Profit, adorn'd it with Allegories for Pleaſure, and by uſing ſome Machines which have no farther Significancy or are ſo refin'd as to make it doubted if they have any, he has however produc'd that Character in Poetry which we call the Marvellous, and from which the Agreeable (according to Ariſtotle) is always inſeparable.
Politicks. If we take the State of Greece at his time in a Political View, we find it a m diſunited Country, made up of ſmall [46] States; and whatever was manag'd in War amounted to no more than inteſtine Skirmiſhes or Pyracies abroad, which were eaſily reveng'd on account of their Diſunion. Thus one People ſtole Europa, and another Io; the Graecians took Heſione from Troy, and the Trojans took Helena from Greece in Revenge. But this laſt having greater Friends and Alliances than any upon whom the Rapes had hitherto fallen, the Ruin of Troy was the Conſequence; and the Force of the Aſiatick Coaſts was ſo broken, that this Accident put an end to the Age of Pyracies. Then the inteſtine Broils of Greece (which had been diſcontinued during the League) were renew'd upon its Diſſolution. War and Sedition mov'd People from Place to Place during its want of Inhabitants; Exiles from one Country were receiv'd for Kings in another; and Leaders took Tracts of Ground to beſtow them upon their Followers. Commerce was neglected, living at home unſafe, and no⯑thing of Moment tranfacted by any but againſt their Neigh⯑bours: Athens only, where the People were undiſturb'd be⯑cauſe it was a barren Soil which no Body coveted, had begun to ſend Colonies abroad, being over-ſtock'd with Inhabitants.
Now a Poem coming out at ſo ſeaſonable a Time, with a Moral capable of healing theſe Diſorders by promoting Union, we may reaſonably think it was deſign'd for that End to which it is ſo peculiarly adapted. If we ima⯑gine therefore that Homer was a Politician in this Affair, we may ſuppoſe him to have look'd back into the Ages paſt, to ſee if at any time the Diſorder had been leſs; and to have pitch'd upon that Story wherein it found a temporary Cure, that by celebrating it with all poſſible Honour he might in⯑ſtil a Deſire of the ſame ſort of Union into the Hearts of his Countrymen. This indeed was a Work which could belong to none but a Poet, when Governors had Power only over ſmall Territories, and the numerous Governments were every way independent. It was then that all the Charms of Poetry were call'd forth to inſinuate the important Glory of an Alli⯑ance, and the Iliad deliver'd from the Muſes with all the Pomp of Words and artificial Influence. Union among themſelves was recommended, Peace at home, and Glory abroad: And leſt this ſhould be render'd uſeleſs by Miſma⯑nagements, [47] he lets us into farther Leſſons concerning it. How when his Kings quarrel, their Subjects ſuffer; when they act in Conjunction, Victory attends them. When they meet in Council, Plans are drawn and Proviſions made for future Action; and when in the Field, the Arts of War are deſcrib'd with the greateſt Exactneſs. Theſe were Lectures of general Concern to Mankind, proper for the Poet to de⯑liver and Kings to attend to; ſuch as made Porphyry write of the Profit that Princes might receive from Homer; and Stratocles, Hermias, and Frontinus extract military Diſcipline out of him. Thus tho' Plato has baniſh'd him from one imaginary Commonwealth, he has ſtill been ſerviceable to many real Kingdoms.
Morality. The Morality of Greece could not be perfect while there was a Weakneſs in its Government; Faults in Politicks are oc⯑caſion'd by Faults in Ethicks, and occaſion them in their turn. The Diviſion into ſo many States was the riſe of fre⯑quent Quarrels, whereby Men were bred up in a kind of rough untractable Diſpoſition. Bodily Strength met with the greateſt Honours, becauſe it was daily neceſſary to the Subſiſtence of little Governments; and that headlong Courage which throws itſelf forward to Enterprize and Plunder, was univerſally careſs'd, becauſe it carry'd all things before it. It is no wonder in an Age of ſuch Education and Cuſtoms, that, as n Thucydides ſays, ‘"Robbing was honour'd, provided it were done with Gallantry, and that the ancient Poets made People queſtion one another as they ſail'd by, if they were Thieves? as a thing for which no one ought either to be ſcorn'd or upbraided."’ Theſe were the ſort of Acti⯑ons which the Singers then recorded, and it was out of ſuch an Age that Homer was to take his Subjects. For this reaſon (not a want of Morality in him) we ſee a boaſting Temper and unmanag'd Roughneſs in the Spirit of his Heroes, which ran out in Pride, Anger, or Cruelty. It is not in him as in our modern Romances, where Men are drawn in Per⯑fection, and we but read with a tender Weakneſs what we can neither apply nor emulate. Homer writ for Men, and there⯑fore [48] he writ of them; if the World had been better, he would have ſhown it ſo; as the Matter now ſtands, we ſee his Peo⯑ple with the turn of his Age, inſatiably thirſting after Glory and Plunder; for which however he has found them a law⯑ful Cauſe, and taken care to retard their Succeſs by thoſe very Faults.
In the Proſecution of the Story every Part of it has its Leſſons of Morality: There is brotherly Love in Agamemnon and Menelaus, Friendſhip in Achilles and Patroclus, and the Love of his Country in Hector. But ſince we have ſpoken of the Iliad as more particular for its Politicks, we may con⯑ſider the Odyſſes as its Moral is more directly fram'd for Ethicks. It carries the Heroe through a world of Trials both of the dangerous and pleaſurable Nature. It ſhows him firſt under moſt ſurprizing Weights of Adverſity, among Ship⯑wrecks and Savages; all theſe he is made to paſs through in the Methods by which it becomes a Man to conquer; a Pa⯑tience in ſuffering, and a Preſence of Mind in every Accident. It ſhows him again in another View, tempted with the Baits of idle or unlawful Pleaſures, and then points out the Me⯑thods of being ſafe from them. But if in general we conſider the care our Author has taken to fix his Leſſons of Morality by the Proverbs and Precepts he delivers, we ſhall not won⯑der if Greece which afterwards gave the Appellation of Wiſe to Men who ſettled ſingle Sentences of Truth, ſhould give him the Title of the Father of Virtue for introducing ſuch a Number. To be brief, if we take the Opinion of o Horace, he has propos'd him to us as a Maſter of Morality; he lays down the common Philoſophical Diviſion of Good into plea⯑ſant, profitable, and honeſt; and then aſſerts that Homer has more fully and clearly inſtructed us in each of them, than the moſt rigid Philoſophers.
Some indeed have thought notwithſtanding all this, that Homer had only a deſign to pleaſe in his Inventions; and that others have ſince extracted Morals out of his Stories (and indeed all Stories are capable of being us'd ſo.) But this is an [49] Opinion concerning Poetry which the World has rather dege⯑nerated into, than begun with. The Traditions of Orpheus's civilizing Mankind by Hymns on the Gods, with others of the like Nature, may ſhow there was a better uſe of the Art both known and practis'd. There is alſo a remarkable Paſ⯑ſage of this kind in the third Book of the Odyſſes, that Aga⯑memnon left one of the pPoets of his Times in the Court when he ſail'd for Troy; and that his Queen was preſerv'd virtuous by his Songs, 'till Aegyſthus was forc'd to expel him in order to debauch her. Here he has hinted what a true Poetical Spirit can do when apply'd to the Promotion of Virtue; and from this one may judge he could not but deſign That him⯑ſelf, which he recommends as the Duty and Merit of his Pro⯑feſſion. Others ſince his Time may have ſeduc'd the Art to worſe Intentions; but they who are offended at the Liberties of ſome Poets, ſhould not judge all in the groſs for trifling or Corruption; eſpecially when the Evidence runs ſo ſtrongly for any One to the contrary.
We may in general go on to obſerve, that the time when Homer was born did not abound in Learning. For where⯑ever Politicks and Morality is weak, it wants its peaceable Air to thrive in, and that Opportunity which is not known in the Ages of unſettled Life. He is himſelf the Man from whom we have the firſt Accounts of Antiquity, either in its Actions or Learning; from whom we hear what Aegypt or Greece could inform him in, and whatever himſelf could diſ⯑cover by the Strength of Nature or Induſtry. But however that we may not miſtake the Elogies of thoſe Ancients who call him the Father of Arts and Sciences, and be ſurpriz'd to find ſo little of them (as they are now in Perfection) in his Works; we ſhould know that this Character is not to be un⯑derſtood at large, as if he had included the full and regular Syſtems of every thing: He is to be conſider'd profeſſedly only in Quality of a Poet; this was his Buſineſs, to which, as whatever he knew was to be ſubſervient, ſo he has not fail'd to introduce thoſe Strokes of Knowledge from the whole Circle of Arts and Sciences, which the Subject de⯑manded [50] either for Neceſſity or Ornament. This will appear on a fair View of him in each of theſe Lights.
Hiſtory. Before his Time there were no Hiſtorians in Greece: He treated Hiſtorically of paſt Tranſactions, according as he could be inform'd by Tradition, Song, or whatever Method there was of preſerving their Memory. For this we have the Conſent of Antiquity; they have generally more appeal'd to his Au⯑thority, and more inſiſted on it than on the Teſtimony of any other Writer, when they treat of the Rites, Cuſtoms, and Manners of the firſt Times. They have generally believ'd that the Acts of Tydeus at Thebes, the ſecond Siege of that City, the Settlement of Rhodes, the Battel between the Curetes and the Aetolians, the Account of the Kings of Mycenae by the Sceptre of Agamemnon, the Acts of the Greeks at Troy, and many other ſuch Accounts, are ſome of them wholly preſerv'd by him, and the reſt as faithfully related as by any Hiſtorian. Nor perhaps was all of his Invention which ſeems to be feign'd, but rather frequently the obſcure Traces and Remains of real Perſons and Actions; which as q Strabo obſerves, when Hiſtory was tranſmitted by Oral Tradition, might be mix'd with Fable before it came into the Hands of the Poet. ‘"This happen'd (ſays he) to Herodotus, the firſt profeſſed Hiſtorian, who is often as fabulous as Homer when he defers to the common Reports of Countreys; and it is not to be reckon'd to either as a fault, but as a neceſſity of the Times."’ Nay, the very Paſſages which cauſe us to tax them at this diſtance with being fabulous, might be occaſion'd by their Diligence, and a fear of erring, if they too haſtily rejected thoſe Reports which had paſs'd current in the Nations they deſcrib'd.
Geography. Before his Time there was no ſuch thing as Geography in Greece. For this we have the Suffrage of r Strabo the beſt of Geographers, who approves the Opinion of Hipparchus and other Ancients, that Homer was the very Author of it; and upon this Account begins his Treatiſe of the Science itſelf with an Encomium on him. As to the general Part of it, we find he had a Knowledge of the Earth's being ſurrounded with [51] the Ocean, becauſe he makes the Sun and Stars both to riſe and ſet in it; and that he knew the Uſe of the Stars is plain from his making s Ulyſſes ſail by the Obſervation of them. But the Inſtance oftneſt alledg'd upon this Point is the t Shield of Achilles: where he places the Earth encompaſs'd with the Sea, and gives the Stars the Names they are yet known by, as the Hyades, Pleiades, the Bear, and Orion. By the three firſt of theſe he repreſents the Conſtellations of the Northern Region; and in the laſt he gives a ſingle Repreſentative of the Southern, to which (as it were for a counter-balance) he adds a Title of Greatneſs, [...]. Then he tells us that the Bear, or Stars of the Arctick Circle, never diſappear; as an Obſervation which agrees with no other. And if to this we add (what Eratoſthenes thought he meant) that the five Plates which were faſtened on the Shield, divided it by the Lines where they met, into the five Zones, it will ap⯑pear an original deſign of Globes and Spheres. In the parti⯑cular Parts of Geography, his Knowledge is intirely inconte⯑ſtable. Strabo refers to him upon all occaſions, allowing that he knew the Extreams of the Earth, ſome of which he names and others deſcribes by Signs, as the Fortunate Iſlands. The ſame uAuthor takes notice of his Accounts concerning the ſeveral Soils, Plants, Animals, and Cuſtoms; as Aegypt's be⯑ing fertile of medicinal Herbs, Lybia's Fruitfulneſs, where the Sheep have Horns, and yean thrice a Year, &c. which are Knowledges that make Geography more various and profita⯑ble. But what all have agreed to celebrate is his Deſcrip⯑tion of Greece; which has had Laws made for its Preſerva⯑tion, and Conteſts between Governments decided by its Au⯑thority: Which w Strabo acknowledges to have no Epithet, or ornamental Expreſſion for any Place, that is not drawn from its Nature, Quality, or Circumſtances; and profeſſes after ſo long an Interval to deviate from it only where the Countrey had undergone Alterations, that caſt the Deſcription into Obſcurity.
Rhetorick. In his time, Rhetorick was not known; that Art took its Riſe out of Poetry, which was not 'till then eſtabliſh'd. ‘"The [52] Oratorial Elocution (ſays x Strabo) is but an Imitation of the Poetical: this appear'd firſt and was approv'd: They who imitated it took off the Meaſures, but ſtill preſerv'd all the other Parts of Poetry in their Writings: Such as theſe were Cadmus the Mileſian, Pherecydes, and Hecataeus. Then their Followers took ſomething more from what was left, and at laſt Elocution deſcended into the Proſe which is now among us."’ But if Rhetorick is owing to Poetry, the Obligation is ſtill more due to Homer. He (as y Quinti⯑lian tells us) gave both the Pattern and Riſe to all the Parts of it. ‘"Hic omnibus eloquentiae partibus exemplum & ortum dedit: hunc nemo in magnis rebus ſublimitate, in parvis proprietate, ſuperavit. Idem laetus & preſſus, jucundus & gravis, tùm copiâ tùm brevitate admirabilis, nec Poeticâ modò ſed oratoriâ virtute eminentiſſimus."’ From him there⯑fore they who ſettled the Art found it proper to deduce the Rules, which was eaſily done, when they had divided their Obſervations into the Kinds and the Ornaments of Elocution. For the Kinds, the ‘"Ancients (ſays z A. Gell.) ſettled them according to the three which they obſerve in his principal Speakers; his Ulyſſes who is magnificent and flowing, his Menelaus who is ſhort and cloſe, and his Neſtor who is moderate and diſpaſſion'd, and has a kind of middle Elo⯑quence participating of both the former."’ And for the Ornaments, a Ariſtotle, the great Maſter of the Rhetoricians, ſhows what deference is paid to Homer, when he orders the Orator to lay down his Heads, and expreſs both the Manners and Affections of his Work with an Imitation of that Diction, and thoſe Figures, which the divine Homer excel'd in. This is the conſtant Language of thoſe who ſucceeded him, and the Opinion ſo far prevail'd as to make b Quintilian obſerve, that they who have written concerning the Arts of Speaking, take from Homer moſt of the Inſtances of their Similitudes, Amplifications, Examples, Digreſſions, and Arguments.
Natural Phi⯑loſophy. As to Natural Philoſophy, the Age was not arriv'd in which it flouriſh'd; however ſome of its Notions may be trac'd in [53] him. As when he ſays that the Fountains and Rivers come from the Ocean, he holds a Circulation of Fluids in the Earth. But as this is a Branch of Learning which does not lie much in the way of a Poet who ſpeaks of Heroes and Wars; the de⯑ſire to prove his Knowledge this way has only run c Politian and others into trifling Inferences: as when they would have it that he underſtood Nature, becauſe he mentions Sun, Rain, Wind, and Thunder. The moſt probable way of making out his Knowledge in this kind, is by ſuppoſing he couch'd it in Allegories; and that he ſometimes us'd the Names of the Gods as his Terms for the Elements, as the Chymiſts now uſe them for Metals. But in applying this to him we muſt tread very carefully; not ſearching for Alle⯑gory too induſtriouſly where the Paſſage may inſtruct by Ex⯑ample; and endeavouring rather to find the Fable an Orna⯑ment to what is eaſily known, than to make it a Cover to curious and unknown Problems.
Phyſick. As for Medicine, ſomething of it muſt have been underſtood in that Age, though it was ſo far from Perfection that (accord⯑ing to d Celſus) what concern'd Diet was invented long after⯑wards by Hippocrates. The Accidents of Life make the Search after Remedies too indiſpenſible a Duty to be neglect⯑ed at any time. Accordingly he e tells us, that the Aegyptians who had many medicinal Plants in their Countrey, were all Phyſicians: and perhaps he might have learnt his own Skill from his Acquaintance with that Nation. The State of War which Greece had liv'd in, requir'd a Knowledge in the healing of Wounds: and this might make him breed his Princes, Achilles, Patroclus, Podalirius, and Machaon to the Science. What Homer thus attributes to others he knew himſelf, and he has given us reaſon to believe, not ſlightly. For if we conſider his Inſight into the Structure of the human Body, it is ſo nice, that he has been judg'd by ſome to have wounded his Heroes with too much Science: Or if we obſerve his Cure of Wounds, which are the Accidents proper to an Epic Poem, we find him directing the Chirurgical Operation, ſometimes [54] infuſing fLenitives, and at other times bitter Powders, when the Effuſion of Blood requir'd aſtringent Qualities.
Statuary. For Statuary, it appears by the Accounts of Aegypt and the Palladium, that there was enough of it very early in the World for thoſe Images which were requir'd in the Worſhip of their Gods; but there are none mention'd as valuable in Greece ſo early, nor was the Art eſtabliſh'd on its Rules be⯑fore Homer. He found it agreeable to the Worſhip in uſe, and neceſſary for his Machinery, that his Gods ſhould be cloath'd in Bodies: Wherefore he took care to give them ſuch as carry'd the utmoſt Perfection of the human Form; and diſtinguiſh'd them from each other even in this ſuperior Beauty, with ſuch Marks as were agreeable to each of the Deities. ‘"This, ſays g Strabo, awaken'd the Conceptions of the eminent Statuaries, while they ſtrove to keep up the Grandeur of that Idea which Homer had impreſs'd upon their Imagination; as we read of Phidias concerning the Statue of Jupiter."’ And becauſe they copy'd their Gods from him in their beſt Performances, his Deſcriptions became the Characters which were afterwards purſu'd in all Works of a good Taſte. Hence came the common Saying of the Ancients, ‘"That either Homer was the only Man who had ſeen the Forms of the Gods, or the only one who had ſhown them to Men;"’ a Paſſage which hMadam Dacier wreſts to prove the Truth of his Theology, different from Strabo's Acceptation of it.
There are, beſides what we have ſpoken of, other Sciences pretended to be found in him. Thus Macrobius diſcovers that the Chain with which i Jupiter ſays he could lift the World, is a metaphyſical Notion, that means a Connexion of all Things from the ſupream Being to the meaneſt Part of the Creation. Others, to prove him skilful in judicial Aſtrology, bring a Quotation concerning the Births of k Hector and Polydamas on the ſame Night; who were ne⯑vertheleſs of different Qualifications, one excelling in War, [55] and the other in Eloquence. Others again will have him to be vers'd in Magick, from his Stories concerning Ciree. Theſe and many of the like Nature are Interpretations ſtrain'd or trifling, ſuch as Homer does not want for a Proof of his Learning, and by which we contribute nothing to raiſe his Character, while we ſacrifice our Judgment to him in the Eyes of others.
It is ſufficient to have gone thus far, in ſhewing he was a Father of Learning, a Soul capable of ranging over the whole Creation with an intellectual View, ſhining alone in an Age of Obſcurity, and ſhining beyond thoſe who have had the Opportunity of more learned Ages; leaving behind him a Work adorn'd with the Knowledge of his own Time, and in which he has before-hand broken up the Fountains of ſeveral Sciences which were brought nearer to Perfection by Poſterity: A Work which ſhall always ſtand at the top of the ſublime Character, to be gaz'd at by Readers with an Admiration of its Perfection, and by Writers with a De⯑ſpair that it ſhould ever be emulated with Succeſs.
ERRATA in the ESSAY.
PAge 15. line 34. for brings him, read brings it. Pag. 17. in the References at the bottom, for [...], read [...], and for [...], read [...]. Pag. 36. in the Citation from Horace, for Argue, read Arguet.
TROJA cum Locis pertingentibus. 1. Porta Scoea & Fagus. 2. Caprificus. 3. Fonles Scamandri duo. 4. Callicolone prope Simoim. 5. Batiea ſeu Sepulcrum Myrinnes. 6. Jli Monimentum. 7. Tumulus. Eſiclis AA. Murus Achivorum. B. Locus Pugnoe ante naves in lib. 8. 12. 13. 14. C. Geſta Diomedis hoc loco lib. 5. D. Achillis & Scamandri Certalio lib. 22. E. Locus Pugnoe in lib. 6. F. Pugnoe in lib. 11. G. Pugnoe in lib. 20.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ILIAD.
[]The ARGUMENT.
The Contention of Achilles and Agamemnon.
[]IN the War of Troy, the Greeks having ſack'd ſome of the neighbouring Towns, and taken from thence two beautiful Captives, Chruſeis and Briſeis, allotted the firſt to Aga⯑gamemnon, and the laſt to Achilles. Chryſes, the Father of Chruſeis and Prieſt of Apollo, comes to the Grecian Camp to ranſome her; with which the Action of the Poem opens, in the Tenth Year of the Siege. The Prieſt being refus'd and inſolently diſmiſs'd by Agamemnon, intreats for Vengeance from his God, who inflicts a Peſtilence on the Greeks. Achilles calls a Coun⯑cil, and encourages Chalcas to declare the Cauſe of it, who at⯑tributes it to the Refuſal of Chruſeis. The King being obliged to ſend back his Captive, enters into a furious Conteſt with Achilles, which Neſtor pacifies; however as he had the abſo⯑lute Command of the Army, he ſeizes on Briſeis in revenge. Achilles in diſcontent withdraws himſelf and his Forces from the reſt of the Greeks; and complaining to Thetis, ſhe ſupplicates Jupiter to render them ſenſible of the Wrong done to her Son, by giving Victory to the Trojans. Jupiter granting her Suit incenſes Juno, between whom the Debate runs high, 'till they are reconciled by the Addreſs of Vulcan.
The Time of two and twenty Days is taken up in this Book; nine during the Plague, one in the Council and Quarrel of the Princes, and twelve for Jupiter's Stay with the Aethiopians, at whoſe Return Thetis prefers her Petition. The Scene lies in the Grecian Camp, then changes to Chryſa, and laſtly to the Gods on Olympus.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE Firſt Book.
[]OBSERVATIONS ON THE FIRST BOOK.
[]IT is ſomething ſtrange that of all the Commentators upon Homer, there is hardly one whoſe principal De⯑ſign is to illuſtrate the Poetical Beauties of the Author. They are voluminous in explaining thoſe Sciences which he made but ſubſervient to his Poetry, and ſparing only upon that Art which conſtitutes his Character. This has been occaſion'd by the Oſtentation of Men who had more Reading than Taſte, and were fonder of ſhew⯑ing their Variety of Learning in all Kinds, than their ſingle Underſtanding in Poetry. Hence it comes to paſs that their Remarks are rather Philoſophical, Hiſtorical, Geo⯑graphical, Allegorical, or in ſhort rather any thing than Critical and Poetical. Even the Grammarians, tho' their whole Buſineſs and Uſe be only to render the Words of an Author intelligible, are ſtrangely touch'd with the Pride of doing ſomething more than they ought. The grand Am⯑bition of one ſort of Scholars is to encreaſe the Number of Various Lections; which they have done to ſuch a degree of obſcure Diligence, that we now begin to value the firſt Edi⯑tions of Books as moſt correct, becauſe they have been leaſt corrected. The prevailing Paſſion of others is to diſcover New Meanings in an Author, whom they will cauſe to appear myſterious purely for the Vanity of being thought to unra⯑vel him. Theſe account it a diſgrace to be of the Opinion of thoſe that preceded them; and it is generally the Fate of [4] ſuch People who will never ſay what was ſaid before, to ſay what will never be ſaid after them. If they can but find a Word that has once been ſtrain'd by ſome dark Writer to ſignify any thing different from its uſual Acceptation, it is frequent with them to apply to conſtantly to that uncommon Meaning, whenever they meet it in a clear Writer: For Reading is ſo much dearer to them than Senſe, that they will diſcard it at any time to make way for a Criticiſm. In other Places where they cannot conteſt the Truth of the common Interpretation, they get themſelves room for Diſſertation by imaginary Amphibologies, which they will have to be deſign'd by the Author. This Diſpoſition of finding out different Significations in one thing, may be the Effect of either too much, or too little Wit: For Men of a right Underſtanding generally ſee at once all that an Author can reaſonably mean, but others are apt to fancy Two Meanings for want of know⯑ing One. Not to add, that there is a vaſt deal of diffe⯑rence between the Learning of a Critick, and the Puzzling of a Grammarian.
It is no eaſy Task to make ſomething out of a hundred Pedants that is not Pedantical; yet this he muſt do, who would give a tolerable Abſtract of the former Expoſitors of Homer. The Commentaries of Euſtathius are indeed an im⯑menſe Treaſury of the Greek Learning; but as he ſeems to have amaſſed the Subſtance of whatever others had written upon the Author, ſo he is not free from ſome of the fore⯑going Cenſures. There are thoſe who have ſaid, that a judicious Abſtract of Him alone might furniſh out ſufficient Illuſtrations upon Homer. It was reſolv'd to take the trouble of reading thro' that voluminous Work, and the Reader may be aſſur'd, thoſe Remarks that any way concern the Poetry or Art of the Poet, are much fewer than is imagin'd. The greater Part of theſe is already plunder'd by ſucceeding Commentators, who have very little but what they owe to him: and I am oblig'd to ſay even of Madam Dacier, that ſhe is either more beholden to him than ſhe has confeſſed, or has read him leſs than ſhe is willing to own. She has made a farther Attempt than her Predeceſſors to diſcover the Beauties of the Poet; tho' we have often only [5] her general Praiſes and Exclamations inſtead of Reaſons. But her Remarks all together are the moſt judicious Collection ex⯑tant of the ſcatter'd Obſervations of the Ancients and Mo⯑derns, as her Preface is excellent, and her Tranſlation equally careful and elegant.
The chief Deſign of the following Notes is to comment upon Homer as a Poet; whatever in them is extracted from others is conſtantly own'd; the Remarks of the Ancients are generally ſet at length, and the Places cited: all thoſe of Euſtathius are collected which fall under this Scheme: many which were not acknowledg'd by other Commentators, are reſtor'd to the true Owner; and the ſame Juſtice is ſhown to thoſe who refus'd it to others.
I.
THE Plan of this Poem is form'd upon Anger and its ill Effects, the Plan of Virgil's upon pious Reſignation and its Rewards: and thus every Paſſion or Virtue may be the Foundation of the Scheme of an Epic Poem. This Di⯑ſtinction between two Authors who have been ſo ſucceſsful, ſeem'd neceſſary to be taken notice of, that they who would imitate either may not ſtumble at the very Entrance, or curb their Imaginations ſo as to deprive us of noble Morals told in a new Variety of Accidents. Imitation does not hinder In⯑vention: We may obſerve the Rules of Nature, and write in the Spirit of thoſe who have beſt hit upon them, without taking the ſame Track, beginning in the ſame Manner, and following the Main of their Story almoſt ſtep by ſtep; as moſt of the modern Writers of Epic Poetry have done after one of theſe great Poets.
II.
VERSE 1.] Quintilian has told us, that from the begin⯑ning of Homer's two Poems the Rules of all Exordiums were deriv'd. ‘"In pauciſſimis verſibus utriuſque operis ingreſſu, legem Prooemiorum non dico ſervavit, ſed conſtituit."’ Yet Rapin has been very free with this Invocation, in his Com⯑pariſon [6] between Homer and Virgil; which is by no means the moſt judicious of his Works. He cavils firſt at the Poet's in⯑ſiſting ſo much upon the Effects of Achilles's Anger, That it was ‘"the Cauſe of the Woes of the Greeks,"’ that it ‘"ſent ſo many Heroes to the Shades,"’ that ‘"their Bodies were left a Prey to Birds and Beaſts,"’ the firſt of which he thinks had been ſufficient. One may anſwer, that the Woes of Greece might conſiſt in ſeveral other things than in the Death of her He⯑roes, which was therefore needful to be ſpecify'd: As to the Bodies, he might have reflected how great a Curſe the want of Burial was accounted by the Ancients, and how prejudicial it was eſteem'd even to the Souls of the deceas'd: We have a moſt particular Example of the Strength of this Opinion from the Conduct of Sophocles in his Ajax; who thought this very Point ſufficient to make the Diſtreſs of the laſt Act of that Tragedy after the Death of his Heroe, purely to ſa⯑tisfy the Audience that he obtain'd the Rites of Sepulture. Next he objects it as prepoſterous in Homer to deſire the Muſe to tell him the whole Story, and at the ſame time to inform her ſolemnly in his own Perſon that 'twas the Will of Jove which brought it about. But is a Poet then to be ima⯑gin'd intirely ignorant of his Subject, tho' he invokes the Muſe to relate the Particulars? May not Homer be allow'd the Knowledge of ſo plain a Truth, as that the Will of God is fulfill'd in all things? Nor does his Manner of ſaying this infer that he informs the Muſe of it, but only correſponds with the uſual way of deſiring Information from another concerning any thing, and at the ſame time mentioning that little we know of it in general. What is there more in this Paſſage? ‘"Sing, O Goddeſs, that Wrath of Achilles, which prov'd ſo pernicious to the Greeks: We only know the Ef⯑fects of it, that it ſent innumerable brave Men to the Shades, and that it was Jove's Will it ſhould be ſo. But tell me, O Muſe, what was the Source of this deſtructive Anger?"’ I can't apprehend what Rapin means by ſaying, it is hard to know where this Invocation ends, and that it is confounded with the Narration, which ſo manifeſtly begins at [...]. But upon the whole, methinks the French Criticks play double with us, when they ſometimes [7] repreſent the Rules of Poetry to be form'd upon the Practice of Homer, and at other times arraign their Maſter as if he tranſgreſs'd them. Horace has ſaid the Exordium of an Epic Poem ought to be plain and modeſt, and inſtances Homer's as ſuch; and Rapin from this very Rule will be trying Homer and judging it otherwiſe (for he criticiſes alſo upon the beginning of the Odyſſes) But for a full Anſwer we may bring the Words of Quintilian (whom Rapin himſelf allows to be the beſt of Criticks) concerning theſe Propoſitions and Invoca⯑tions of our Author. ‘"Benevolum Auditorem invocatione dearum quas praeſidere vatibus creditum eſt, intentum pro⯑poſitâ rerum magnitudine, & docilem ſummā celeriter com⯑prehenſâ, facit."’
III.
Plutarch obſerves there is a Defect in the Meaſure of this firſt Line (I ſuppoſe he means in the Eta's of the Patronymick.) This he thinks the fiery Vein of Homer making haſte to his Subject, paſt over with a bold Neglect, being conſcious of his own Power and Perfection in the greater Parts; as ſome (ſays he) who make Virtue their ſole Aim, paſs by Cenſure in ſmaller Matters. But perhaps we may find no occaſion to ſuppoſe this a Neglect in him, if we conſider that the word Pelides, had he made uſe of it without ſo many Alterations as he has put it to in [...], would ſtill have been true to the Rules of Meaſure. Make but a Diphthong of the ſecond Eta and the Iota, inſtead of their being two Syllables (per⯑haps by the fault of Tranſcribers) and the Objection is gone. Or perhaps it might be deſign'd that the Verſe in which he profeſſes to ſing of violent Anger ſhould run off in the Ra⯑pidity of Dactyles. This Art he is allow'd to have us'd in other Places, and Virgil has been particularly celebrated for it.
IV.
‘VERSE 8. Will of Jove.]’ Plutarch in his Treatiſe of read⯑ing Poets, interprets [...] in this Place to ſignify Fate, not [8] imagining it conſiſtent with the Goodneſs of the ſupreme Be⯑ing, or Jupiter, to contrive or practiſe any Evil againſt Men. Euſtathius makes [Will] here to refer to the Promiſe which Jupiter gave to Thetis, that he would honour her Son by ſiding with Troy while he ſhould be abſent. But to reconcile theſe two Opinions, perhaps the Meaning may be that when Fate had decreed the Deſtruction of Troy, Jupiter having the Power of Incidents to bring it to paſs, fulfill'd that Decree by providing Means for it. So that the Words may thus ſpecify the Time of Action, from the beginning of the Poem, in which thoſe Incidents work'd, 'till the Promiſe to Thetis was fulfil'd, and the Deſtruction of Troy aſcertain'd to the Greeks by the Death of Hector. However it is certain that this Poet was not an abſolute Fataliſt, but ſtill ſuppos'd the Power of Jove ſuperior: For in the ſixteenth Iliad we ſee him deſigning to ſave Sarpedon tho' the Fates had decreed his Death, if Juno had not interpoſed. Neither does he exclude Free-will in Men; for as he attributes the Deſtruction of the Heroes to the Will of Jove in the begin⯑ning of the Iliad, ſo he attributes the Deſtruction of Ulyſſes's Friends to their own Folly in the beginning of the Odyſſes,
V.
‘VERSE 9. Declare, O Muſe.]’ It may be queſtion'd whether the firſt Period ends at [...], and the Interroga⯑tion to the Muſe begins with [...]—Or whether the Period does not end 'till the words, [...], with only a ſingle Interrogation at [...]—? I ſhould be inclin'd to favour the former, and think it a double Inter⯑rogative, as Milton ſeems to have done in his Imitation of this Place at the beginning of Paradiſe Loſt.
And juſt after,
Beſides that I think the Propoſition concludes more nobly [9] with the Sentence Such was the Will of Jove. But the latter being follow'd by moſt Editions, and by all the Tranſ⯑lations I have ſeen in any Language, the general Acceptation is here comply'd with, only tranſpoſing the Line to keep the Sentence laſt: And the next Verſes are ſo turn'd as to include the double Interrogation, and at the ſame time do juſtice to another Interpretation of the Words [...], Ex quo tempore; which marks the Date of the Quarrel from whence the Poem takes its Riſe. Chapman would have Ex quo underſtood of Jupiter, from whom the Debate was ſug⯑geſted; but this claſhes with the Line immediately follow⯑ing, where he asks What God inſpir'd the Contention? and anſwers, It was Apollo.
VI.
‘VERSE 11. Latona's Son.]’ Here the Author who firſt in⯑vok'd the Muſe as the Goddeſs of Memory, vaniſhes from the Reader's view, and leaves her to relate the whole Affair through the Poem, whoſe Preſence from this time dif⯑fuſes an Air of Majeſty over the Relation. And leſt this ſhould be loſt to our Thoughts by the Continuation of the Story, he ſometimes refreſhes them with a new Invocation at proper Intervals. Euſtathius.
VII.
‘VERSE 20. The Sceptre and the Laurel Crown.]’ There is ſomething exceedingly venerable in this Appearance of the Prieſt to command Attention. He comes with the Enſigns of the God he belong'd to; the Laurel Crown, now carry'd in his Hand to ſhow he was a Suppliant; and a golden Scep⯑tre which the Ancients gave in particular to Apollo, as they did a ſilver one to the Moon, and other ſorts to other Planets. Euſtathius.
VIII.
‘VERSE 23. Ye Kings and Warriors.]’ The Art of this Speech is remarkable. Chryſes conſiders the Conſtitution of [10] the Greeks before Troy, as made up of Troops partly from Kingdoms and partly from Democracies: Wherefore he be⯑gins with a diſtinction which comprehends all. After this, as Apollo's Prieſt, he prays that they may obtain the two Bleſ⯑ſings they had moſt in view, the Conqueſt of Troy, and a ſafe Return. Then as he names his Petition, he offers an extraordinary Ranſom, and concludes with bidding them fear the God if they refuſe it; like one who from his Office ſeems to foreſee their Miſery and exhorts them to ſhun it. Thus he endeavours to work by the Art of a general Application, by Religion, by Intereſt, and the Inſinuation of Danger. This is the Subſtance of what Euſtathius remarks on this Place; and in purſuance to his laſt Obſervation, the Epithet Avenging is added to this Verſion, that it may appear the Prieſt foretells the Anger of his God.
IX.
‘VERSE 33. He with Pride repuls'd.]’ It has been remark'd in Honour of Homer's Judgment, and the Care he took of his Reader's Morals, that where he ſpeaks of evil Actions committed, or hard Words given, he generally characte⯑riſes them as ſuch by a previous Expreſſion. This Paſſage is given as one Inſtance of it, where he ſays the Repulſe of Chryſes was a proud injurious Action in Agamemnon: And it may be remark'd that before his Heroes fall on one another with hard Language, in this Book, he ſtill takes care to let us know they were under a Diſtraction of Anger. Plutarch of reading Poets.
X.
The Greek is [...], which ſignifies either making the Bed, or partaking it. Euſtathius and Madam Dacier inſiſt very much upon its being taken in the former Senſe only, for fear [11] of preſenting a looſe Idea to the Reader, and of offending againſt the Modeſty of the Muſe who is ſuppos'd to relate the Poem. This Obſervation may very well become a Biſhop and a Lady: But that Agamemnon was not ſtudying here for Civility of Expreſſion, appears from the whole Tenour of his Speech; and that he deſign'd Chryſeis for more than a Ser⯑vant-Maid may be ſeen from ſome other things he ſays of her, as that he preferr'd her to his Queen Clytemneſtra, &c. The Impudence of which Confeſſion Madam Dacier herſelf has elſewhere animadverted upon. Mr. Dryden in his Tranſ⯑lation of this Book, has been juſter to the Royal Paſſion of Agamemnon; tho' he has carry'd the Point ſo much on the other ſide, as to make him promiſe a greater Fondneſs for her in her old Age than in her Youth, which indeed is hardly credible.
Nothing could have made Mr. Dryden capable of this Miſtake but extreme haſte in Writing; which never ought to be im⯑puted as a Fault to him, but to thoſe who ſuffer'd ſo noble a Genius to lie under the neceſſity of it.
XI.
‘VERSE 47. The trembling Prieſt.]’ We may take notice here, once for all, that Homer is frequently Eloquent in his very Silence. Chryſes ſays not a word in anſwer to the In⯑ſults of Agamemnon, but walks penſive along the Shore, and the melancholy Flowing of the Verſe admirably expreſſes the Condition of the mournful and deſerted Father.
XII.
[12]‘VERSE 61. The fav'ring God attends.]’ Upon this firſt Prayer in the Poem Euſtathius takes occaſion to obſerve, that the Poet is careful throughout his whole Work to let no Prayer ever fall entirely which has Juſtice on its ſide; but he who prays either kills his Enemy, or has Signs given him that he has been heard, or his Friends return, or his Undertaking ſucceeds, or ſome other viſible Good happens. So far in⯑ſtructive and uſeful to Life has Homer made his Fable.
XIII.
‘VERSE 67. He bent his deadly Bow.]’ In the tenth Year of the Siege of Troy a Plague happen'd in the Grecian Camp, occaſion'd perhaps by immoderate Heats and groſs Exhala⯑tions. At the Introduction of this Accident Homer be⯑gins his Poem, and takes occaſion from it to open the Scene of Action with a moſt beautiful Allegory. He ſuppoſes that ſuch Afflictions are ſent from Heaven for the Puniſhment of our evil Actions, and becauſe the Sun whom the Heathens worſhip'd was a principal Inſtrument of it, he ſays it was ſent to puniſh Agamemnon for deſpiſing that God and injuring his Prieſt. Euſtathius.
XIV.
‘VERSE 69. Mules and Dogs.]’ Hippocrates obſerves two things of Plagues; that their Cauſe is in the Air, and that different Animals are differently touch'd by them according to their Nature or Nouriſhment. This Philoſophy Spon⯑danus refers to the Plague here mention'd. Firſt, the Cauſe is in the Air, by reaſon of the Darts or Beams of Apollo. Secondly, the Mules and Dogs are ſaid to die ſooner than the Men; partly becauſe they have by Nature a Quickneſs of Smell which makes the Infection ſooner perceivable; and partly by the Nouriſhment they take, their feeding on the Earth with prone Heads making the Exhalation the more eaſy to be ſuck'd in with it. Thus has Hippocrates ſo [13] long after Homer writ, ſubſcrib'd to his Knowledge in the Riſe and Progreſs of this Diſtemper. There have been ſome who have refer'd this Paſſage to a religious Senſe, making the Death of the Mules and Dogs before the Men to point out a kind Method of Providence in puniſhing, whereby it ſends ſome previous Afflictions to warn Mankind ſo as to make them ſhun the greater Evils by Repentance. This Monſieur Dacier in his Notes on Ariſtotles's Art of Poetry calls a Remark perfectly fine, and agreeable to God's Method of ſending Plagues on the Aegyptians, where firſt Horſes, Aſſes, &c. were ſmitten, and afterwards the Men themſelves.
XV.
‘VERSE 74. Thetis' God-like Son convenes a Council.]’ On the tenth Day a Council is held to enquire why the Gods were angry? We may obſerve with Plutarch, how juſtly he applies the Characters of his Perſons to the Incidents; not making Agamemnon but Achilles call this Council, who of all the Kings was moſt capable of making Obſervations upon the Plague, and of foreſeeing its Duration, as having been bred by Chiron to the Study of Phyſick. One may mention alſo a Remark of Euſtathius in purſuance to this, that Juno's ad⯑viſing him in this caſe might allude to his Knowledge of an evil Temperament in the Air, of which ſhe was Goddeſs.
XVI.
‘VERSE 79. Why leave we not the fatal Trojan Shore, &c.]’ The Artifice of this Speech (according to Dionyſius of Hali⯑carnaſſus in his ſecond Diſcourſe, [...]) is ad⯑mirably carry'd on to open an Accuſation againſt Agamemnon, whom Achilles ſuſpects to be the Cauſe of all their Miſeries. He directs himſelf not to the Aſſembly, but to Agamemnon; he names not only the Plague but the War too, as having exhauſted them all, which was evidently due to his Family. He leads the Augurs he would conſult, by pointing at ſome⯑thing lately done with reſpect to Apollo. And while he con⯑tinues within the guard of civil Expreſſion, ſcattering his [14] Inſinuations, he encourages thoſe who may have more Know⯑ledge to ſpeak out boldly, by letting them ſee there is a Party made for their Safety; which has its Effect immediately in the following Speech of Chalcas, whoſe demand of Protection ſhows upon whom the Offence is to be plac'd.
XVII.
‘VERSE 85. By myſtic Dreams.]’ It does not ſeem that by the word [...] an Interpreter of Dreams is meant, for we have no hint of any preceding Dream which wants to be interpreted. We may therefore more pro⯑bably refer it to ſuch who us'd (after performing proper Rites) to lie down at ſome ſacred Place, and expect a Dream from the Gods upon any particular Subject which they deſir'd. That this was a Practice amongſt them, ap⯑pears from the Temples of Amphiaraus in Boeotia, and Po⯑dalirius in Apulia, where the Enquirer was oblig'd to ſleep at the Altar upon the Skin of the Beaſt he had ſacrific'd in order to obtain an Anſwer. It is in this manner that La⯑tinus in Virgil's ſeventh Book goes to dream in the Tem⯑ple of Faunus, where we have a particular Deſcription of the whole Cuſtom. Strabo, Lib. 16. has ſpoken con⯑cerning the Temple of Jeruſalem as a Place of this Nature; ‘"where (ſays he) the People either dream'd for themſelves, or procur'd ſome good Dreamer to do it:"’ By which it ſhould ſeem he had read ſomething concerning the Viſions of their Prophets, as that which Samuel had when he was order'd to ſleep a third time before the Ark, and upon doing ſo had an Account of the Deſtruction of Eli's Houſe: or that which happen'd to Solomon after having ſacrific'd be⯑fore the Ark at Gibeon. The ſame Author alſo has men⯑tion'd the Temple of Serapis in his ſeventeenth Book as a Place for receiving Oracles by Dreams.
XVIII.
‘VERSE 97. Belov'd of Jove, Achilles!]’ Theſe Appellations of Praiſe and Honour with which the Heroes in Homer ſo [15] frequently ſalute each other, were agreeable to the Style of the ancient Times, as appears from ſeveral of the like Na⯑ture in the Scripture. Milton has not been wanting to give his Poem this Caſt of Antiquity, throughout which our firſt Parents almoſt always accoſt each other with ſome Title that expreſſes a Reſpect to the Dignity of human Nature.
XIX.
‘VERSE 115. Not even the Chief.]’ After Achilles had brought in Chalcas by his dark Doubts concerning Agamem⯑non, Chalcas who perceiv'd them, and was unwilling to be the firſt that nam'd the King, artfully demands a Protection in ſuch a manner, as confirms thoſe Doubts, and extorts from him that warm and particular Expreſſion ‘"that he would protect him even againſt Agamemnon,"’ who, as he ſays, is now the greateſt Man of Greece, to hint that at the Expi⯑ration of the War he ſhould be again reduc'd to be barely King of Mycenae. This Place Plutarch takes notice of as the firſt in which Achilles ſhews his Contempt of Sovereign Au⯑thority.
XX.
‘VERSE 117. The Blameleſs Prieſt.]’ The Epithet [...] or blameleſs, is frequent in Homer, but not always us'd with ſo much Propriety as here. The Reader may obſerve that Care has not been wanting thro' this Tranſlation to preſerve thoſe Epithets which are peculiar to the Author, whenever they receive any Beauty from the Circumſtances about them: as this of blameleſs manifeſtly does in the preſent Paſſage. It is not only apply'd to a Prieſt, but to one who being con⯑ſcious of the Truth, prepares with an honeſt Boldneſs to diſ⯑cover it.
XXI.
[16]‘VERSE 131. Augur accurſt.]’ This Expreſſion is not meerly thrown out by chance, but proves what Chalcas ſaid of the King when he ask'd Protection; that he harbour'd Anger in his Heart. For it aims at the Prediction Chalcas had given at Aulis nine Years before, for the ſacrificing his Daughter Iphigenia. Spondanus.
This, and the two following Lines are in a manner Repe⯑titions of the ſame thing thrice over. It is left to the Rea⯑der to conſider how far it may be allow'd, or rather praiſed for a Beauty, when we conſider with Euſtathius that it is a moſt natural Effect of Anger to be full of Words and in⯑ſiſting on that which galls us. We may add, that theſe re⯑iterated Expreſſions might be ſuppos'd to be thrown out one after another, according as Agamemnon is ſtruck in the Confuſion of his Paſſion, firſt by the Remembrance of one Prophecy, and then of another, which the ſame Man had utter'd againſt him.
XXII.
‘VERSE 143. Not half ſo dear were Clytemneſtra's Charms.]’ Agamemnon having heard the Charge which Chalcas drew up againſt him in two Particulars, that he had affronted the Prieſt, and refus'd to reſtore his Daughter; he offers one An⯑ſwer which gives ſoftening Colours to both, that he lov'd her as well as his Queen Clytemneſtra for her Perfecti⯑ons. Thus he would ſeem to ſatisfy the Father by Kind⯑neſs to his Daughter, to excuſe himſelf before the Greeks for what is paſt, and to make a Merit of yielding her in the fol⯑lowing Lines, and ſacrificing his Paſſion for their Safety.
XXIII.
‘VERSE 155. Inſatiate King.]’ Here, where this Paſſion of Anger grows loud, it ſeems proper to prepare the Reader, and prevent his Miſtake in the Character of Achilles, which [17] might ſhock him in ſeveral Particulars following. We ſhould know that the Poet has rather ſtudy'd Nature than Per⯑fection in the laying down his Characters. He reſolv'd to ſing the Conſequences of Anger; he conſider'd what Vir⯑tues and Vices would conduce moſt to bring his Moral out of the Fable; and artfully diſpos'd them in his chief Perſons after the manner in which we generally find them; making the Fault which moſt peculiarly attends any good Quality, to reſide with it. Thus he has plac'd Pride with Magnanimity in Agamemnon, and Craft with Prudence in Ulyſſes. And thus we muſt take his Achilles, not as a meer heroick diſpaſ⯑ſion'd Character, but as one compounded of Courage and Anger; one who finds himſelf almoſt invincible, and aſ⯑ſumes an uncontroul'd Carriage upon the Self-conſciouſneſs of his Worth; whoſe high Strain of Honour will not ſuffer him to betray his Friends or fight againſt them, even when he thinks they have affronted him; but whoſe inexorable Re⯑ſentment will not let him hearken to any Terms of Accom⯑modation. Theſe are the Lights and Shades of his Cha⯑racter, which Homer has heighten'd and darkned in Extreams; becauſe on the one ſide Valour is the darling Quality of Epic Poetry, and on the other, Anger the particular Subject of his Poem. When Characters thus mix'd are well conducted, tho' they be not morally beautiful quite through, they con⯑duce more to the end, and are ſtill poetically perfect.
Plutarch takes occaſion from the Obſervation of this Con⯑duct in Homer, to applaud his juſt Imitation of Nature and Truth, in repreſenting Virtues and Vices intermixed in his Heroes: contrary to the Paradoxes and ſtrange Poſitions of the Stoicks, who held that no Vice could conſiſt with Virtue, nor the leaſt Virtue with Vice. Plut. de aud. Poetis.
XXIV.
‘VERSE 169. Great as thou art, and like a God in Fight.]’ The Words in the Original are [...]. Ulyſſes is ſoon after call'd [...], and others in other Places. The Phraſe of Divine or God-like is not uſed by the Poet to ſignify Per⯑fection in Men, but apply'd to conſiderable Perſons upon ac⯑count [18] of ſome particular Qualification or Advantage which they were poſſeſs'd of far above the common Standard of Mankind. Thus it is aſcrib'd to Achilles upon account of his great Valour, to Ulyſſes for his Preheminence in Wiſdom, even to Paris for his exceeding Beauty, and to Clytemneſtra for ſeveral fair Endowments.
XXV.
‘VERSE 172. Firſt let the juſt Equivalent.]’ The Reaſoning in point of Right between Achilles and Agamemnon ſeems to be this. Achilles pleads that Agamemnon could not ſeize upon any other Man's Captive without a new Diſtribution, it being an Invaſion of private Property. On the other hand, as Agamemnon's Power was limited, how came it that all the Grecian Captains would ſubmit to an illegal and arbitrary Action? I think the legal Pretence for his ſeizing Briſeis muſt have been founded upon that Law, whereby the Com⯑mander in Chief had the Power of taking what part of the Prey he pleas'd for his own Uſe: And he being obliged to reſtore what he had taken, it ſeem'd but juſt that he ſhould have a ſecond Choice.
XXVI.
The Anger of theſe two Princes was equally upon the account of Women, but yet it is obſervable that there is a different Air with which they are conducted. Agamemnon appears as a Lover, Achilles as a Warriour: The one ſpeaks of Chryſeis as a Beauty whom he valu'd equal to his Wife, and whoſe Merit was too conſiderable to be eaſily reſign'd; the other treats Briſeis as a Slave, whom he is concern'd to preſerve in point of Honour, and as a Teſtimony of his Glory. Hence it is that we never hear him mention her but as his Spoil, the Reward of War, the Gift the Graecians gave him, or the like Expreſſions: and accordingly he yields her up, not in Grief for a Miſtreſs whom he loſes, but in [19] Sullenneſs for an Injury that is done him. This Obſervation is Madam Dacier's, and will often appear juſt as we proceed farther. Nothing is finer than the Moral exhibited to us in this Quarrel, of the Blindneſs and Partiality of Mankind to their own Faults: The Graecians make a War to reco⯑ver a Woman that was raviſh'd, and are in danger to fail in the Attempt by a Diſpute about another. Agamemnon while he is revenging a Rape, commits one; and Achilles while he is in the utmoſt Fury himſelf, reproaches Agamemnon for his paſſionate Temper.
XXVII.
‘VERSE 225. Fly, mighty Warriour.]’ Achilles having threaten'd to leave them in the former Speech, and ſpoken of his Acts of War; the Poet here puts an artful Piece of Spite in the Mouth of Agamemnon, making him opprobriouſly brand his Retreat as a Flight, and leſſen the Appearance of his Courage by calling it the Love of Contention and Slaughter.
XXVIII.
‘VERSE 229. Kings, the Gods diſtinguiſh'd Care.]’ In the Original it is [...], or nurſt by Jove. Homer often uſes to call his Kings by ſuch Epithets as [...], born of the Gods, or [...], bred by the Gods; by which he points out to themſelves, the Offices they were ordain'd for; and to their People, the Reverence that ſhould be pay'd them. Theſe Expreſſions of his are perfectly in the exalted Style of the Eaſtern Nations, and correſpondent to thoſe Places of holy Scripture where they are call'd Gods, and the Sons of the moſt High.
XXIX.
‘VERSE 261. Minerva ſwift deſcended from above.]’ Homer having by degrees rais'd Achilles to ſuch a Pitch of Fury as to make him capable of attempting Agamemnon's Life in the Council, Pallas the Goddeſs of Wiſdom deſcends, and being ſeen only by him, pulls him back in the very Inſtant of Execution. He parlies with her a while as imagining ſhe [20] would adviſe him to proceed, but upon the promiſe of a time wherein there ſhould be a full Reparation of his Ho⯑nour, he ſheaths his Sword in Obedience to her. She aſcends to Heaven, and he being left to himſelf, falls again upon his General with bitter Expreſſions. The Allegory here may be allow'd by every Reader to be unforc'd: The Prudence of Achilles checks him in the raſheſt Moment of his Anger, it works upon him unſeen to others, but does not entirely pre⯑vail upon him to deſiſt, 'till he remembers his own Impor⯑tance, and depends upon it that there will be a neceſſity of their courting him at any Expence into the Alliance again. Having perſuaded himſelf by ſuch Reflections, he forbears to attack his General, but thinking that he ſacrifices enough to Prudence by this Forbearance, lets the thought of it vaniſh from him, and no ſooner is Wiſdom gone but he falls into more violent Reproaches for the Gratification of his Paſſion. All this is a moſt beautiful Paſſage whoſe Moral is evident, and generally agreed upon by the Commentators.
XXX.
‘VERSE 268. Known by the Flames that ſparkled from her Eyes.]’ They who carry on this Allegory after the moſt minute man⯑ner, refer this to the Eyes of Achilles, as indeed we muſt, if we entirely deſtroy the bodily Appearance of Minerva. But what Poet deſigning to have his Moral ſo open, would take pains to form it into a Fable? In the proper mythological Senſe, this Paſſage ſhould be referr'd to Minerva: according to an Opinion of the Ancients, who ſuppos'd that the Gods had a peculiar Light in their Eyes. That Homer was not ignorant of this Opinion appears from his uſe of it in other Places, as when in the third Iliad Helena by this means diſcovers Venus: and that he meant it here is particularly aſſerted by Heliodorus in the third Book of his Aethiopick Hiſtory. ‘"The Gods, ſays he, are known in their Apparitions to Men by the fix'd Glare of their Eyes, or their gliding Paſſage through Air without moving the Feet; theſe Marks Homer has us'd from his Knowledge of the Aegyptian Learning, applying one to Pallas, and [21] the other to Neptune."’ Madam Dacier has gone into the contrary Opinion, and blames Euſtathius and others without overthrowing theſe Authorities, or aſſigning any other Reaſon but that it was not proper for Minerva's Eyes to ſparkle, when her Speech was mild.
XXXI.
‘VERSE 298. Thou Dog in Forehead.]’ It has been one of the Objections againſt the Manners of Homer's Heroes, that they are abuſive. Monſ. de la Motte affirms in his Diſcourſe upon the Iliad, that great Men differ from the vulgar in their manner of expreſſing their Paſſion; but certainly in violent Paſſions (ſuch as thoſe of Achilles and Agamemnon) the Great are as ſubject as any others to theſe Sallies; of which we have frequent Examples both from Hiſtory and Experience. Plutarch, taking notice of this Line, gives it as a particular Commendation of Homer, that ‘"he conſtantly affords us a fine Lecture of Morality in his Reprehenſions and Praiſes, by referring them not to the Goods of Fortune or the Body, but thoſe of the Mind, which are in our Power, and for which we are blameable or praiſe-worthy. Thus, ſays he, Agamemnon is reproach'd for Impudence and Fear, Ajax for vain-bragging, Idomeneus for the Love of Con⯑tention, and Ulyſſes does not reprove even Therſites but as a Babbler, tho' he had ſo many perſonal Deformities to object to him. In like manner alſo the Appellations and Epithets with which they accoſt one another, are gene⯑rally founded on ſome diſtinguiſhing Qualification of Merit, as Wiſe Ulyſſes, Hector equal to Jove in Wiſ⯑dom, Achilles chief Glory of the Greeks,"’ and the like Plutarch of reading Poets.
XXXII.
‘VERSE 299. In ambuſh'd Fights to dare.]’ Homer has mag⯑nify'd the Ambuſh as the boldeſt manner of Fight. They went upon thoſe Parties with a few Men only, and generally the moſt daring of the Army, on Occaſions of the greateſt [22] Hazard, where they were therefore more expos'd than in a regular Battel. Thus Idomeneus in the thirteenth Book ex⯑preſsly tells Meriones that the greateſt Courage appears in this way of Service, each Man being in a manner ſingled out to the Proof of it. Euſtathius.
XXXIII.
‘VERSE 309. Now by this ſacred Sceptre.]’ Spondanus in this Place blames Euſtathius, for ſaying that Homer makes Achilles in his Paſſion ſwear by the firſt thing he meets with; and then aſſigns (as from himſelf) two Cauſes which the other had mention'd ſo plainly before, that it is a wonder they could be over-look'd. The Subſtance of the whole Paſſage in Euſtathius is, that if we conſider the Sceptre ſimply as Wood, Achilles after the manner of the Ancients takes in his Tranſport the firſt thing to ſwear by; but that Homer himſelf has in the Proceſs of the Deſcription aſſign'd Reaſons why it is proper for the Occaſion, which may be ſeen by conſidering it Symbolically. Firſt, That as the Wood being cut from the Tree will never re-unite and flouriſh, ſo neither ſhould their Amity ever flouriſh again, after they were divided by this Contention. Secondly, That a Sceptre being the mark of Power and Symbol of Juſtice, to ſwear by it might in effect be conſtrued ſwearing by the God of Power, and by Juſtice itſelf; and accordingly it is ſpoken of by Ariſtotle, 3 l. Polit. as a uſual ſolemn Oath of Kings.
I cannot leave this Paſſage without ſhowing in Oppoſition to ſome Moderns who have criticiz'd upon it as tedious, that it has been eſteem'd a Beauty of ſo fine a Nature by the An⯑cients as to engage them in its Imitation. Virgil has almoſt tranſcrib'd it in his 12 Aen. for the Sceptre of Latinus.
[23] But I cannot think this comes up to the Spirit or Propriety of Homer, notwithſtanding the Judgment of Scaliger who de⯑cides for Virgil upon a trivial compariſon of the Wording in each, l. 5. cap. 3. Poet. It fails in a greater Point than any he has mention'd, which is that being there us'd on occa⯑ſion of a Peace, it has no emblematical reference to Diviſion, and yet deſcribes the cutting of the Wood and its Incapacity to bloom and branch again, in as many Words as Homer. It is borrow'd by Valerius Flaccus in his third Book, where he makes Jaſon ſwear as a Warriour by his Spear,
And indeed, however he may here borrow ſome Expreſſions from Virgil or fall below him in others, he has nevertheleſs kept to Homer in the Emblem, by introducing the Oath upon Jaſon's Grief for ſailing to Colchis without Hercules, when he had ſeparated himſelf from the Body of the Argonauts to ſearch after Hylas. To render the Beauty of this Paſſage more manifeſt, the Alluſion is inſerted (but with the feweſt Words poſſible) in this Tranſlation.
XXXIV.
‘VERSE 324. Thy Raſhneſs made the braveſt Greek thy Foe.]’ Tho' ſelf-praiſe had not been agreeable to the haughty Na⯑ture of Achilles, yet Plutarch has mention'd a Caſe, and with reſpect to him, wherein it is allowable. He ſays that Achilles has at other times aſcrib'd his Succeſs to Jupiter, but it is permitted to a Man of Merit and Figure who is injuriouſly dealt with, to ſpeak frankly of himſelf to thoſe who are for⯑getful and unthankful.
XXXV.
[24]‘VERSE 333. Two Generations.]’ The Commentators make not Neſtor to have liv'd three hundred Years (according to Ovid's Opinion;) they take the word [...] not to ſignify a Century or Age of the World; but a Generation, or compaſs of Time in which one Set of Men flouriſh, which in the com⯑mon Computation is thirty Years; and accordingly it is here tranſlated as much the more probable.
From what Neſtor ſays in this Speech, Madam Dacier com⯑putes the Age he was of, at the end of the Trojan War. The Fight of the Lapithae and Centaurs fell out fifty five or ſixty Years before the War of Troy: The Quarrel of Agamemnon and Achilles happen'd in the tenth and laſt Year of that War. It was then fifty five or ſixty five Years ſince Neſtor fought againſt the Centaurs; he was capable at that time of giving Counſel, ſo that one cannot imagine him to have been under twenty: From whence it will appear that he was now almoſt arriv'd to the Concluſion of his third Age, and about four⯑ſcore and five, or fourſcore and ſix Years of Age.
XXXVI.
‘VERSE 339. What Shame.]’ The Quarrel having riſen to its higheſt Extravagance, Neſtor the wiſeſt and moſt aged Greek is raiſed to quiet the Princes, whoſe Speech is therefore fram'd entirely with an oppoſite Air to all which has been hitherto ſaid, ſedate and inoffenſive. He begins with a ſoft affectionate Complaint which he oppoſes to their Threats and haughty Language; he reconciles their Attention in an awful manner, by putting them in mind that they hear one whom their Fathers and the greateſt Heroes have heard with deference. He ſides with neither, that he might not anger any one, while he adviſes them to the proper Methods of Reconciliation; and he appears to ſide with both while he praiſes each, that they may be induc'd by the Recollection of one another's Worth to return to that Amity which would bring Succeſs to the Cauſe. It was not however conſiſtent [25] with the Plan of the Poem that this ſhould entirely appeaſe them, for then the Anger would be at an end which was pro⯑pos'd to be ſung through the whole. Homer has not therefore made this Speech to have its full Succeſs; and yet that the Eloquence of his Neſtor might not be thrown out of Character by its proving unavailable, he takes care that the Violence with which the Diſpute was manag'd ſhould abate immediately upon his ſpeaking; Agamemnon confeſſes that all he ſpoke was right, Achilles promiſes not to fight for Briſeis if ſhe ſhould be ſent for, and the Council diſſolves.
It is to be obſerv'd that this Character of Authority and Wiſdom in Neſtor, is every where admirably uſed by Homer, and made to exert itſelf thro' all the great Emergencies of the Poem. As he quiets the Princes here, he propoſes that Expedient which reduces the Army into their Order after the Sedition in the ſecond Book. When the Greeks are in the utmoſt Diſtreſſes, 'tis he who adviſes the building the Fortifi⯑cation before the Fleet, which is the chief means of preſer⯑ving them. And it is by his Perſuaſion that Patroclus puts on the Armour of Achilles, which occaſions the Return of that Heroe, and the Conqueſt of Troy.
XXXVII.
When Achilles promiſes not to conteſt for Briſeis, he expreſſes it in a ſharp deſpiſing Air, I will not fight for the ſake of a Woman: by which he glances at Helena, and caſts an oblique Reflection upon thoſe Commanders whom he is about to leave at the Siege for her Cauſe. One may obſerve how well it is fancy'd of the Poet, to make one Woman the ground of a Quarrel which breaks an Alliance that was only form'd upon account of another: and how much the Circumſtance thus conſider'd contributes to keep up the Anger of Achilles, for carrying on the Poem beyond this Diſſolution of the Council. For (as he himſelf argues with Ulyſſes in the 9th Iliad) it is as reaſonable for him to retain his Anger upon the account of Briſeis, as for the Brothers with all Greece to carry on a [26] War upon the ſcore of Helena. I do not know that any Commentator has taken notice of this Sarcaſm of Achilles, which I think a very obvious one.
XXXVIII.
‘VERSE 413. The Ablutions.]’ All our former Engliſh Tranſ⯑lations ſeem to have err'd in the Senſe of this Line; the word [...] being differently render'd by them, Offals, or Entrails, or Purgaments, or Ordures, a groſs Set of Ideas of which Homer is not guilty. The word comes from [...], eluo, the ſame Verb from whence [...], which precedes in the Line, is deriv'd. So that the Senſe ap⯑pears to be as it is render'd here [They waſh'd, and threw away their Waſhings.] Perhaps this Luſtration might be uſed as a Phyſical Remedy in cleanſing them from the Infection of the Plague: as Pauſanias tells us it was by the Arcadians, from whence he ſays the Plague was called [...] by the Greeks.
XXXIX.
‘VERSEE 430. At awful diſtance ſilent.]’ There was requir'd a very remarkable Management to preſerve all the Characters which are concern'd in this nice Conjuncture, wherein the Heralds were to obey at their Peril. Agamemnon was to be gratify'd by an Inſult on Achilles, and Achilles was to ſuffer ſo as might become his Pride, and not have his violent Temper provok'd. From all this the Poet has found the Secret to extricate himſelf, by only taking care to make his Heralds ſtand in ſight, and ſilent. Thus they neither make Aga⯑memnon's Majeſty ſuffer by uttering their Meſſage ſubmiſſively, nor occaſion a rough Treatment from Achilles by demanding Briſeis in the peremptory Air he order'd; and at the ſame time Achilles is gratify'd with the Opportunity of giving her up, as if he rather ſent her than was forc'd to relinquiſh her. The Art of this has been taken notice of by Euſtathius.
XL.
[27]‘VERSE 451. She in ſoft Sorrows.]’ The Behaviour of Bri⯑ſeis in her Departure is no leſs beautifully imagin'd than the former. A French or Italian Poet had laviſh'd all his Wit and Paſſion in two long Speeches on this Occaſion, which the Heralds muſt have wept to hear; inſtead of which Homer gives us a fine Picture of Nature. We ſee Briſeis paſſing un⯑willingly along, with a dejected Air, melted in Tenderneſs, and not able to utter a word: And in the Lines immediately following, we have a Contraſte to this in the gloomy Reſent⯑ment of Achilles, who ſuddenly retires to the Shore and vents his Rage aloud to the Seas. The Variation of the Numbers juſt in this Place adds a great Beauty to it, which has been endeavour'd at in the Tranſlation.
XLI.
‘VERSE 458. There bath'd in Tears.]’ Euſtathius obſerves on this Place that it is no Weakneſs in Heroes to weep, but the very Effect of Humanity and Proof of a generous Temper; for which he offers ſeveral Inſtances, and takes notice that if Sophocles would not let Ajax weep, it is becauſe he is drawn rather as a Madman than a Heroe. But this general Ob⯑ſervation is not all we can offer in excuſe for the Tears of Achilles: His are Tears of Anger and Diſdain (as I have ven⯑tur'd to call them in the Tranſlation) of which a great and fiery Temper is more ſuſceptible than any other; and even in this caſe Homer has taken care to preſerve the high Cha⯑racter, by making him retire to vent his Tears out of ſight. And we may add to theſe an Obſervation of which Madam Dacier is fond, which is, the Reaſon why Agamemnon parts not in Tears from Chryſeis, and Achilles ſhould from Briſeis: The one parts willingly from his Miſtreſs, and becauſe he does it for his People's Safety it becomes an Honour to him: the other is parted unwillingly, and becauſe his General takes her by force the Action reflects a Diſhonour upon him.
XLII.
[28]‘VERSE 464. The Thund'rer ow'd.]’ This alludes to a Story which Achilles tells the Embaſſadors of Agamemnon, Il. 9. That he had the Choice of two Fates: one leſs glorious at home, but bleſſed with a very long Life; the other full of Glory at Troy, but then he was never to return. The Alternative being thus propos'd to him (not from Jupitcr but Thetis who reveal'd the Decree) he choſe the latter, which he looks upon as his due, ſince he gives away length of Life for it: and accordingly when he complains to his Mo⯑ther of the Diſgrace he lies under, it is in this manner he makes a demand of Honour.
Monſ. de la Motte very judiciouſly obſerves, that but for this Fore-knowledge of the Certainty of his Death at Troy, Achilles's Character could have drawn but little Eſteem from the Reader. A Heroe of a vicious Mind, bleſt only with a Superiority of Strength, and invulnerable into the bar⯑gain, was not very proper to excite Admiration; but Homer by this exquiſite Piece of Art has made him the greateſt of Heroes, who is ſtill purſuing Glory in contempt of Death, and even under that Certainty generouſly devoting himſelf in every Action.
XLIII.
‘VERSE 478. From Thebae.]’ Homer who open'd his Poem with the Action which immediately brought on Achilles's An⯑ger, being now to give an Account of the ſame thing again, takes his Riſe more backward in the Story. Thus the Reader is inform'd in what he ſhould know, without having been delay'd from entering upon the promis'd Subject. This is the firſt Attempt which we ſee made towards the Poetical Me⯑thod of Narration, which differs from the Hiſtorical in that it does not proceed always directly in the Line of Time, but ſometimes relates things which have gone before when a more proper Opportunity demands it to make the Narration more informing or beautiful.
[29] The foregoing Remark is in regard only to the firſt ſix Lines of this Speech. What follows is a Rehearſal of the preceding Action of the Poem, almoſt in the ſame Words he had uſed in the opening it; and is one of thoſe Faults which has with moſt Juſtice been objected to our Author. It is not to be deny'd but the Account muſt be tedious, of what the Reader had been juſt before inform'd: and eſpecially when we are given to underſtand it was no way neceſſary, by what Achilles ſays at the beginning, that Thetis knew the whole Story already. As to repeating the ſame Lines, a Practice uſual with Homer, it is not ſo excuſable in this Place as in thoſe where Meſſages are deliver'd in the Words they were receiv'd, or the like; it being unnatural to imagine, that the Perſon whom the Poet introduces as actually ſpeak⯑ing, ſhould fall into the ſelf-ſame Words that are us'd in the Narration by the Poet himſelf. Yet Milton was ſo great an Admirer and Imitator of our Author, as not to have ſcrupled even this kind of Repetition. The Paſſage is at the end of his tenth Book, where Adam having declar'd he would pro⯑ſtrate himſelf before God in certain particular Acts of Humi⯑liation, thoſe Acts are immediately after deſcrib'd by the Poet in the ſame Words.
XLIV.
‘VERSE 514. Oft haſt thou triumph'd.]’ The Perſuaſive which Achilles is here made to put into the Mouth of Thetis, is moſt artfully contriv'd to ſuit the preſent Exigency. You, ſays he, muſt intreat Jupiter to bring Miſeries on the Greeks who are protected by Juno, Neptune, and Minerva: Put him there⯑fore in mind that thoſe Deities were once his Enemies, and adjure him by that Service you did him when thoſe very Powers would have bound him, that he will now in his turn aſſiſt you againſt the Endeavours they will certainly oppoſe to my Wiſhes. Euſtathius.
As for the Story itſelf, ſome have thought (with whom is Madam Dacier) that there was ſome imperfect Tradition of the Fall of the Angels for their Rebellion, which the Greeks had receiv'd by Commerce with Aegypt: and thus they ac⯑count [30] the Rebellion of the Gods, the Precipitation of Vulcan from Heaven; and Jove's threatning the inferior Gods with Tartarus in Il. 8. but as ſo many Hints of Scripture faintly imitated. But it ſeems not improbable that the Wars of the Gods, deſcribed by the Poets, allude to the Confuſion of the Elements before they were brought into their natural Order. It is almoſt generally agreed that by Jupiter is meant the Aether, and by Juno the Air. The ancient Philoſophers ſup⯑pos'd the Aether to be igneous, and by its kind Influence upon the Air to be the Cauſe of all Vegetation: Therefore Homer ſays in the 14th Iliad, ℣. 346. That upon Jupiter's embracing his Wife, the Earth put forth its Plants. Perhaps by Thetis's aſſiſting Jupiter, may be meant that the watry Ele⯑ment ſubſiding and taking its natural Place, put an end to this Combat of the Elements.
XLV.
‘VERSE 523. Whom Gods Briareus, Men Aegeon name.]’ This manner of making the Gods ſpeak a Language different from Men (which is frequent in Homer) is a Circumſtance that as far as it widens the diſtinction between divine and human Na⯑tures, ſo far might tend to heighten the Reverence paid the Gods. But beſides this, as the difference is thus told in Poetry, it is of uſe to the Poets themſelves: For it appears like a kind of Teſtimony of their Inſpiration, or their Con⯑verſe with the Gods, and thereby gives a Majeſty to their Works.
XLVI.
The Aethiopians, ſays Diodorus, l. 3. are ſaid to be the In⯑ventors of Pomps, Sacrifices, ſolemn Meetings, and other Honours paid to the Gods. From hence aroſe their Cha⯑racter of Piety, which is here celebrated by Homer. Among theſe there was an annual Feaſt at Dioſpolis, which Euſtathius [31] mentions, wherein they carry'd about the Statues of Jupiter and the other Gods, for twelve Days, according to their Number: to which if we add the ancient Cuſtom of ſetting Meat before Statues, it will appear a Rite from which this Fable might eaſily ariſe. But it would be a great Miſtake to imagine from this Place, that Homer repreſents the Gods as eating and drinking upon Earth: a groſs Notion he was ne⯑ver guilty of, as appears from theſe Verſes in the fifth Book, Line 340.
Macrobius would have it, that by Jupiter here mention'd is meant the Sun, and that the Number Twelve hints at the twelve Signs; but whatever may be ſaid in a critical Defence of this Opinion, I believe the Reader will be ſatisfy'd that Homer conſider'd as a Poet would have his Machinery under⯑ſtood upon that Syſtem of the Gods which is properly Graecian.
One may take notice here, that it were to be wiſh'd ſome Paſſage were found in any authentic Author that might tell us the time of the Year when the Aethiopians kept this Feſtival at Dioſpolis: For from thence one might determine the preciſe Seaſon of the Year wherein the Actions of the Iliad are repreſented to have happen'd; and perhaps by that means farther explain the Beauty and Propriety of many Paſ⯑ſages in the Poem.
XLVII.
‘VERSE 600. The Sacrifice.]’ If we conſider this Paſſage, it is not made to ſhine in Poetry: All that can be done is to give it Numbers, and endeavour to ſet the Particulars in a diſtinct View. But if we take it in another Light, and as a Piece of Learning, it is valuable for being the moſt exact Account of the ancient Sacrifices any where left us. There is firſt the Purification, by waſhing of Hands. Secondly the offering up of Prayers. Thirdly the Mola, or Barley Cakes thrown upon the Victim. Fourthly the manner of killing it [32] with the Head turn'd upwards to the celeſtial Gods (as they turn'd it downwards when they offer'd to the Infernals.) Fifthly their ſelecting the Thighs and Fat for their Gods as the beſt of the Sacrifice, and the diſpoſing about them pieces cut from every part for a Repreſentation of the whole: (Hence the Thighs, or [...], are frequently us'd in Homer and the Greek Poets for the whole Victim.) Sixthly the Li⯑bation of Wine. Seventhly conſuming the Thighs in the Fire of the Altar. Eighthly the Sacrificers dreſſing and Feaſt⯑ing on the reſt, with Joy and Hymns to the Gods. Thus punctually have the ancient Poets and in particular Homer, written with a care and reſpect to Religion. One may que⯑ſtion whether any Country as much a Stranger to Chriſtia⯑nity as we are to Heatheniſm, might be ſo well inform'd by our Poets in the Worſhip belonging to any Profeſſion of Re⯑ligion at preſent.
I am obliged to take notice how intirely Mr. Dryden has miſtaken the Senſe of this Paſſage, and the Cuſtom of Anti⯑quity; for in his Tranſlation, the Cakes are thrown into the Fire inſtead of being caſt on the Victim; the Sacrificers are made to eat the Thighs and whatever belong'd to the Gods; and no part of the Victim is conſum'd for a Burnt-offering, ſo that in effect there is no Sacrifice at all. Some of the Mi⯑ſtakes (particularly that of turning the Roaſt-meat on the Spits, which was not known in Homer's Days) he was led into by Chapman's Tranſlation.
XLVIII.
‘VERSE 681. The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable Sign.]’ There are among Men three things by which the Efficacy of a Pro⯑miſe may be made void; the Deſign not to perform it, the want of Power to bring it to paſs, and the Inſtability of our Tempers, from all which Homer ſaw that the Divinity muſt be exempted, and therefore he deſcribes the Nod, or Ratifi⯑cation of Jupiter's word, as faithful in Oppoſition to Fraud, ſure of being perform'd in Oppoſition to Weakneſs, and irre⯑vocable in Oppoſition to our repenting of a Promiſe. Euſtathius.
XLIX.
[33]‘VERSE 683. He ſpoke, and awful bends.]’ This Deſcription of the Majeſty of Jupiter has ſomething exceedingly grand and venerable. Macrobius reports, that Phidias having made his Olympian Jupiter which paſt for one of the greateſt Mi⯑racles of Art, he was ask'd from what Pattern he fram'd ſo divine a Figure, and anſwer'd, it was from that Archetype which he found in theſe Lines of Homer. The ſame Author has alſo taken notice of Virgil's imitating it, l. 10.
Here indeed he has preſerv'd the Nod with its ſtupendous Ef⯑fect, the making the Heavens tremble. But he has neglected the Deſcription of the Eyebrows and the Hair, thoſe chief Pieces of Imagery from whence the Artiſt took the Idea of a Countenance proper for the King of Gods and Men.
Thus far Macrobius, whom Scaliger anſwers in this manner; Aut ludunt Phidiam, aut nos ludit Phidias: Etiam ſine Homero puto illum ſciſſe, Jovem non carere ſuperciliis & caeſarie.
L.
‘VERSE 694. Jove aſſumes the Throne.]’ As Homer makes the firſt Council of his Men to be one continued Scene of Anger, whereby the Graecian Chiefs became divided, ſo he makes the firſt Meeting of the Gods to be ſpent in the ſame Paſſion; whereby Jupiter is more fix'd to aſſiſt the Trojans and Juno more incens'd againſt them. Thus the Deſign of the Poem goes on: the Anger which began the Book overſpreads all exiſtent Beings by the latter end of it: Hea⯑ven and Earth become engag'd in the Subject, by which it riſes to a great Importance in the Reader's Eyes, and is ha⯑ſten'd forward into the briskeſt Scenes of Action that can be fram'd upon that violent Paſſion.
LI.
[34]‘VERSE 698. Say, artful Manager.]’ The Gods and God⯑deſſes being deſcrib'd with all the Deſires and Pleaſures, the Paſſions and Humours of Mankind, the Commentators have taken a Licence from thence to draw not only moral Obſer⯑vations, but alſo ſatyrical Reflections out of this part of the Poet. Theſe I am ſorry to ſee fall ſo hard upon Womankind, and all by Juno's means. Sometimes ſhe procures them a Leſſon for their Curioſity and Unquietneſs, and at other times for their loud and vexatious Tempers. Juno deſerves them on the one hand, Jupiter thunders them out on the other, and the learned Gentlemen are very particular in enlarging with Remarks on both ſides. In her firſt Speech they make the Poet deſcribe the inquiſitive Temper of Womankind in gene⯑ral, and their Reſtleſneſs if they are not admitted into every Secret. In his Anſwer to this, they trace thoſe Methods of grave Remonſtrance by which it is proper for Husbands to calm them. In her Reply, they find it is the Nature of Wo⯑men to be more obſtinate for being yielded to: and in his ſecond Return to her, they ſee the laſt Method to be uſed with them upon failure of the firſt, which is the Exerciſe of Sovereign Authority.
Mr. Dryden has tranſlated all this with the utmoſt Severity upon the Ladies, and ſpirited the whole with ſatyrical Addi⯑tions of his own. But Madam Dacier (who has elſewhere animadverted upon the good Biſhop of Theſſalonica, for his ſage Admonitions againſt the Fair Sex) has not taken the leaſt notice of this general Defection from Complaiſance in all the Commentators. She ſeems willing to give the whole Paſſage a more important Turn, and incline us to think that Homer deſign'd to repreſent the Folly and Danger of prying into the Secrets of Providence. 'Tis thrown into that Air in this Tranſlation, not only as it is more noble and inſtructive in general, but as it is more reſpectful to the Ladies in par⯑ticular; nor ſhould we (any more than Madam Dacier) have mention'd what thoſe old Fellows have ſaid, but to deſire their Protection againſt ſome modern Criticks their Diſciples, who may arraign this Proceeding.
LII.
[35]‘VERSE 713. Roll'd the large Orbs.]’ The Greek is [...], which is commonly tranſlated The venerable Ox⯑ey'd Juno. Madam Dacier very well obſerves that [...] is only an augmentative Particle, and ſignifies no more than valdè. It may be added, that the Imagination of Oxen having larger Eyes than ordinary is ill grounded, and has no Foundation in Truth; their Eyes are no larger in proportion than thoſe of Men, or of moſt other Animals. But be it as it will, the deſign of the Poet which is only to expreſs the Largeneſs of her Eyes, is anſwer'd in this Paraphraſe.
LIII.
‘VERSE 741. Thus interpos'd the Architect divine.]’ This Quarrel of the Gods being come to its height, the Poet makes Vulcan interpoſe, who freely puts them in mind of Pleaſure, inoffenſively adviſes Juno, illuſtrates his Advice by an Exam⯑ple of his own Misfortune, turning the Jeſt on himſelf to enliven the Banquet; and concludes the Part he is to ſupport with ſerving Nectar about. Homer had here his Minerva or Wiſdom to interpoſe again, and every other Quality of the Mind reſided in Heaven under the Appearance of ſome Deity: So that his introducing Vulcan, proceeded not from a want of Choice, but an Inſight into Nature. He knew that a Friend to Mirth often diverts or ſtops Quarrels, eſpecially when he contrives to ſubmit himſelf to the Laugh, and prevails on the angry to part in good Humour or in a Diſpoſition to Friend⯑ſhip; when grave Repreſentations are ſometimes Reproaches, ſometimes lengthen the Debate by occaſioning Defences, and ſometimes introduce new Parties into the Conſequences of it.
LIV.
‘VERSE 760. Once in your Cauſe I felt his matchleſs Might.]’ They who ſearch another Vein of Allegory for hidden Know⯑ledges in Natural Philoſophy, have conſider'd Jupiter and [36] Juno as Heaven and the Air, whoſe Alliance is interrupted when the Air is troubled above, but reſtor'd again when it is clear'd by Heat, or Vulcan the God of Heat. Him they call a divine Artificer, from the Activity or general Uſe of Fire in working. They ſuppoſe him to be born in Heaven where Philoſophers ſay that Element has its proper Place; and is thence deriv'd to the Earth which is ſignify'd by the Fall of Vulcan; that he fell in Lemnos, becauſe that Iſland abounds with Subterranean Fires; and that he contracted a Lameneſs or Imperfection by the Fall; the Fire not being ſo pure and active below, but mix'd and terreſtrial. Euſtathius.
LVI.
‘VERSE 767. Which with a Smile the white-arm'd Queen receiv'd.]’ The Epithet [...], or white-arm'd, is uſed by Homer ſeveral times before in this Book. This was the firſt Paſſage where it could be introduced with any Eaſe or Grace, becauſe the Action ſhe is here deſcrib'd in, of extending her Arm to the Cup, gives it an occaſion of diſplaying its Beau⯑ties, and in a manner demands the Epithet.
LVII.
‘VERSE 771. Laughter ſhakes the Skies.]’ Vulcan deſign'd to move Laughter by taking upon him the Office of Hebe and Ganymede, with his aukward limping Carriage. But tho' he prevail'd and Homer tells you the Gods did laugh, yet he takes care not to mention a word of Lameneſs. It would have been cruel in him and Wit out of Seaſon, to have en⯑larg'd with Deriſion upon an Imperfection which is out of one's Power to remedy.
According to this good-natur'd Opinion of Euſtathius, Mr. Dryden has treated Vulcan a little barbarouſly. He makes his Character perfectly comical, he is the Jeſt of the Board, and the Gods are very merry upon the Imperfections of his Figure. Chapman led him into this Error in general, as well as into ſome Indecencies of Expreſſion in particular, which will be ſeen upon comparing them.
LVIII.
[37]‘VERSE 778. Then to their ſtarry Domes.]’ The Aſtrologers aſſign twelve Houſes to the Planets, wherein they are ſaid to have Dominion. Now becauſe Homer tells us Vulcan built a Manſion for every God, the Ancients write that he firſt gave occaſion for this Doctrine.
LIX.
‘VERSE 780. Jove on his Couch reclin'd his awful Head.]’ Euſtathius makes a diſtinction between [...] and [...]; the Words which are uſed at the end of this Book and the begin⯑ning of the next, with regard to Jupiter's ſleeping. He ſays [...] only means Lying down in a Diſpoſition to ſleep; which ſalves the Contradiction that elſe would follow in the next Book, where it is ſaid Jupiter did not ſleep. I only mention this to vindicate the Tranſlation which differs from Mr. Dryden's.
It has been remark'd by the Scholiaſts, that this is the on⯑ly Book of the twenty four without any Simile, a Figure in which Homer abounds every where elſe. The like Remark is made by Madam Dacier upon the firſt of the Odyſſes; and becauſe the Poet has obſerv'd the ſame Conduct in both Works, it is concluded he thought a Simplicily of Style with⯑out the great Figures was proper during the firſt Information of the Reader. This Obſervation may be true, and admits of refin'd Reaſonings; but for my part I cannot think the Book had been the worſe, tho' he had thrown in as many Similes as Virgil has in the firſt Aeneid.
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ILIAD.
[]The ARGUMENT.
The Tryal of the Army and Catalogue of the Forces.
[]JUPITER in purſuance of the Requeſt of Thetis, ſends a deceitful Viſion to Agamemnon, perſuading him to lead the Army to Battel; in order to make the Greeks ſenſible of their want of Achilles. The General, who is de⯑luded with the hopes of taking Troy without his Aſſiſtance, but fears the Army was diſcourag'd by his Abſence and the late Plague, as well as by length of Time, contrives to make trial of their Diſpoſition by a Stratagem. He firſt communicates his Deſign to the Princes in Council, that he would propoſe a Re⯑turn to the Soldiers, and that they ſhould put a ſtop to them if the Propoſal was embrac'd. Then he aſſembles the whole Hoſt, and upon moving for a Return to Greece, they unanimouſly agree to it and run to prepare the Ships. They are detain'd by the Management of Ulyſſes, who chaſtiſes the Inſolence of Therſites. The Aſſembly is recall'd, ſeveral Speeches made on the occaſion, and at length the Advice of Neſtor follow'd, which was to make a general Muſter of the Troops, and to divide them into their ſeveral Nations, before they proceeded to Battel. This gives occaſion to the Poet to ennumerate all the Forces of the Greeks and Trojans, in a large Catalogue.
The Time employ'd in this Book conſiſts not intirely of one Day. The Scene lies in the Graecian Camp and upon the Sea-Shore; toward the end it removes to Troy.
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ILIAD.
[1]THE CATALOGUE of the SHIPS.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE Second Book.
[3]OBSERVATIONS ON THE SECOND BOOK.
[]I.
‘VERSE 1. NOW pleaſing Sleep, &c.]’ Ariſtotle tells us in the twenty ſixth Chapter of his Art of Poetry, that this Place had been objected to by ſome Criticks in thoſe Times. They thought it gave a very ill Idea of the mi⯑litary Diſcipline of the Greeks, to repreſent a whole Ar⯑my unguarded, and all the Leaders a-ſleep: They alſo pretended it was ridiculous to deſcribe all the Gods ſleep⯑ing beſides Jupiter. To both theſe Ariſtotle anſwers, that nothing is more uſual or allowable than that Fi⯑gure which puts All for the greater Part. One may add with reſpect to the latter Criticiſm, that nothing could give a better Image of the Superiority of Jupiter to the other Gods (or of the ſupreme Being to all ſecond Cauſes) than the Vigilancy here aſcrib'd to him, over all Things Divine and Human.
II.
‘VERSE 9. Fly hence, deluding Dream.]’ It appears from Ariſtotle, Poet. cap. 26. that Homer was accus'd of Impiety, for making Jupiter the Author of a Lye in this Paſſage. It ſeems there were anciently theſe Words in his Speech to the Dream; [...], Let us give him great Glory. [4] (Inſtead of which we have in the preſent Copies, [...]) but Hippias found a way to bring off Homer, only by placing the Accent on the laſt Syllable but one, [...], for [...], the Infinitive for the Imperative: which amounts to no more than that he bade the Dream to Promiſe him great Glory. But Macrobius de ſomnio Scip. l. 1. c. 7. takes off this Imputation entirely, and will not allow there was any Lye in the Caſe. ‘"Agamemnon (ſays he) was or⯑der'd by the Dream to lead out All the Forces of the Greeks ( [...] is the word) and promis'd the Victory on that Condition: Now Achilles and his Forces not being ſummon'd to the Aſſembly with the reſt, that Neglect ab⯑ſolv'd Jupiter from his Promiſe."’ This Remark Madam Dacier has inſerted without mentioning its Author. Mr. Da⯑cier takes notice of a Paſſage in the Scripture exactly parallel to this, where God is repreſented making uſe of the Malig⯑nity of his Creatures to accompliſh his Judgments. 'Tis in 2 Chron.. ch. 18. ℣. 19, 20, 21. And the Lord ſaid, Who will perſuade Ahab, that he may go up and fall at Ramoth Gilead? And there came forth a Spirit, and ſtood before the Lord, and ſaid, I will perſuade him. And the Lord ſaid unto him, Wherewith? And he ſaid, I will go forth, and I will be a lying Spirit in the Mouth of all his Prophets, And he ſaid, Thou ſhalt perſuade him and prevail alſo: Go forth and do ſo. Vide Dacier upon Ariſtotle, cap. 26.
III.
‘VERSE 20. Deſcends and hovers o'er Atrides' Head.]’ The whole Action of the Dream is beautifully natural, and agree⯑able to Philoſophy. It perches on his Head, to intimate that Part to be the Seat of the Soul: It is circumfuſed about him, to expreſs that total Poſſeſſion of the Senſes which Fancy has during our Sleeps. It takes the Figure of the Perſon who was deareſt to Agamemnon; as whatever we think of moſt when awake, is the common Object of our Dreams. And juſt at the Inſtant of its vaniſhing, it leaves ſuch an Impreſſion that the Voice ſeems ſtill to ſound in his Ear. No Deſcrip⯑tion can be more exact or lively. Euſtathius, Dacier.
IV.
[5]‘VERSE 33. Draw forth th' embattel'd Train, &c.]’ The Dream here repeats the Meſſage of Jupiter in the ſame Terms that he receiv'd it. It is no leſs than the Father of Gods and Men who gives the Order, and to alter a word were Pre⯑ſumption. Homer conſtantly makes his Envoys obſerve this Practice as a Mark of Decency and reſpect. Madam Dacier and others have applauded this in general, and ask'd by what Authority an Embaſſador could alter the Terms of his Commiſſion, ſince he is not greater or wiſer than the Perſon who gave the Charge? But this is not always the Caſe in our Author, who not only makes uſe of this Conduct with reſpect to the Orders of a higher Power, but in regard to Equals alſo; as when one Goddeſs deſires another to repre⯑ſent ſuch an Affair, and ſhe immediately takes the Words from her Mouth and repeats them, of which we have an In⯑ſtance in this Book. Some Objection too may be rais'd to this manner, when Commiſſions are given in the utmoſt haſte (in a Battel or the like) upon ſudden Emergencies; where it ſeems not very natural to ſuppoſe a Man has time to get ſo many Words by heart as he is made to repeat exactly. In the preſent Inſtance, the Repetition is certainly grace⯑ful, tho' Zenodotus thought it not ſo the third time, when Agamemnon tells his Dream to the Council. I do not pretend to decide upon the Point: For tho' the Reverence of the Repetition ſeem'd leſs needful in that Place than when it was deliver'd immediately from Jupiter; yet (as Euſtathius obſerves) it was neceſſary for the Aſſembly to know the Cir⯑cumſtances of this Dream, that the Truth of the Relation might be unſuſpected.
V.
‘VERSE 93. Now valiant Chiefs, &c.]’ The beſt Commen⯑tary extant upon the firſt Part of this Book is in Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus, who has given us an admirable Explication of this whole Conduct of Agamemnon in his ſecond Treatiſe [6] [...]. He ſays, ‘"This Prince had nothing ſo much at Heart as to draw the Greeks to a Battel, yet knew not how to proceed without Achilles, who had juſt retir'd from the Army; and was apprehenſive that the Greeks who were diſpleas'd at the Departure of Achilles, might re⯑fuſe Obedience to his Orders, ſhould he abſolutely com⯑mand it. In this Circumſtance he propoſes to the Princes in Council to make a Tryal of arming the Graecians, and offers an Expedient himſelf; which was that he ſhould ſound their Diſpoſitions by exhorting him to ſet ſail for Greece, but that then the other Princes ſhould be ready to diſſuade and detain them. If any object to this Stratagem that Agamemnon's whole Scheme would be ruin'd if the Army ſhould take him at his word (which was very pro⯑bable) it is to be anſwer'd, that his Deſign lay deeper than they imagine, nor did he depend upon his Speech only for detaining them. He had ſome Cauſe to fear the Greeks had a Pique againſt him which they had conceal'd, and whatever it was, he judg'd it abſolutely neceſſary to know it before he proceeded to a Battel. He therefore furniſhes them with an Occaſion to manifeſt it, and at the ſame time provides againſt any ill Effects it might have by his ſecret Orders to the Princes. It ſucceeds accordingly, and when the Troops are running to embark, they are ſtop'd by Ulyſſes and Neſtor."’—One may farther obſerve that this whole Stratagem is concerted in Neſtor's Ship, as one whoſe Wiſdom and Secrecy was moſt confided in. The Story of the Viſion's appearing in his Shape, could not but engage him in ſome degree: It look'd as if Jupiter himſelf added Weight to his Counſels by making uſe of that venerable Ap⯑pearance, and knew this to be the moſt powerful Method of recommending them to Agamemnon. It was therefore but natural for Neſtor to ſecond the Motion of the King, and by the help of his Authority it prevail'd on the other Princes.
VI.
‘VERSE 111. As from ſome rocky Cleft.]’ This is the firſt Simile in Homer, and we may obſerve in general that he ex⯑cels [7] all Mankind in the Number, Variety, and Beauty of his Compariſons. There are ſcarce any in Virgil which are not tranſlated from him, and therefore when he ſucceeds beſt in them he is to be commended but as an Improver. Scaliger ſeems not to have thought of this when he compares the Similes of theſe two Authors (as indeed they are the Places moſt ob⯑vious to Compariſon.) The preſent Paſſage is an Inſtance of it, to which he oppoſes the following Verſes in the firſt Aeneid.
This he very much prefers to Homer's, and in particular ex⯑tols the Harmony and Sweetneſs of the Verſification above that of our Author; againſt which Cenſure we need only ap⯑peal to the Ears of the Reader.
But Scaliger was unlucky in his Choice of this particular Com⯑pariſon: There is a very fine one in the ſixth Aeneid, ℣. 707. that better agrees with Homer's: And nothing is more evi⯑dent than that the deſign of theſe two is very different: Homer intended to deſcribe the Multitude of Greeks pouring out of the Ships, Virgil the Diligence and Labour of the Buil⯑ders at Carthage. And Macrobius who obſerves this difference Sat. l. 5. c. 11. ſhould alſo have found, that therefore the Si⯑miles ought not to be compar'd together. The Beauty of Homer's is not inferior to Virgil's, if we conſider with what Exactneſs it anſwers to its end. It conſiſts of three Particu⯑lars; [8] the vaſt Number of the Troops is expreſt in the Swarms, their tumultuous manner of iſſuing out of the Ships, and the perpetual Egreſſion which ſeem'd without end, are imaged in the Bees pouring out of the Rock; and laſtly their Diſperſion over all the Shore, in their deſcending on the Flowers in the Vales. Spondanus was therefore miſtaken when he thought the whole Application of this Compariſon lay in the ſingle word [...], catervatim, as Chapman has juſtly obſerv'd.
VII.
‘VERSE 121. Fame flies before.]’ This aſſembling of the Army is full of Beauties: The lively Deſcription of their overſpreading the Field, the noble Boldneſs of the Figure when Fame is repreſented in Perſon ſhining at their Head, the univerſal Tumult ſucceeded by a ſolemn Silence; and laſtly the graceful riſing of Agamemnon, all contribute to caſt a Majeſty on this Part. In the Paſſage of the Sceptre, Homer has found an artful and poetical manner of acquainting us with the high Deſcent of Agamemnon, and celebrating the hereditary Right of his Family; as well as finely hint⯑ed the Original of his Power to be deriv'd from Heaven, in ſaying the Sceptre was firſt the Gift of Jupiter. It is with reference to this that in the Line where he firſt mentions it, he calls it [...], and accordingly it is tranſlated in that Place.
VIII.
‘VERSE 138. And artful thus pronounc'd the Speech deſign'd.]’ The Remarks of Dionyſius upon this Speech I ſhall give the Reader altogether, tho' they lie ſcatter'd in his two Diſcourſes [...], the ſecond of which is in a great Degree but a Repetition of the Precepts and Examples of the firſt. This happen'd, I believe, from his having compos'd them at diſtinct Times and upon different Occaſions.
‘"It is an exquiſite Piece of Art, when you ſeem to aim at perſuading one thing, and at the ſame time inforce the contrary. This kind of Rhetorick is of great uſe in all [9] Occaſions of Danger, and is what Homer has afforded a moſt powerful Example of in the Oration of Agamemnon. 'Tis a Method perfectly wonderful, and even carries in it an Appearance of Abſurdity; for all that we generally eſteem the Faults of Oratory, by this means become the Virtues of it. Nothing is look'd upon as a greater Error in a Rhetorician than to alledge ſuch Arguments as either are eaſily anſwer'd, or may be retorted upon himſelf, the former is a weak Part, the latter a dangerous one; and Aga⯑memnon here deſignedly deals in both. For it is plain that if a Man muſt not uſe weak Arguments, or ſuch as may make againſt him, when he intends to perſuade the Thing he ſays; then on the other ſide, when he does not intend it; he muſt obſerve the contrary Proceeding, and make what are the Faults of Oratory in general, the Excellencies of that Oration in particular, or otherwiſe he will contra⯑dict his own Intention and perſſuade the contrary to what he means. Agamemnon begins with an Argument eaſily anſwer'd, by telling them that Jupiter had promis'd to crown their Arms with Victory. For if Jupiter had pro⯑mis'd this, it was a reaſon for the Stay in the Camp. But now (ſays he) Jove has deceiv'd us, and we muſt return with Ignominy. This is another of the ſame kind, for it ſhews what a Diſgrace it is to return. What follows is of the ſecond ſort and may be turn'd againſt him. Jove will have it ſo: For which they have only Agamemnon's Word, but Jove's own Promiſe for the contrary. That God has overthrown many Cities, and will yet overturn many others. This was a ſtrong Reafon to ſtay, and put their Confidence in him. It is ſhameful to have it told to all Poſterity that ſo many thouſand Greeks, after a War of ſo long Continuance, at laſt return'd home baffled and unſucceſsful. All this might have been ſaid by a pro⯑feſt Adverſary to the Cauſe he pleads, and indeed is the ſame thing Ulyſſes ſays elſewhere in Reproach of their Flight. The Concluſion evidently ſhews the Intent of the Speaker. Haſte then, let us fly; [...], the Word which of all others was moſt likely to prevail upon them to ſtay; the moſt open Term of Diſgrace he could [10] poſſibly have us'd: 'Tis the ſame which Juno makes uſe of to Minerva, Minerva to Ulyſſes, and Ulyſſes again to the Troops, to diſſuade their Return; the ſame which Agamemnon himſelf had uſed to inſult Achilles, and which Homer never employs but with the Mark of Cowardice and Infamy."’
The ſame Author farther obſerves, ‘"That this whole Oration has the Air of being ſpoken in a Paſſion. It be⯑gins with a Stroke of the greateſt Raſhneſs and Impatience. Jupiter has been unjuſt, Heaven has deceiv'd us. This ren⯑ders all he ſhall ſay of the leſs Authority, at the ſame time that it conceals his own Artifice; for his Anger ſeems to account for the Incongruities he utters."’ I could not ſuppreſs ſo fine a Remark, tho' it falls out of the Order of thoſe which precede it.
Before I leave this Article, I muſt take notice that this Speech of Agamemnon is again put into his Mouth in the ninth Iliad, and (according to Dionyſius) for the ſame Pur⯑poſe, to detain the Army at the Siege after a Defeat; tho' it ſeems unartful to put the ſame Trick twice upon the Greeks by the ſame Perſon, and in the ſame Words too. We may indeed ſuppoſe the firſt Feint to have remain'd undiſ⯑cover'd, but at beſt it is a Management in the Poet not very entertaining to the Readers.
IX.
‘VERSE 155. So ſmall their Number, &c.]’ This Part has a low Air in Compariſon with the reſt of the Speech. Scaliger calls it Tabernariam Orationem: But it is well obſerv'd by Madam Dacier, that the Image Agamemnon here gives of the Trojans, does not only render their Numbers contemptible in Compariſon of the Greeks, but their Perſons too. For it makes them appear but as a few vile Slaves fit only to ſerve them with Wine: To which we may add that it affords a Proſpect to his Soldiers of their future State and Triumph after the Conqueſt of their Enemies.
This Paſſage gives me occaſion to animadvert upon a Com⯑putation of the Number of the Trojans, which the learned [11] Angelus Politian has offer'd at in his Preface to Homer. He thinks they were fifty thouſand without the Auxiliaries, from the Concluſion of the eighth Iliad, where it is ſaid there were a thouſand funeral Piles of Trojans, and fifty Men attending each of them. But that the Auxiliaries are to be admitted into that Number appears plainly from this Place: Aga⯑memnon expreſly diſtinguiſhes the native Trojans from the Aids, and reckons but one to ten Graecians, at which Eſtimate there could not be above ten thouſand Trojans. See the Notes on the Catalogue.
X.
This, and ſome other Paſſages, are here tranſlated correſpon⯑dent to the general Air and Senſe of this Speech, rather than juſt to the Letter. The telling them in this Place how much their Shipping was decay'd, was a Hint of their Danger in returning, as Madam Dacier has remark'd.
XI.
‘VERSE 175. So roll the Billows, &c.]’ One may take no⯑tice that Homer in theſe two Similitudes has judiciouſly made choice of the two moſt wavering and inconſtant Things in Nature, to compare with the Multitude; the Waves, and Ears of Corn. The firſt alludes to the Noiſe and Tumult of the People, in the breaking and rolling of the Billows; the ſecond to their taking the ſame Courſe, like Corn bending one way; and both to the Eaſineſs with which they are mov'd by every Breath.
XII.
‘VERSE 243. To one ſole Monarch.]’ Thoſe Perſons are un⯑der a Miſtake who would make this Sentence a Praiſe of Abſolute Monarchy. Homer ſpeaks it only with regard to a General of an Army during the time of his Commiſſion. Nor is Agamemnon ſtyl'd King of Kings in any other Senſe, than as the reſt of the Princes had given him the ſupreme [12] Authority over them in the Siege. Ariſtotle defines a King, [...]; Leader of the War, Judge of Controverſies, and Preſident of the Ceremonies of the Gods. That he had the principal Care of religious Rites appears from many Places in Homer; and that his Power was no where abſolute but in War: for we find Agamemnon inſulted in the Council, but in the Army threatning Deſerters with Death. He was under an Obliga⯑tion to preſerve the Privileges of his Country, purſuant to which Kings are called by our Author [...], and [...], the Diſpenſers or Managers of Juſtice. And Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus acquaints us, that the old Graecian Kings, whether Hereditary or Elective, had a Council of their chief Men, as Homer and the moſt ancient Poets teſtify; nor was it (he adds) in thoſe Times as in ours, when Kings have a full Liberty to do whatever they pleaſe. Dion. Hal. lib. 2. Hiſt.
XIII.
‘VERSE 255. Therſites only.]’ The Ancients have aſcrib'd to Homer the firſt Sketch of Satyric or Comic Poetry, of which ſort was his Poem call'd Margites, as Ariſtotle re⯑ports. Tho' that Piece be loſt, this Character of Therſites may give us a Taſte of his Vein in that kind. But whether ludicrous Deſcriptions ought to have Place in the Epic Poem, has been juſtly queſtion'd: Neither Virgil nor any of the moſt approv'd Ancients have thought fit to admit them into their Compoſitions of that Nature; nor any of the beſt Moderns except Milton, whoſe Fondneſs for Homer might be the reaſon of it. However this is in its kind a very maſterly Part, and our Author has ſhewn great Judgment in the Particulars he has choſen to compoſe the Picture of a pernicious Creature of Wit; the chief of which are a Deſire of promoting Laughter at any rate, and a Con⯑tempt of his Superiors. And he ſums up the whole very ſtrongly, by ſaying that Therſites hated Achilles and Ulyſſes; in which, as Plutarch has remark'd in his Treatiſe of Envy and Hatred, he makes it the utmoſt Completion of an ill Character to bear a Malevolence to the beſt Men. What [13] is farther obſervable is, that Therſites is never heard of after this his firſt Appearance: Such a ſcandalous Character is to be taken no more notice of, than juſt to ſhew that 'tis deſpi⯑ſed. Homer has obſerv'd the ſame Conduct with regard to the moſt deform'd and moſt beautiful Perſon of his Poem: For Nireus is thus mention'd once and no more throughout the Ilaid. He places a worthleſs Beauty and an ill-natur'd Wit upon the ſame Foot, and ſhews that the Gifts of the Body without thoſe of the Mind are not more deſpicable, than thoſe of the Mind itſelf without Virtue.
XIV.
‘VERSE 275. Amidſt the Glories.]’ 'Tis remark'd by Diony⯑ſius Halicar. in his Treatiſe of the Examination of Writers; that there could not be a better Artifice thought on to re⯑cal the Army to their Obedience, than this of our Author. When they were offended at their General in favour of Achil⯑les, nothing could more weaken Achilles's Intereſt than to make ſuch a Fellow as Therſites appear of his Party, whoſe Impertinence would give them a Diſguſt of thinking or act⯑ing like him. There is no ſurer Method to reduce generous Spirits, than to make them ſee they are purſuing the ſame Views with People of no Merit, and ſuch whom they cannot forbear deſpiſing themſelves. Otherwiſe there is nothing in this Speech but what might become the Mouth of Neſtor himſelf, if you except a word or two. And had Neſtor ſpo⯑ken it, the Army had certainly ſet ſail for Greece; but be⯑cauſe it was utter'd by a ridiculous Fellow whom they are aſham'd to follow, they are reduc'd, and ſatisfy'd to continue the Siege.
XV.
‘VERSE 284. The Greeks and I.]’ Theſe Boaſts of himſelf are the few Words which Dionyſius objects to in the foregoing Paſſage. I cannot but think the grave Commentators here very much miſtaken, who imagine Therſites in earneſt in theſe Vaunts, and ſeriouſly reprove his Inſolence. They ſeem to me manifeſt Strokes of Irony, which had render'd them [14] ſo much the more improper in the Mouth of Neſtor, who was otherwiſe none of the leaſt Boaſters himſelf. And conſi⯑der'd as ſuch they are equal to the reſt of the Speech, which has an infinite deal of Spirit, Humour, and Satyr.
XVI.
‘VERSE 326. He ſaid, and cow'ring.]’ The vile Figure Therſites makes here is a good Piece of Groteſque; the Plea⯑ſure expreſs'd by the Soldiers at this Action of Ulyſſes (not⯑withſtanding they are diſappointed by him of their Hopes of returning) is agreeable to that generous Temper, at once ho⯑neſt and thoughtleſs, which is commonly found in military Men; to whom nothing is ſo odious as a Daſtard, and who have not naturally the greateſt Kindneſs for a Wit.
XVII.
‘VERSE 348. Unhappy Monarch! &c.]’ Quintilian ſpeak⯑ing of the various Kinds of Oratory which may be learn'd from Homer, mentions among the greateſt Inſtances the Speeches in this Book. Nonne vel unus liber quo miſſa ad Achillem legatio continetur, vel in primo inter duces illa con⯑tentio, vel dictae in ſecundo ſententiae, omnes litium ac conſi⯑liorum explicat artes? Affectus quidem vel illos mites, vel hos concitatos, nemo erit tam indoctus, qui non ſuâ in poteſtate hunc autorem habuiſſe fateatur. It is indeed hardly poſſible to find any where more refin'd Turns of Policy, or more artful Touches of Oratory. We have no ſooner ſeen Aga⯑memnon excel in one ſort, but Ulyſſes is to ſhine no leſs in another directly oppoſite to it. When the Stratagem of pretending to ſet ſail, had met with too ready a Con⯑ſent from the People, his Eloquence appears in all the Forms of Art. In his firſt Speech he had perſuaded the Captains with Mildneſs, telling them the People's Glory de⯑pended upon them, and readily giving a Turn to the firſt Deſign, which had like to have been ſo dangerous, by repre⯑ſenting it only as a Project of Agamemnon to diſcover the cowardly. In his ſecond, he had commanded the Soldiers [15] with Bravery, and made them know what Part they ſuſtain'd in the War. In his third, he had rebuk'd the Seditious in the Perſon of Therſites, by Reproofs, Threats, and actual Chaſtiſements. And now in this fourth, when all are ga⯑ther'd he applies to them in Topics which equally affect them all: He raiſes their Hearts by putting them in mind of the Promiſes of Heaven, and thoſe Prophecies of which as they had ſeen the Truth in the nine Years Delay, they might now expect the Accompliſhment in the tenth Year's Succeſs: which is a full Anſwer to what Agamemnon had ſaid of Jupiter's deceiving them.
Dionyſius obſerves one ſingular Piece of Art, in Ulyſſes's manner of applying himſelf to the People when he would inſinuate any thing to the Princes, and addreſſing to the Princes when he would blame the People. He tells the Sol⯑diers, they muſt not all pretend to be Rulers there, let there be one King, one Lord; which is manifeſtly a Precept de⯑ſign'd for the Leaders to take to themſelves. In the ſame manner Tiberius Rhetor remarks the beginning of his laſt Oration to be a fine Ethopopeia or oblique Repreſentation of the People, upon whom the Severity of the Reproach is made to fall, while he ſeems to render the King an Object of their Pity.
XVIII.
‘VERSE 402. Then Neſtor thus.]’ Nothing is more obſer⯑vable than Homer's Conduct of this whole Incident; by what judicious and well-imagined Degrees the Army is reſtrain'd, and wrought up to the Deſires of the General. We have given the Detail of all the Methods Ulyſſes proceeded in: The Activity of his Character is now to be contraſted with the Gravity of Neſtor's, who covers and ſtrengthens the other's Arguments, and conſtantly appears thro' the Poem a weighty Cloſer of Debates. The Greeks had already ſeen their General give way to his Authority, in the Diſpute with Achilles in the former Book, and could expect no leſs than that their Stay ſhould be con⯑cluded [16] on by Agamemnon as ſoon as Neſtor undertook that Cauſe. For this was all they imagin'd his Diſcourſe aim'd at; but we ſhall find it had a farther Deſign, from Dionyſius of Hali⯑carnaſſus. ‘"There are two things (ſays that excellent Critick) worthy of Admiration in the Speeches of Ulyſſes and Neſtor, which are the different Deſigns they ſpeak with, and the dif⯑ferent Applauſes they receive. Ulyſſes has the Acclamations of the Army, and Neſtor the Praiſe of Agamemnon. One may enquire the Reaſon, why he extols the latter prefera⯑bly to the former, when all that Neſtor alledges ſeems on⯑ly a Repetition of the ſame Arguments which Ulyſſes had given before him? It might be done in Encouragement to the old Man, in whom it might raiſe a Concern to find his Speech not follow'd with ſo general an Applauſe as the other's. But we are to refer the Speech of Neſtor to that Part of Oratory which ſeems only to confirm what another has ſaid, and yet ſuperinduces and carries a farther Point. Ulyſſes and Neſtor both compare the Greeks to Children for their unmanly Deſire to return home; they both reproach them with the Engagements and Vows they had paſt, and were now about to break; they both alledge the proſperous Signs and Omens receiv'd from Heaven. Notwithſtanding this, the End of their Orations is very different. Ulyſſes's Buſineſs was to detain the Graecians when they were upon the Point of flying; Neſtor finding that Work done to his Hands, deſign'd to draw them inſtantly to Battel. This was the utmoſt Agamemnon had aim'd at, which Neſtor's Artifice brings to paſs; for while they imagine by all he ſays that he is only perſuading them to ſtay, they find themſelves unawares put into Order of Battel, and led un⯑der their Princes to fight."’ Dion. Hal. [...], Part 1 and 2.
We may next take notice of ſome Particulars of this Speech: Where he ſays they loſe their time in empty Words, he hints at the Diſpute between Agamemnon and Achilles: Where he ſpeaks of thoſe who deſerted the Graecian Cauſe, he glances at Achilles in particular. When he repreſents Helen in Af⯑fliction and Tears, he removes the Odium from the Perſon in whoſe Cauſe they were to fight; and when he moves Aga⯑memnon [17] to adviſe with his Council, artfully prepares for a Reception of his own Advice by that modeſt way of propo⯑ſing it. As for the Advice itſelf, to divide the Army into Bodies, each of which ſhould be compos'd entirely of Men of the ſame Country; nothing could be better judg'd both in regard to the preſent Circumſtance, and with an Eye to the future carrying on of the War. For the firſt, its imme⯑diate Effect was to take the whole Army out of its Tumult, break whatever Cabals they might have form'd together by ſeparating them into a new Diviſion, and cauſe every ſingle Mutineer to come inſtantly under the View of his own pro⯑per Officer for Correction. For the ſecond, it was to be thought the Army would be much ſtrengthen'd by this Uni⯑on: Thoſe of different Nations who had different Aims, In⯑tereſts and Friendſhips, could not aſſiſt each other with ſo much Zeal or ſo well concur to the ſame End, as when Friends aided Friends, Kinſmen their Kinſmen, &c. when each Commander had the Glory of his own Nation in view, and a greater Emulation was excited between Body and Body; as not only warring for the Honour of Greece in general, but for that of every diſtinct State in particular.
XIX.
‘VERSE 440. How much thy Years excel.]’ Every one has obſerv'd how glorious an Elogium of Wiſdom Homer has here given, where Agamemnon ſo far prefers it to Valour, as to wiſh not for ten Ajax's or Achilles's but only for ten Neſtors. For the reſt of this Speech, Dionyſius has ſumm'd it up as follows. ‘"Agamemnon being now convinc'd the Greeks were offended at him on account of the De⯑parture of Achilles, pacifies them by a generous Confeſſion of his Fault, but then aſſerts the Character of a ſupreme Ruler, and with the Air of Command threatens the Diſo⯑bedient."’ I cannot conclude this Part of the Speeches without remarking how beautifully they riſe above one ano⯑ther, and how they more and more awaken the Spirit of War in the Graecians. In this laſt there is a wonderful Fire and Vivacity, when he prepares them for the glorious [18] Toils they were to undergo by a warm and lively Deſcription of them. The Repetition of the Words in that Part has a Beauty, which (as well as many others of the ſame kind) has been loſt by moſt Tranſlators.
I cannot but believe Milton had this Paſſage in his Eye in that of his ſixth Book.
XX.
‘VERSE 485. And Menelaus came unbid.]’ The Criticks have enter'd into a warm Diſpute, whether Menelaus was in the right or in the wrong, in coming uninvited: Some main⯑taining it the Part of an Impertinent or a Fool to intrude upon another Man's Table; and others inſiſting upon the Privilege a Brother or a Kinſman may claim in this Caſe. The Engliſh Reader had not been troubled with the Tranſla⯑tion of this Word [...], but that Plato and Plutarch have taken notice of the Paſſage. The Verſe following this in moſt Editions, [...], &c. being rejected as ſpu⯑rious by Demetrius Phalereus, is omitted here upon his Au⯑thority.
XXI.
‘VERSE 526. The dreadful Aegis, Jove's immortal Shield.]’ Homer does not expreſly call it a Shield in this Place, but he does in the fifth Iliad, where this Aegis is deſcrib'd with a Sublimity that is inexpreſſible. The Figure of the Gorgon's Head upon it is there ſpecify'd, which will juſtify the mention of the Serpents in the Tranſlation here: The Verſes are remar⯑kably ſonorous in the Original. The Image of the Goddeſs [19] of Battels blazing with her immortal Shield before the Army, inſpiring every Heroe, and aſſiſting to range the Troops, is agreeable to the bold Painting of our Author. And the En⯑couragement of a divine Power ſeem'd no more than was re⯑quiſite to change ſo totally the Diſpoſitions of the Graecians, as to make them now more ardent for the Combate than they were before deſirous of a Return. This finiſhes the Conqueſt of their Inclinations, in a manner at once wonder⯑fully Poetical, and correſpondent to the Moral which is every where ſpread through Homer, that nothing is entirely brought about but by the divine Aſſiſtance.
XXII.
‘VERSE 534. As on ſome Mountain, &c.]’ The Imagination of Homer was ſo vaſt and ſo lively, that whatſoever Objects preſented themſelves before him impreſs'd their Images ſo for⯑cibly, that he pour'd them forth in Compariſons equally ſimple and noble; without forgetting any Circumſtance which could inſtruct the Reader, and make him ſee thoſe Objects in the ſame ſtrong Light wherein he ſaw them himſelf. And in this one of the principal Beauties of Poetry conſiſts. Ho⯑mer, on the ſight of the March of this numerous Army, gives us five Similes in a Breath, but all entirely different. The firſt regards the Splendor of their Armour, As a Fire, &c. The ſecond the various Movements of ſo many thouſands be⯑fore they can range themſelves in Battel-Array, Like the Swans, &c. The third reſpects their Number, As the Leaves or Flowers, &c. The fourth the Ardour with which they run to the Combate, Like the Legions of Inſects, &c. And the fifth the Obedience and exact Diſcipline of the Troops, ran⯑ged without Confuſion under their Leaders, As Flocks under their Shepherds. This Fecundity and Variety can never be enough admired. Dacier.
XXIII.
‘VERSE 545. Or milk white Swans on Aſius' watry Plains.]’ Scaliger, who is ſeldom juſt to our Author, yet confeſſes theſe [20] Verſes to be pleniſſima Nectaris. But he is greatly miſtaken when he accuſes this Simile of Impropriety, on the Suppoſi⯑tion that a Number of Birds flying without Order are here compar'd to an Army ranged in Array of Battel. On the contrary, Homer in this expreſſes the Stir and Tumult the Troops were in, before they got into Order, running toge⯑ther from the Ships and Tents: [...]. But when they are plac'd in their Ranks, he compares them to the Flocks under their Shepherds. This Diſtinction will plainly appear from the Detail of the five Similes in the fore⯑going Note.
Virgil has imitated this with great Happineſs in his ſe⯑venth Aeneid.
Mr. Dryden in this Place has miſtaken Aſius for Aſia, which Virgil took care to diſtinguiſh by making the firſt Syllable of Aſius long, as of Aſia ſhort. Tho' (if we believe Madam Dacier) he was himſelf in an Error, both here and in the firſt Georgic.
For ſhe will not allow that [...] can be a Patronymic Adjec⯑tive, but the Genitive of a proper Name, [...], which be⯑ing turn'd into Ionic is [...], and by a Syncope makes [...]. This puts me in mind of another Criticiſm upon the 290th Verſe of this Book: 'Tis obſerv'd that Virgil uſes Inarime for Arime, as if he had read [...], inſtead of [...]. Scaliger ridicules this trivial Remark, and asks if it can be [21] imagin'd that Virgil was ignorant of the Name of a Place ſo near him as Baiae? It is indeed unlucky for good Writers, that Men who have Learning ſhould lay a Streſs upon ſuch Trifles, and that thoſe who have none ſhould think it Learning to do ſo.
XXIV.
‘VERSE 552. Or thick as Inſects play.]’ This Simile tranſla⯑ted literally runs thus; As the numerous Troops of Flies about a Shepherd's Cottage in the Spring, when the Milk moi⯑ſtens the Pails; ſuch Numbers of Greeks ſtood in the Field againſt the Trojans, deſiring their Deſtruction. The Lowneſs of this Image in Compariſon with thoſe which precede it, will naturally ſhock a modern Critick, and would ſcarce be forgiven in a Poet of theſe Times. The utmoſt a Tranſlator can do is to heighten the Expreſſion, ſo as to render the Diſ⯑parity leſs obſervable: which is endeavour'd here, and in other Places. If this be done ſucceſsfully the Reader is ſo far from being offended at a low Idea, that it raiſes his Sur⯑prize to find it grown great in the Poet's Hands, of which we have frequent Inſtances in Virgil's Georgicks. Here fol⯑lows another of the ſame kind, in the Simile of Agamemnon to a Bull juſt after he has been compar'd to Jove, Mars, and Neptune. This, Euſtathius tells us, was blam'd by ſome Criticks, and Mr. Hobbes has left it out in his Tranſlation. The Liberty has been taken here to place the humbler Si⯑mile firſt, reſerving the noble one as a more magnificent Cloſe of the Deſcription: The bare turning the Sentence re⯑moves the Objection. Milton who was a cloſe Imitator of our Author, has often copy'd him in theſe humble Compa⯑riſons. He has not ſcrupled to inſert one in the midſt of that pompous Deſcription of the Rout of the Rebel-Angels in the ſixth Book, where the Son of God in all his dreadful Majeſty is repreſented pouring his Vengeance upon them:
XXV.
[22]‘VERSE 568. Great as the Gods.]’ Homer here deſcribes the Figure and Port of Agamemnon with all imaginable Grandeur, in making him appear cloath'd with the Majeſty of the greateſt of the Gods; and when Plutarch (in his ſecond Ora⯑tion of the Fortune of Alexander) blamed the Compariſon of a Man to three Deities at once, that Cenſure was not paſs'd upon Homer as a Poet, but by Plutarch as a Prieſt. This Character of Majeſty in which Agamemnon excels all the other Heroes, is preſerv'd in the different Views of him throughout the Iliad. It is thus he appears on his Ship in the Catalogue, thus he ſhines in the Eyes of Priam in the third Book, thus again in the beginning of the thirteenth, and ſo in the reſt.
XXVI.
‘VERSE 572. Say Virgins.]’ It is hard to conceive any Ad⯑dreſs more ſolemn, any Opening to a Subject more noble and magnificent, than this Invocation of Homer before his Cata⯑logue. That Omnipreſence he gives to the Muſes, their Poſt in the higheſt Heaven, their comprehenſive Survey thro' the whole Extent of the Creation, are Circumſtances greatly imagined. Nor is any thing more perfectly fine or exqui⯑ſitely moral, than the Oppoſition of the extenſive Know⯑ledge of the Divinities on the one ſide, to the Blindneſs and Ignorance of Mankind on the other. The Greatneſs and Importance of his Subject is highly rais'd by his exalted manner of declaring the Difficulty of it, Not tho' my Lungs were Braſs, &c. and by the Air he gives as if what follows were immediately inſpir'd, and no leſs than the joint Labour of all the Muſes.
XXVII.
‘VERSE 586. The hardy Warriors.]’ The Catalogue begins in this Place, which I forbear to treat of at preſent: only I muſt acknowledge here that the Tranſlation has not been ex⯑actly punctual to the Order in which Homer places his Towns. [23] However it has not treſpaſs'd againſt Geography; the Tranſ⯑poſitions I mention being no other than ſuch minute ones, as Strabo confeſſes the Author himſelf is not free from: [...]. Lib. 8. There is not to my Re⯑membrance any Place throughout this Catalogue omitted; a Liberty which Mr. Dryden has made no difficulty to take and to confeſs, in his Virgil. But a more ſcrupulous Care was owing to Homer, on account of that wonderful Exactneſs and unequal'd Diligence, which he has particularly ſhewn in this Part of his Work.
XXVIII.
‘VERSE 649. Down their broad Shoulders, &c.]’ The Greek has it [...], à tergo comantes. It was the Cuſtom of theſe People to ſhave the fore-part of their Heads, which they did that their Enemies might not take the Advan⯑tage of ſeizing them by the Hair: the hinder Part they let grow, as a valiant Race that would never turn their Backs. Their manner of fighting was hand to hand, without quitting their Javelins (in the way of our Pike-men.) Plutarch tells us this in the Life of Theſeus, and cites to ſtrengthen the Authority of Homer, ſome Verſes of Archilochus to the ſame Effect. Eobanus Heſſus who tranſlated Homer into Latine Verſe was therefore miſtaken in his Verſion of this Paſſage.
XXIX.
‘VERSE 711. Eager and loud from Man to Man he flies.]’ The Figure Menelaus makes in this Place is remarkably di⯑ſtinguiſh'd from the reſt, and ſufficient to ſhew his Concern in the War was perſonal, while the others acted only for In⯑tereſt or Glory in general. No Leader in all the Liſt is re⯑preſented thus eager and paſſionate; he is louder than them [24] all in his Exhortations; more active in running among the Troops; and inſpirited with the Thoughts of Revenge, which he ſtill encreaſes with the ſecret Imagination of Helen's Repentance. This Behaviour is finely imagined.
The Epithet [...] which is apply'd in this and other Places to Menelaus, and which literally ſignifies loud-voiced, is made by the Commentators to mean valiant, and tranſlated bello ſtrenuus. The reaſon given by Euſtathius is, that a loud Voice is a Mark of Strength, the uſual Effect of Fear being to cut ſhort the Reſpiration. I own this ſeems to be forc'd, and rather believe it was one of thoſe kind of Sir-Names given from ſome diſtinguiſhing Quality of the Perſon (as that of a loud Voice might belong to Menelaus) which Monſ. Boileau mentions in his ninth Reflection upon Longinus; in the ſame manner as ſome of our Kings were called Edward Long-ſhanks, William Rufus, &c. But however it be, the Epi⯑thet taken in the literal Senſe has a Beauty in this Verſe from the Circumſtance Menelaus is deſcribed in, which determined the Tranſlator to uſe it.
XXX.
‘VERSE 746. New to all the Dangers of the Main.]’ The Arcadians being an Inland People were unskill'd in Navigation, for which reaſon Agamemnon furniſh'd them with Shipping. From hence, and from the laſt Line of the Deſcription of the Sceptre, where he is ſaid to preſide over many Iſlands, Thucydides takes occaſion to obſerve that the Power of Aga⯑memnon was ſuperior to the reſt of the Princes of Greece, on account of his Naval Forces, which had render'd him Maſter of the Sea. Thucyd. lib. 1.
XXXI.
‘VERSE 815. Three Ships with Nireus.]’ This Leader is no where mention'd but in theſe Lines, and is an Exception to the Obſervation of Macrobius that all the Perſons of the Ca⯑talogue make their Appearance afterwards in the Poem. Homer himſelf gives us the reaſon, becauſe Nireus had but a [25] ſmall Share of Worth and Valour; his Quality only gave him a Privilege to be nam'd among Men. The Poet has cauſed him to be remember'd no leſs than Achilles or Ulyſſes, but yet in no better manner than he deſerv'd, whoſe only Qualification was his Beauty: 'Tis by a bare Repeti⯑tion of his Name three times, which juſt leaves ſome Im⯑preſſion of him on the Mind of the Reader. Many others, of as trivial Memory as Nireus, have been preſerv'd by Poets from Oblivion; but few Poets have ever done this Favour to Want of Merit with ſo much Judgment. Demetrius Phalereus [...], Sect. 61. takes notice of this beautiful Repeti⯑tion, which in a juſt Deference to ſo delicate a Critick is here preſerv'd in the Tranſlation.
XXXII.
‘VERSE 871. The Grace and Glory of the beauteous Kind.]’ He gives Alceſtis this Elogy of the Glory of her Sex, for her conjugal Piety, who dy'd to preſerve the Life of her Huſ⯑band Admetus. Euripides has a Tragedy on this Subject, which abounds in the moſt maſterly Strokes of Tenderneſs: In particular the firſt Act, which contains the Deſcription of her Preparation for Death; and her Behaviour in it can never be enough admired.
XXXIII.
‘VERSE 906. In twenty Ships the bold Perrhaebians came.]’ I cannot tell whether it be worth obſerving that, except Ogilby, we have not met with one Tranſlator who has exact⯑ly preſerv'd the Number of the Ships. Chapman puts eigh⯑teen under Eumelus inſtead of eleven. Hobbes but twenty un⯑der Aſcalaphus and Ialmen inſtead of thirty, and but thirty under Menelaus inſtead of ſixty. Valterie (the former French Tranſlator) has given Agapenor forty for ſixty, and Neſtor forty for ninety. Madam Dacier gives Neſtor but eighty. I muſt confeſs this Tranſlation not to have been quite ſo exact as Ogilby's, having cut off one from the Number of Eumelus's Ships, and two from thoſe of Guneus: Eleven and two and [26] twenty would ſound but oddly in Engliſh Verſe, and a Poem contracts a Littleneſs by inſiſting on ſuch trivial Niceties.
XXXIV.
‘VERSE 925. Or rein'd the nobleſt Steeds.]’ This coupling together the Men and Horſes ſeems odd enough, but Homer every where treats theſe noble Animals with remarkable Re⯑gard. We need not wonder at this Enquiry, which were the beſt Horſes? from him, who makes his Horſes of heavenly Extraction as well as his Heroes, who makes his Warriours addreſs them with Speeches and excite them by all thoſe Mo⯑tives which affect a human Breaſt, who deſcribes them ſhed⯑ing Tears of Sorrow, and even capable of Voice and Pro⯑phecy: In moſt of which Points Virgil has not ſcrupled to imitate him.
XXXV.
‘VERSE 939. His Troops, &c.]’ The Image in theſe Lines of the Amuſements of the Myrmidons, while Achilles detain'd them from the Fight, has an exquiſite Propriety in it. Tho' they are not in Action, their very Diverſions are Military, and a kind of Exerciſe of Arms. The cover'd Chariot and feeding Horſes, make a natural Part of the Picture; and no⯑thing is finer than the manly Concern of the Captains, who as they are ſuppos'd more ſenſible of Glory than the Soldiers, take no ſhare in their Diverſions, but wander ſorrowfully round the Camp, and lament their being kept from the Battel. This difference betwixt the Soldiers and the Leaders (as Da⯑cier obſerves) is a Decorum of the higheſt Beauty. Milton has admirably imitated this in the Deſcription he gives in his ſecond Book of the Diverſions of the Angels during the Ab⯑ſence of Lucifer.
[27] But how nobly and judiciouſly has he raiſed the Image, in proportion to the Nature of thoſe more exalted Beings, in that which follows.
XXXVI.
‘VERSE 950. As when angry Jove.]’ The Compariſon pre⯑ceding this, of a Fire which runs thro' the Corn and blazes to Heaven, had expreſt at once the dazling of their Arms and the Swiftneſs of their March. After which Homer ha⯑ving mention'd the Sound of their Feet, ſuperadds another Simile, which comprehends both the Ideas of the Brightneſs and the Noiſe: for here (ſays Euſtathius) the Earth appears to burn and groan at the ſame time. Indeed the firſt of theſe Similes is ſo full and ſo noble, that it ſcarce ſeem'd poſſible to be exceeded by any Image drawn from Nature. But Ho⯑mer to raiſe it yet higher, has gone into the Marvellous, gi⯑ven a prodigious and ſupernatural Proſpect, and brought down Jupiter himſelf, array'd in all his Terrors, to diſcharge his Lightnings and Thunders on Typhoeus. The Poet breaks out into this Deſcription with an Air of Enthuſiaſm, which greatly heightens the Image in general, while it ſeems to tranſport him beyond the Limits of an exact Compariſon. And this daring manner is particular to our Author above all the Ancients, and to Milton above all the Moderns.
XXXVII.
‘VERSE 1012. From Practius' Stream, Percote's Paſture Lands.]’ Homer does not expreſly mention Practius as a Ri⯑ver, but Strabo, lib. 13. tells us it is to be underſtood ſo in this Paſſage. The Appellative of Paſture Lands to Percote is juſtify'd in the 15th Iliad, ℣. 547. where Hicetaon is ſaid to feed his Oxen in that Place.
XXXVIII.
[28]‘VERSE 1032. Axius, that ſwells with all his neighb'ring Rills.]’ According to the common Reading this Verſe ſhould be tranſlated, Axius that diffuſes his beautiful Waters over the Land. But we are aſſured by Strabo that Axius was a muddy River, and that the Ancients underſtood it thus, Axius that receives into it ſeveral beautiful Rivers. The Criticiſm lies in the laſt word of the Verſe, [...], which Strabo reads [...], and interprets of the River Aea, whoſe Waters were pour'd into Axius. However Homer deſcribes this River agreeable to the vulgar reading in Il. 21. ℣. 158. [...]. This Verſion takes in both.
OBSERVATIONS on the CATALOGUE.
IF we look upon this Piece with an Eye to ancient Learn⯑ing, it may be obſerv'd that however fabulous the other Parts of Homer's Poem may be according to the Nature of Epic Poetry, this Account of the People, Princes, and Coun⯑tries is purely Hiſtorical, founded on the real Tranſactions of thoſe Times, and by far the moſt valuable Piece of Hiſto⯑ry and Geography left us concerning the State of Greece in that early Period. Greece was then divided into ſeveral Dy⯑naſties, which our Author has enumerated under their re⯑ſpective Princes; and his Diviſion was look'd upon ſo exact, that we are told of many Controverſies concerning the Boun⯑daries of Graecian Cities which have been decided upon the Authority of this Piece. Euſtathius has collected together the following Inſtances. The City of Calydon was adjudg'd to the Aetolians notwithſtanding the Pretenſions of Aeolia, becauſe Homer had rank'd it among the Towns belonging to the former. Seſtos was given to thoſe of Abydos, upon the Plea that he had ſaid, the Abydonians were Poſſeſſors of Seſtos, Abydos, and Arisbe. When the Mileſians and People of Priene diſputed their Claim to Mycale, a Verſe of Homer [29] carry'd it in favour of the Mileſians. And the Athenians were put in Poſſeſſion of Salamis by another which was cited by Solon, or (as ſome think) interpolated by him for that Purpoſe. Nay in ſo high Eſtimation has this Catalogue been held, that (as Porphyry has written) there have been Laws in ſome Nations for the Youth to learn it by heart, and par⯑ticularly Cerdias (whom Cuperus de Apoth. Homer. takes to be Cercydas a Law-giver of the Megalopolitans) made it one to his Countrymen.
But if we conſider the Catalogue purely as poetical, it will not want its Beauties in that Light. Rapin who was none of the moſt ſuperſtitious Admirers of our Author, reckons it among thoſe Parts which had particularly charm'd him. We may obſerve firſt, what an Air of Probability is ſpread over the whole Poem by the particularizing of every Nation and People concern'd in this War. Secondly, what an entertain⯑ing Scene he preſents to us, of ſo many Countries drawn in their livelieſt and moſt natural Colours, while we wander along with him amidſt a beautiful Variety of Towns, Ha⯑vens, Foreſts, Vineyards, Groves, Mountains, and Rivers, and are perpetually amus'd with his Obſervations on the dif⯑ferent Soils, Products, Situations, or Proſpects. Thirdly, what a noble Review he paſſes before us of ſo mighty an Ar⯑my, drawn out in order Troop by Troop; which had the Number only been told in the Groſs, had never fill'd the Reader with ſo great a Notion of the Importance of the Action. Fourthly, the Deſcription of the differing Arms and manner of fighting of the Soldiers, and the various Attitudes he had given to the Commanders: Of theſe Leaders, the greateſt Part are either the immediate Sons of Gods, or the Deſcendants of Gods; and how great an Idea muſt we have of a War, to the waging of which ſo many Demi-Gods and Heroes are aſſembled? Fifthly, the ſeveral artful Compli⯑ments he paid by this means to his own Country in general, and many of his Contemporaries in particular, by a Celebra⯑tion of the Genealogies, ancient Seats, and Dominions of the great Men of his Time. Sixthly, the agreeable Mixture of Narrations from Paſſages of Hiſtory or Fables, with which he amuſes and relieves us at proper Intervals. And laſtly, the [30] admirable Judgment wherewith he introduces this whole Ca⯑talogue, juſt at a Time when the Poſture of Affairs in the Army render'd ſuch a Review of abſolute Neceſſity to the Greeks; and in a Pauſe of Action, while each was refreſhing himſelf to prepare for the enſuing Battels.
Macrobius in his Saturnalia, lib. 5. cap. 15. has given us a judicious Piece of Criticiſm, in the Compariſon betwixt the Catalogues of Homer and of Virgil, in which he juſtly allows the Preference to our Author for the following Reaſons. Ho⯑mer (ſays he) has begun his Deſcription from the moſt no⯑ted Promontory of Greece (he means that of Aulis, where was the narroweſt Paſſage to Euboea.) From thence with a regular Progreſs he deſcribes either the maritime or mediter⯑ranean Towns as their Situations are contiguous; he never paſ⯑ſes with ſudden Leaps from Place to Place, omitting thoſe which lie between; but proceeding like a Traveller in the way he has begun, conſtantly returns to the Place from whence he digreſs'd, 'till he finiſhes the whole Circle he deſign'd. Vir⯑gil on the contrary has obſerv'd no Order in the Regions de⯑ſcrib'd in his Catalogue, l. 10. but is perpetually breaking from the Courſe of the Country in a looſe and deſultory manner. You have Cluſium and Coſae at the beginning, next Populonia and Ilva, then Piſae, which lie at a vaſt diſtance in Etruria; and immediately after Cerete, Pyrgi, and Graviſcae, Places adjacent to Rome: From hence he is ſnatch'd to Li⯑guria, then to Mantua. The ſame Negligence is obſervable in his Enumeration of the Aids that follow'd Turnus in l. 7. Macrobius next remarks, that whatever Perſons are nam'd by Homer in his Catalogue, are afterwards introduc'd in his Bat⯑tels, and whenever any others are kill'd, he mentions only a Multitude in general. Whereas Virgil (he continues) has ſpar'd himſelf the Labour of that Exactneſs; For not only ſeveral whom he mentions in the Liſt are never heard of in the War, but others make a Figure in the War of whom we had no notice in the Liſt. For Example, he ſpecifies a thouſand Men under Maſſicus who came from Cluſium, l. 10. ℣. 167. Turnus ſoon afterwards is in the Ship which had carry'd King Oſinius from the ſame Place, l. 10. ℣. 655. This Oſinius was never nam'd before, nor is it probable a [31] King ſhould ſerve under Maſſicus. Nor indeed does either Maſſicus or Oſinius ever make their Appearance in the Bat⯑tels—He proceeds to inſtance ſeveral others, who tho' cele⯑brated for Heroes in the Catalogue, have no farther notice taken of them throughout the Poem. In the third Place he animadverts upon the Confuſion of the ſame Names in Virgil: As where Corinaeus in the ninth Book is kill'd by Aſylas, ℣. 571. and Corinaeus in the twelfth kills Ebuſus, ℣. 298. Numa is ſlain by Niſus, l. 9. ℣. 554. and Aeneas is after⯑wards in purſuit of Numa, l. 10. ℣. 562. Aeneas kills Camertes in the tenth Book, ℣. 562. and Juturna aſſumes his Shape in the twelfth, ℣. 224. He obſerves the ſame Obſcurity in his Patronymics. There is Palinurus Iaſides, and Iapix Ia⯑ſides, Hippocoon Hyrtacides, and Aſylas Hyrtacides. On the contrary the Caution of Homer is remarkable, who having two of the Name of Ajax is conſtantly careful to diſtinguiſh them by Oïleus or Telamonius, the leſſer or the greater Ajax.
I know nothing to be alledg'd in Defence of Virgil, in anſwer to this Author, but the common Excuſe that his Aeneis was left unfiniſh'd. And upon the whole, theſe are ſuch tri⯑vial Slips as great Wits may paſs over, and little Criticks re⯑joice at.
But Macrobius has another Remark which one may accuſe of evident Partiality on the ſide of Homer. He blames Vir⯑gil for having vary'd the Expreſſion in his Catalogue to avoid the Repetition of the ſame Words, and prefers the bare and unadorn'd Reiterations of Homer; who begins almoſt every Article the ſame way, and ends perpetually, [...], &c. Perhaps the beſt reaſon to be given for this, had been the artleſs Manner of the firſt Times, when ſuch Re⯑petitions were not thought ungraceful. This may appear from ſeveral of the like Nature in the Scripture; as in the twenty ſixth Chapter of Numbers, where the Tribes of Iſrael are enumerated in the Plains of Moab, and each Diviſion re⯑counted in the ſame Words. So in the ſeventh Chapter of the Revelations: Of the Tribe of Gad were ſealed twelve thouſand, &c. But the Words of Macrobius are Has copias fortaſſe putat aliquis Divinae illi ſimplicitati praeferendas. Sed neſcio quo modo Ho⯑merum [32] repetitio illa unicè decet, & eſt genio antiqui Poetae digna. This is exactly in the Spirit, and almoſt in the Cant of a true modern Critick. The Simplicitas, the Neſcio quo modo, the Genio antiqui Poetae digna, are excellent general Phraſes for thoſe who have no Reaſons. Simplicity is our Word of Diſguiſe for a ſhameful unpoetical Neglect of Ex⯑preſſion: The Term of the Je ne ſçay quoy is the very Sup⯑port of all ignorant Pretenders to Delicacy; and to lift up our Eyes, and talk of the Genius of an Ancient, is at once the cheapeſt way of ſhewing our own Taſte, and the ſhorteſt way of criticizing the Wit of others our Contemporaries.
One may add to the foregoing Compariſon of theſe two Authors, ſome Reaſons for the Length of Homer's, and the Shortneſs of Virgil's Catalogues. As, that Homer might have a Deſign to ſettle the Geography of his Country, there be⯑ing no Deſcription of Greece before his Days; which was not the Caſe with Virgil. Homer's Concern was to compliment Greece at a time when it was divided into many diſtinct States, each of which might expect a Place in his Catalogue: But when all Italy was ſwallow'd up in the ſole Dominion of Rome, Virgil had only Rome to celebrate. Homer had a numerous Army, and was to deſcribe an important War with great and various Events; whereas Virgil's Sphere was much more con⯑fined. The Ships of the Greeks are computed at about one thouſand two hundred, thoſe of Aeneas and his Aids but at two and forty; and as the Time of the Action of both Poems is the ſame, we may ſuppoſe the Built of their Ships, and the Number of Men they contain'd, to be much alike. So that if the Army of Homer amounts to about a hundred thou⯑ſand Men, that of Virgil cannot be above four thouſand. If any one be farther curious to know upon what this Compu⯑tation is founded, he may ſee it in the following Paſſage of Thucidydes, lib. 1. ‘"Homer's Fleet (ſays he) conſiſted of one thouſand two hundred Veſſels: thoſe of the Boeotians carry'd one hundred and twenty Men in each, and thoſe of Philoctetes fifty. By theſe I ſuppoſe Homer expreſt the largeſt and the ſmalleſt Size of Ships, and therefore men⯑tions no other ſort. But he tells us of thoſe who ſail'd [33] with Philoctetes, that they ſerv'd both as Mariners and Sol⯑diers, in ſaying the Rowers were all of them Archers. From hence the whole Number will be ſeen, if we eſtimate the Ships at a Medium between the greateſt and the leaſt."’ That is to ſay, at eighty five Men to each Veſſel (which is the Mean between fifty and a hundred and twenty) the Total comes to a hundred and two thouſand Men. Plutarch was therefore in a Miſtake when he computed the Men at a hundred and twenty thouſand, which proceeded from his ſuppoſing a hun⯑dred and twenty in every Ship; the contrary to which ap⯑pears from the above-mention'd Ships of Philoctetes, as well as from thoſe of Achilles, which are ſaid to carry but fifty Men a-piece, in the ſixteenth Iliad, ℣. 167.
Beſides Virgil's Imitation of this Catalogue, there has ſcarce been any Epic Writer but has copy'd after it; which is at leaſt a Proof how beautiful this Part has been ever eſteem'd by the fineſt Genius's in all Ages. The Catalogues in the ancient Poets are generally known, only I muſt take notice that the Phocian and Boeotian Towns in the fourth Thebaid of Sta⯑tius are tranſlated from hence. Of the Moderns, thoſe which moſt excel, owe their Beauty to the Imitation of ſome ſingle Particular only of Homer. Thus the chief Grace of Taſſo's Catalogue conſiſts in the Deſcription of the Heroes, without any thing remarkable on the ſide of the Countries: Of the Pieces of Story he has interwoven, that of Tancred's Amour to Clo⯑rinda is ill placed, and evidently too long for the reſt. Spen⯑cer's Enumeration of the Britiſh and Iriſh Rivers in the ele⯑venth Canto of his fourth Book, is one of the nobleſt in the World; if we conſider his Subject was more confined, and can excuſe his not obſerving the Order or Courſe of the Country; but his Variety of Deſcription, and Fruitfulneſs of Imagination are no where more admirable than in that Part. Milton's Liſt of the fallen Angels in his firſt Book is an exact Imitation of Homer, as far as regards the Digreſſions of Hiſtory and An⯑tiquities, and his manner of inſerting them: In all elſe I be⯑lieve it muſt be allow'd inferior. And indeed what Macro⯑bius has ſaid to caſt Virgil below Homer, will fall much more ſtrongly upon all the reſt.
[34] I had ſome cauſe to fear that this Catalogue which contri⯑buted ſo much to the Succeſs of the Author, ſhould ruin that of the Tranſlator. A meer heap of proper Names tho' but for a few Lines together, could afford little Entertainment to an Engliſh Reader, who probably could not be appriz'd ei⯑ther of the Neceſſity or Beauty of this Part of the Poem. There were but two things to be done to give it a chance to pleaſe him; to render the Verſification very flowing and mu⯑ſical, and to make the whole appear as much a Landſcape or Piece of Painting as poſſible. For both of theſe I had the Example of Homer in general; and Virgil, who found the Neceſſity in another Age to give more into Deſcription, ſeem'd to authoriſe the latter in particular. Dionyſius of Ha⯑licarnaſſus in his Diſcourſe of the Structure and Diſpoſition of Words, profeſſes to admire nothing more than that har⯑monious Exactneſs with which Homer has placed theſe Words, and ſoften'd the Syllables into each other, ſo as to derive Muſick from a Croud of Names which have in them⯑ſelves no Beauty or Dignity. I would flatter my ſelf that I have practis'd this not unſucceſsfully in our Language, which is more ſuſceptible of all the Variety and Power of Numbers than any of the modern, and ſecond to none but the Greek and Roman. For the latter Point, I have ventured to open the Proſpect a little, by the addition of a few Epithets or ſhort Hints of Deſcription to ſome of the Places mention'd; tho' ſeldom exceeding the Compaſs of half a Verſe (the Space to which my Author himſelf generally confines theſe Pictures in Miniature.) But this has never been done without the beſt Authorities from the Ancients, which may be ſeen under the reſpective Names in the Geographical Table following.
The Table itſelf I thought but neceſſary to annex to the Map, as my Warrant for the Situations aſſign'd in it to ſeve⯑ral of the Towns. For in whatever Maps I have ſeen to this Purpoſe, many of the Places are omitted, or elſe ſet down at random. Sophianus and Gerbelius have labour'd to ſettle the Geography of old Greece, many of whoſe Miſtakes were rec⯑tify'd by Laurenbergius. Theſe however deſerv'd a greater Commendation than thoſe who ſucceeded them; and parti⯑cularly [35] Sanſon's Map prefix'd to Du Pin's Bibliotheque Hiſto⯑rique is miſerably defective both in Omiſſions and falſe Pla⯑cings; which I am obliged to mention, as it pretends to be deſign'd expreſly for this Catalogue of Homer. I am per⯑ſuaded the greater Part of my Readers will have no Curioſity this way, however they may allow me the Endeavour of gra⯑tifying thoſe few who have: The reſt are at liberty to paſs the two or three following Leaves unread.
A GEOGRAPHICAL TABLE of the Towns,&c. in HOMER's Catalogue of Greece, with the Authorities for their Situation, as placed in this Map.
[36]- BOEOTIA, under five Captains, Peneleus, &c. containing,
- AULIS, a Haven on the Euboean Sea oppoſite to Chalcis, where the Paſ⯑ſage to Euboea is narroweſt. Strabo lib. 9.
- Eteon, Homer deſcribes it a Hilly Country, and Statius after him—denſamque jugis E⯑teonen iniquis. Theb. 7.
- Hyrie, a Town and Lake of the ſame Name, belonging to the Territory of Tana⯑gra or Graea. Strab. l. 9.
- Schaenus, it lay in the Road between Thebes and Anthedon, 50 Stadia from Thebes. Strab. ibid.
- Scolos, a Town under Mount Cythaeron. Ibid.
- Theſpia, near Haliartus under Mount Heli⯑con. Pauſ. Boeot. near the Corinthian Bay. Strab. l. 9.
- Graea, the ſame with Tanagra, 30 Stadia from Aulis, on the Euboean Sea; by this Place the River Aſopus falls into that Sea. Ibid.
- Mycaleſſus, between Thebes and Chalcis. Pauſ. Boeot. near Tanagra or Graea. Strab. l. 9. famous for its Pine-trees.—Pinige⯑ris Mycaleſſus in agris. Statius, l. 7.
- Harma, cloſe by Mycaleſſus. Strab. l. 9. This Town as well as the former lay near the Road from Thebes to Chalcis. Pauſ. Boeot. It was here that Amphiaraus was ſwallow'd by the Earth in his Chariot, from whence it re⯑ceiv'd its Name. Strab. ibid.
- Ileſion, it was ſituate in the Fens near He⯑leon and Hyle, not far from Tanagra. Theſe three Places took their Name from being ſo ſcated ( [...], Palus.) Strab. l. 9.
- Erythrae, in the Confines of Attica near Plataea. Thucyd. l. 3.—dites Pecorum comi⯑tantur Erythroe. Stat. Theb. 7.
- Peteon, in the way from Thebes to Anthe⯑don. Strab. l. 9.
- Ocalea, in the mid-way betwixt Haliartus and Alalcomenes. Ibid.
- Medeon, near Oncheſtus. Ibid.
- Copae, a Town on the Lake Copais, by the River Cephiſus, next Orchomenus. Ibid.
- Eutreſis, a ſmall Town of the Theſpians near Thisbe. Ibid.
- Thisbe, under Mount Helicon. Pauſ. Boeot.
- Coronea, ſeated on the Cephiſus where it falls into the Lake Copais. Strab. l. 9.
- Haliartus, on the ſame Lake, Strab. ibid. bordering on Coronea and Plataea. Pauſ. Boeot.
- Plataea, between Cithaeron and Thebes, di⯑vided from the latter by the River Aſopus. Strab. l. 9 Virideſque Plataeas. Stat. Th. 7.
- Gliſſa, in the Territory of Thebes, abound⯑ing with Vines. Baccho Gliſanta colentes. Stat. Th. 7.
- Thebe, ſituate between the Rivers Iſmenus and Aſopus. Strab. l. 9.
- Oncheſtus, on the Lake Copais. The Grove conſecrated to Neptune in this Place, and ce⯑lebrated by Homer, together with a Temple and Statue of that God, were ſhewn in the Time of Pauſanias. Vide Boeot.
- Arne, ſeated on the ſame Lake, famous for Vines. Strab. Hom.
- Midea, on the ſame Lake. Ibid.
- Niſſa, or Nyſa (apud Statium) or accord⯑ing to Strabo l. 9. Iſa; near Anthedon.
- Anthedon, a City on the Sea-ſide oppoſite to Euboea, the utmoſt on the Shore towards Locris. Strab. l. 9. Teque ultima tractu An⯑thedon. Statius, l. 7.
- Aſpledon, 20 Stadia from Orchomenus. Strab. l. 9.
- Orchomenus, and the Plains about it, being the moſt ſpacious of all in Boeotia. (Plu⯑tarch in vit. Syllae, circa medium.)
- Homer diſtinguiſhes theſe two laſt from the reſt of Boeotia. They were commanded by Aſcalaphus and Ialmen.
- PHOCIS, under Schedius and Epiſtropus, containing,
- Cypariſſus, the ſame with Anticyrrha accor⯑ding to Pauſanias, on the Bay of Corinth.
- Pytho, adjoining to Parnaſſus: ſome think it the ſame with Delphi. Pauſan. Phocic.
- Criſſa, a Sea-Town on the Bay of Corinth near Cyrrha. Strab. l. 9.
- Daulis, upon the Cephiſus at the Foot of Parnaſſus. Ibid.
- Panopea, upon the ſame River, adjoining to Orchomenia, juſt by Hyampolis or Anemoria. Ibid.
- Hyampolis, Anemoria, both the ſame according to Strabo. Ibid. confining upon Locris. Pauſ. Phoc.
- Lilaea, at the Head of the River Cephiſus, juſt on the Edge of Phocis. Ibid.—propel⯑lentemque Lilaeam Cephiſſi glaciale caput. Sta⯑tius, l. 7.
- [37]LOCRIS, under Ajax Oïleus,, containing,
- Cynns, a maritime Town towards Euboea. Strab. l. 9.
- Opus, a Locrian City, 15 Stadia from the Sea, adjacent to Panopea in Phocis. Ibid.
- Calliarus.
- Beſſa, ſo called from being cover'd with Shrubs. Strab. l. 9.
- Scarphe ſeated between Thronium and Ther⯑mopylae, ten Stadia from the Sea. Ibid.
- Augiae.
- Tarphe.
- Thronius, on the Melian Bay. Strab. l. 9.
- Boagrius, a River that paſſes by Thronius, and runs into the Bay of O Eta, between Cy⯑nus and Scarphe. Ibid.
- All theſe oppoſite to the Iſle of Euboea.
- EUBOEA, under Elephenor, containing,
- Chalcis, the City neareſt to the Continent of Greece, juſt oppoſite to Aulis in Boeotia. Strab. l. 10.
- Eretria, between Chalcis and Gereſtus. Ibid.
- Hiſtioea, a Town with Vineyards over a⯑gainſt Theſſaly. Herod. l. 7.
- Cerinthus, on the Sea-ſhore. Hom. near the River Budorus. Strab. l. 10.
- Dios, ſeated high. Hom. near Hiſtioea. Strab. ibid.
- Caryſtos, a City at the Foot of the Moun⯑tain Ocha. Strab. ibid. between Eretria and Gereſtus. Ptolom. l. 3.
- Styra, a Town near Caryſtos. Strab. ibid.
- ATHENS, under Meneſtheus.
- The Iſle of SALAMIS, under Ajax Telamon.
- PELOPONNESUS, the Eaſt Part divided into Argia and Mycenae, under Agamemnon, contains,
- Argos, 40 Stades from the Sea. Pauſ. Corin.
- Tyrinthe, between Argos and Epidaurus. Ibid.
- Aſinen, Hermion, Traezene, Three Cities lying in this Or⯑der on the Bay of Hermione. Strab. l. 8. Pauſ. Corinth. Trae⯑zene was ſeated high, and Aſine a Rocky Coaſt.—Alta (que) Trae⯑zene. Ovid. Faſt. 2.—Quos A⯑ſinae cautes. Lucan. l. 8.
- Eionae was on the Sea-ſide, for Strabo tells us the People of Mycenae made it a Station for their Ships. Lib. 8.
- Epidaurus, a Town and little Iſland adjoin⯑ing in the inner Part of the Saronic Bay. Strab. l. 8. It was fruitful in Vines in Homer's Time.
- The Iſle of Aegina, over againſt Epidaurus.
- Maſeta belongs to the Argolic Shore accord⯑ing to Strabo, who obſerves that Homer names it not in the exact Order, placing it with Aegina. Strab. l. 8.
- MYCENAE, between Cleone and Argos. Str. Pauſan.
- Corinth, near the Iſthmus.
- Cleone, between Argos and Corinth. Pauſ. Corinth.
- Ornia, on the Borders of Sicyonia. Ibid.
- Arethyria, the ſame with Phliaſia, at the Source of the Achaian Aſopus. Strab. l. 8.
- Sicyon, (anciently the Kingdom of Adraſtus) betwixt Corinth and Achaia. Pauſ. Corinth.
- Hypereſia, the ſame with Aegira, ſays Pau⯑ſan. Achaic. ſeated betwixt Pellene and Helice. Strab. l. 8. oppoſite to Parnaſſus. Polyb. l. 4.
- Gonoeſſa, Homer deſcribes it ſituate very high, and Seneca Troas. Cares nunquam Go⯑noeſſa vento.
- Pellene, bordering on Sicyon and Pheneus, 60 Stadia from the Sea. Pauſ. Arcad. cele⯑brated anciently for its Wool. Strab. l. 8. Jul. Poll.
- Aegium, Helice, Next Sicyon lies Pellene, &c. then Helice, and next to Helice, Ae⯑gium. Strab. l. 8. Helice lies on the Sea-ſide, 40 Stadia from Ae⯑gium. Pauſ. Ach.
- The Weſt Part of PELOPONNESUS, divided into Laconia, Meſ⯑ſenia, Arcadia, and Elis.
- LACONIA, under Menelaus, containing,
- Sparta, the capital City, on the River Eu⯑rotas.
- Phares, on the Bay of Meſſenia. Strab. l. 8.
- Meſſa, Strabo thinks this a Contraction of Meſſena, and Statius in his Imitation of this Catalogue, lib. 4. calls it ſo.
- Bryſia, under Mount Taygetus. Pauſ. Lacon.
- Augiae, the ſame with Aegiae in the Opinion of Pauſanias (Laconicis) 30 Stadia from Gy⯑thium.
- Amyclae, 20 Stades from Sparta toward the Sea. Ptol. l. 4. under the Mountain Tayge⯑tus. [38] Strab. l. 8.
- Helos, on the Sea-ſide. Hom. upon the River Eurotas. Strab. ibid.
- Laas,
- O Etylos, near the Promontory of Taenarus. Pauſ. Lac.
- MESSENIA, under Neſtor, containing,
- Pylos, the City of Neſtor on the Sea-ſhore.
- Arene, ſeated near the River Minyeius. Hom. Il. 11. Strab. l. 8.
- Thryon, on the River Alpheus, the ſame which Homer elſewhere calls Thryoëſſa. Strab. ibid.
- Aepy, the ancient Geographers differ about the Situation of this Town, but agree to place it near the Sea. Vide Strab. l. 8.—Summis ingeſtum montibus Aepy. Stat. l. 4.
- Cypariſie, on the Borders of Meſſenia, and upon the Bay called from it Cypariſſaeus. Pauſ. Meſſen.
- Amphigenia,—Fertilis Amphigenia. Stat. Th. 4. near the former. So alſo, Pteleon, which was built by a Colony from Pteleon in Theſſaly. Strab. l. 8.
- Helos, near the River Alpheus. Ibid.
- Dorion, a Field or Mountain near the Sea. Ibid.
- ARCADIA, under Agapenor, containing,
- The Mountain Cyllene, the higheſt of Pe⯑loponneſus, on the Borders of Achaia and Ar⯑cadia, near Pheneus. Pauſ. Arcad. Under this ſtood the Tomb of Aepytus. That Mo⯑nument (the ſame Author tells us) was re⯑maining in his Time, it was only a heap of Earth inclos'd with a Wall of rough Stone.
- Pheneus, confining on Pellene and Stym⯑phelus. Ibid.
- Orchomenus, confining on Pheneus and Mantinaea. Ibid.
- Ripe, Stratie, Eniſpe, Theſe three, Strabo tells us, are not to be found, nor their Situa⯑tion aſſign'd. Lib. 8. prope fin. Eniſpe ſtood high, as appears from Homer, and Statius l. 4. Ventoſa⯑que donat Eniſpe.
- Tegea, between Argos and Sparta. Polyb. l. 4.
- Mantinaea, bordering upon Tegea, Argia, and Orchomenus. Pauſ. Arcad.
- Stymphelus, confining on Phliaſia or Are⯑thyria. Strab. l. 8.
- Parrahaſia, adjoining to Laconia. Thucyd. l. 5.—Parrhaſiae (que) nives. Ovid. Faſt. 2.
- ELIS, under four Leaders, Amphimachus, &c. containing,
- The City Elis, 120 Stades from the Sea. Pauſ. Eliacis 2.
- Bupraſium near Elis. Strab. l. 8.
- The Places bounded by the Fields of Hyr⯑mine, in the Territory of Elis, between Mount Cyllene and the Sea.
- Myrſinus, on the Sea-ſide 70 Stades from Elis. Strab. l. 8.
- The Olenian Rocks, which ſtood near the City Olenos at the Mouth of the River Pierus. Pauſ. Achaic.
- And Alyſium, the Name of a Town or Ri⯑ver, in the way from Elis to Piſa. Strab. l. 8.
- LACONIA, under Menelaus, containing,
- The ISLES over againſt the Continent of Elis, Achaia, or Acarnania.
- Echinades and Dulichium, under Meges.
- The Cephalenians under Ulyſſes, being thoſe from Samos (the ſame with Cephalenia) from Zacynthus, Grocylia, Aegilipa, Neritus, and Ithaca. This laſt is generally ſuppos'd to be the largeſt of theſe Iſlands on the Eaſt ſide of Cephalenia, and next to it; but that is, ac⯑cording to Wheeler, 20 Italian Miles in Cir⯑cumference, whereas Strabo gives Ithaca but 80 Stadia about. It was rather one of the leſſer Iſlands toward the Mouth of the A⯑chelous.
- Homer adds to theſe Places under the Do⯑minion of Ulyſſes, Epirus and the oppoſite Con⯑tinent, by which (as M. Dacier obſerves) cannot be meant Epirus properly ſo call'd, which was never ſubject to Ulyſſes, but only the Sea-coaſt of Acarnania oppoſite to the Iſlands.
- The Continent of ACARNANIA and AETOLIA, under Thoas.
- Pleuron, ſeated between Chalcis and Caly⯑don, by the Sea-ſhore upon the River Evenus, Weſt of Chalcis. Strab. l. 10.
- Olenos, lying above Calydon, with the Eve⯑nus on the Eaſt of it. Ibid.
- Pylene, the ſame with Proſchion, not far from Pleuron, but more in the Land, Strab. l. 10.
- Chalcis, a Sea Town. Hom. ſituate on the Eaſt ſide of the Evenus. Strab. ibid. There was another Chalcis at the Head of the Eve⯑nus call'd by Strabo Hypo-Chalcis.
- Calydon, on the Evenus alſo. Ibid.
- [39]The Iſle of CRETE, under Idomeneus, containing,
- Gnoſſus, ſeated in the Plain between Lyctus and Gortyna, 120 Stad. from Lyctus. Strab. l. 10.
- Gortyna, 90 Stad. from the African Sea. Ibid.
- Lyctus, 80 Stad. from the ſame Sea. Ibid.
- Miletus,
- Pheſtus, 60. Stad. from Gortyna, 20 from the Sea, under Gortyna. Strab. ibid. It lay on the River Jardan, as appears by Homer's Deſcription of it in the third Book of the Odyſſes.
- Lycaſtus,
- Rhytium, under Gortyna. Strab.
- The Iſle of RHODES, under Tlepolemus, containing,
- Lindus, on the right Hand to thoſe who ſail from the City Rhodes, Southward. Strab. l. 14.
- Jalyſſus, between Camirus and Rhodes. Ibid. Camirus.
- The Iſlands, Syma (under Nireus) Niſyrus, Carpathus, Caſus, Cos, Calydnae, under Antiphus and Phidippus.
- The Continent of THESSALY toward the Aegean Sea, under Achilles.
- Argos Pelaſgicum (the ſame which was ſince called Pthiotis.) Strabo lib. 9. ſays that ſome thought this the Name of a Town, others that Homer meant by it this Part of Theſſaly in general (which laſt ſeems moſt probable.) Steph. Byzant. obſerves, there was a City Argos in Theſſaly as well as in Peloponneſus; the former was call'd Pelaſgic in Contradi⯑ſtinction to the Achaian: for tho' the Pelaſgi poſſeſt ſeveral Parts of Epirus, Crete, Pelo⯑ponneſus, &c. yet they retain'd their principal Seat in Theſſaly. Steph. Byz. in v. Panel.
- Alos, Alope, Both on the Shore of Theſſaly to⯑wards Locris. Strab. l 9. Alos lies in the Paſſage of Mount Othrys. Ibid.
- Trechine, under the Mountain O Eta. Eu⯑ſtath. in Il. 2.
- Phthia, Hellas. Some ſuppos'd theſe two to be Names of the ſame Place, as Strabo ſays; tho' 'tis plain Homer diſtinguiſhes them. Whether they were Cities or Regions Strabo is not determin'd. Lib. 9.
- The Hellenes. This Denomination, after⯑wards common to all the Greeks, is here to be underſtood only of thoſe who inhabited Phthiotis. It was not 'till long after Homer's Time that the People of other Cities of Greece deſiring Aſſiſtance from theſe, began to have the ſame Name from their Communication with them, as Thucydides remarks in the be⯑ginning of his firſt Book.
- The following under Proteſilaus.
- Phylace, on the Coaſt of Phthiotis toward the Melian Bay. Strab. l. 9.
- Pyrrhaſus, beyond the Mountain Othrys, had the Grove of Ceres within two Stadia of it. Ibid.
- Itona, 60 Stad. from Alos, it lay higher in the Land than Pyrrhaſus, above Mount O⯑thrys. Ibid.
- Antron, on the Sea-ſide Hom. in the Paſſage to Euboea. Ibid.
- Pteleon, the Situation of this Town in Strabo ſeems to be between Antron and Pyr⯑rhaſus: But Pliny deſcribes it with great Ex⯑actneſs to lie on the Shore towards Boeotia, on the Confines of Phthiotis, upon the River Sperchius; according to which Particulars it muſt have been ſeated as I have placed it. Livy alſo ſeats it on the Sperchius.
- All thoſe Towns which were under Pro⯑teſilans (ſays Strabo, lib. 9.) being the five laſt mention'd, lay on the Eaſtern ſide of the Mountain Othrys.
- Theſe under Eumelus.
- Pherae, in the fartheſt Part of Magneſia con⯑fining on Mount Pelion. Strab. l. 9. near the Lake of Baebe. Ptol. and plentifully water'd with the Fountains of Hyperia. Strab.
- Glaphyrae,
- Iolcos, a Sea-Town on the Pegaſaean Bay. Livy, l. 4. and Strab.
- Ʋnder Philoctetes.
- Methone, a City of Macedonia, 40 Stadia from Pydna in Pieria. Strab.
- Thaumacia, Moehbea, in Phthiotis near Pharſalus, according to the ſame Au⯑thor. Ibid.
- Olyzon. It ſeems that this Place lay near Baebe, Iolcos, and Ormenium, from Strab. l. 9. where he ſays, Demetrius cauſed the Inhabi⯑tants of theſe Towns to remove to Demetrias, on the ſame Coaſt.
- [40]The Ʋpper THESSALY.
- The following under Podalirius and Machaon.
- Trice, or Tricce, not far from the Moun⯑tain Pindus, on the left Hand of the Peneus as it runs from Pindus. Strab. l. 9.
- Ithome, near Trica. Ibid.
- O Echalia, the Situation not certain, ſome⯑where near the forementioned Towns. Str. ibid.
- Ʋnder Eurypylus.
- Ormenium, under Pellon, on the Pegaſaean Bay, near Baebe. Ibid.
- Aſterium, hard by Phoerae and Titanus. Ibid.
- Ʋnder Polyphaetes.
- Agriſſa, lying upon the River Peneus. Str, l. 9.
- Gyrtone, a City of Perrhaebia at the Foot of Olympus. Ibid.
- Orthe, near Peneus and Tempe. Ibid.
- Elope, Olooſſon, both lying under Olympus near the River Titareſius. Ibid.
- Ʋnder Guneus and Protheus.
- Cyphus, ſeated in the mountainous Coun⯑try towards Olympus. Ibid.
- Dodona, among the Mountains toward O⯑lympus. Ibid.
- Titareſius, a River riſing in the Mountain Titarus near Olympus, and running into Pe⯑neus. Ibid. 'Tis alſo call'd Eurotas.
- The River Peneus riſes from Mount Pin⯑dus, and flows through Tempe into the Sea. Strab. l. 7. and 9.
- Pelion, near Oſſa, in Magneſia. Herod. lib. 7,
- The following under Podalirius and Machaon.
A Table of TROY, and the Auxiliar COUNTRIES.
[41]- THE Kingdom of Priam divided into eight Dynaſties.
- 1. Troas, under Hector, whoſe Ca⯑pital was Ilion.
- 2. Dardania, under Aeneas, the Capital Dardanus.
- 3. Zeleia, at the Foot of Ida, by the Aeſe⯑pus, under Pandarus.
- 4. Adreſtia, Apaeſus, Pityea, Mount Teree, under Adraſtus and Amphius.
- Seſtos, Abydos, Arisbe on the River Selle, Percote and Practius, under Aſius.
- Theſe Places lay between Troy and the Propontis.
- The other three Dynaſties were under Mynes, Eetion, and Alteus, the Capital of the firſt was Lyrneſſus, of the ſecond Thebe of Cilicia, of the third Pedaſus, in Lelegia. Ho⯑mer does not mention theſe in the Catalogue, having been before deſtroy'd and depopu⯑lated by the Greeks.
The Auxiliar Nations.
- The Pelaſgi, under Hippothous and Pyleus, whoſe Capital was Lariſſa, near the Place where Cuma was afterwards built. Strab. l. 13.
- The Thracians, by the ſide of the Helleſpont oppoſite to Troy, under Acamas and Pyrous, and thoſe of Ciconia, under Euphemus.
- The Poeonians from Macedonia and the River Axius, under Pyrechmes.
- The Paphlagonians, under Pylaemeneus. The Halizonians, under Odius and Epiſtrophus. The Myſians, under Cromis and Ennomus. The Phrygians of Aſcania, under Phorcys and Aſ⯑canius.
- The Maeonians, under Meſtles and Antiphus, who inhabited under the Mountain Tmolus.
- The Carians, under Nauſtes and Amphima⯑chus, from Miletus, the farthermoſt City of Caria toward the South. Herodot. lib. 1.
- Mycale, a Mountain and Promontory op⯑poſite to Samos. Ibid.
- Pthiron, the ſame Mountain as Latmos, ac⯑cording to Hecataeus.
- The Lycians, under Sarpedon and Glaucus, from the Banks of the River Xanthus, which runs into the Sea betwixt Rhodes and Cyprus. Homer mentions it to diſtinguiſh this Lycia from that which lies on the Propontis.
THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ILIAD.
[]The ARGUMENT.
The Duel of Menelaus and Paris.
[]THE Armies being ready to engage, a ſingle Combate is agreed upon between Menelaus and Paris (by the Intervention of Hector) for the Determination of the War. Iris is ſent to call Helena to behold the Fight. She leads her to the Walls of Troy, where Priam ſate with his Counſel⯑lors obſerving the Graecian Leaders on the Plain below, to whom Helen gives an Account of the chief of them. The Kings on ei⯑ther Part take the ſolemn Oath for the Conditions of the Com⯑bate. The Duel enſues, wherein Paris being overcome is ſnatch'd away in a Cloud by Venus, and tranſported to his Apartment. She then calls Helen from the Walls, and brings the Lovers together. Agamemnon on the Part of the Grae⯑cians, demands the Reſtoration of Helen, and the Performance of the Articles.
The three and twentieth Day ſtill continues throughout this Book. The Scene is ſometimes in the Fields before Troy, and ſometimes in Troy itſelf.
THE THIRD BOOK. OF THE ILIAD.
[1]OBSERVATIONS ON THE Third Book.
[3]OBSERVATIONS ON THE THIRD BOOK.
[]OF all the Books of the Iliad, there is ſcarce any more pleaſing than the Third. It may be divided into five Parts, each of which has a Beauty different from the other. The firſt contains what paſs'd before the two Armies, and the Propoſal of the Combate between Paris and Menelaus: The Attention and Suſpenſe of theſe mighty Hoſts, which were juſt upon the Point of joining Battel, and the lofty manner of offering and accepting this important and unex⯑pected Challenge, have ſomething in them wonderfully pom⯑pous and of an amuſing Solemnity. The ſecond Part which de⯑ſcribes the Behaviour of Helena in this Juncture, her Conference with the old King and his Counſellors, with the Review of the Heroes from the Battelments, is an Epiſode entirely of another ſort, which excels in the Natural and Pathetick. The third conſiſts of the Ceremonies of the Oath on both ſides and the Preliminaries to the Combate; with the beau⯑tiful Retreat of Priam, who in the Tenderneſs of a Parent withdraws from the ſight of the Duel: Theſe Particulars de⯑tain the Reader in Expectation, and heighten his Impatience for the Fight itſelf. The fourth is the Deſcription of the Duel, an exact Piece of Painting where we ſee every Atti⯑tude, Motion, and Action of the Combatants particularly and diſtinctly, and which concludes with a ſurprizing Pro⯑priety, in the reſcue of Paris by Venus. The Machine of [4] that Goddeſs which makes the fifth Part, and whoſe End is to reconcile Paris and Helena, is admirable in every Circum⯑ſtance; The Remonſtrance ſhe holds with the Goddeſs, the Reluctance with which ſhe obeys her, the Reproaches ſhe caſts upon Paris, and the Flattery and Courtſhip with which he ſo ſoon wins her over to him. Helen (the main Cauſe of this War) was not to be made an odious Character; She is drawn by this great Maſter with the fineſt Strokes, as a frail, but not an abandon'd Creature. She has perpetual Struggles of Virtue on the one ſide, and Softneſſes which overcome them on the other. Our Author has been remark⯑ably careful to tell us this; whenever he but ſlightly names her in the foregoing Part of his Work ſhe is repreſented at the ſame time as repentant; and it is thus we ſee her at large at her firſt Appearance in the preſent Book, which is one of the ſhorteſt of the whole Iliad, but in recompence has Beau⯑ties almoſt in every Line, and moſt of them ſo obvious that to acknowledge them we need only to read them.
I.
‘VERSE 3. With Shouts the Trojans.]’ The Book begins with a fine Oppoſition of the Noiſe of the Trojan Army to the Silence of the Graecians. It was but natural to imagine this, ſince the former was compos'd of many different Na⯑tions, of various Languages and Strangers to each other; the latter were more united in their Neighbourhood, and under Leaders of the ſame Country. But as this Obſervation ſeems particularly inſiſted upon by our Author (for he uſes it again in the fourth Book, ℣. 430.) ſo he had a farther Reaſon for it. Plutarch in his Treatiſe of reading the Poets, remarks upon this Diſtinction, as a particular Credit to the military Diſcipline of the Greeks. And ſeveral ancient Authors tell us, it was the Manner of the Barbarians to encounter with Shouts and Outcries; as it continues to this Day the Cuſtom of the Eaſtern Nations. Perhaps theſe Clamours were only to encourage their Men, inſtead of martial Inſtruments. I think Sir Walter Raleigh ſays, there never was a People but made uſe of ſome ſort of Muſick in Battel: Homer never [5] mentions any in the Greek or Trojan Armies, and it is ſcarce to be imagined he would omit a Circumſtance ſo poetical without ſome particular Reaſon. The Verb [...] which the modern Greeks have ſince appropriated to the ſound of a Trumpet, is uſed indifferently in our Author for other Sounds, as for Thunder in the the 21st Iliad, ℣. 388. [...]—. He once names the Trumpet [...] in a Simile, upon which Euſtathius and Didymus obſerve that the uſe of it was known in the Poet's Time, but not in that of the Trojan War. And hence we may infer that Homer was particularly careful not to confound the Manners of the Times he wrote of, with thoſe of the Times he liv'd in.
II.
‘VERSE 7. The Cranes embody'd fly.]’ If Wit has been truly deſcrib'd to be a Similitude in Ideas, and is more excellent as that Similitude is more ſurprizing; there cannot be a truer kind of Wit than what is ſhewn in apt Compariſons, eſpe⯑cially when compoſed of ſuch Subjects as having the leaſt Re⯑lation to each other in general, have yet ſome Particular that agrees exactly. Of this Nature is the Simile of the Cranes to the Trojan Army, where the Fancy of Homer flew to the re⯑moteſt Part of the World for an Image which no Reader could have expected. But it is no leſs exact than ſurprizing. The Likeneſs conſiſts in two Points, the Noiſe and the Order; the latter is ſo obſervable as to have given ſome of the An⯑cients occaſion to imagine the embatteling of an Army was firſt learn'd from the cloſe manner of Flight of theſe Birds. But this Part of the Simile not being directly expreſs'd by the Author, has been overlook'd by ſome of the Commentators. It may be remark'd that Homer has generally a wonderful Cloſeneſs in all the Particulars of his Compariſons, notwith⯑ſtanding he takes a Liberty in his Expreſſion of them. He ſeems ſo ſecure of the main Likeneſs, that he makes no ſcru⯑ple to play with the Circumſtances; ſometimes by tranſpoſing the Order of them, ſometimes by ſuper-adding them, and ſome⯑times (as in this Place) by neglecting them in ſuch a manner as to leave the Reader to ſupply them himſelf. For the preſent [6] Compariſon, it has been taken by Virgil in the tenth Book, and apply'd to the Clamours of Soldiers in the ſame manner.
III.
‘VERSE 26. The beauteous Paris came, In Form a God.]’ This is meant by the Epithet [...], as has been ſaid in the 24th Note on the firſt Book. The Picture here given of Paris's Air and Dreſs, is exactly correſpondent to his Character; you ſee him endeavouring to mix the fine Gentleman with the Warriour; and this Idea of him Homer takes care to keep up, by deſcribing him not without the ſame Regard when he is arming to encounter Menelaus afterwards in a cloſe Fight, as he ſhews here where he is but preluding and flouriſhing in the Gaiety of his Heart. And when he tells us in that Place that he was in danger of being ſtrangled by the Strap of his Helmet, he takes notice that it was [...], embroider'd.
IV.
‘VERSE 37. So joys a Lion if the branching Deer, Or Moun⯑tain Goat.]’ The old Scholiaſts refining on this Simile will have it that Paris is compar'd to a Goat on account of his Incon⯑tinence, and to a Stag for his Cowardice: To this laſt they make an Addition which is very ludicrous, that he is alſo liken'd to a Deer for his Skill in Muſick, and cite Ariſtotle to prove that Animal delights in Harmony, which Opinion is alluded to by Mr. Waller in theſe Lines,
But upon the whole, it is whimſical to imagine this Compa⯑riſon conſiſts in any thing more, than the Joy which Mene⯑laus conceiv'd at the ſight of his Rival, in the hopes of de⯑ſtroying [7] him. It is equally an Injuſtice to Paris, to abuſe him for underſtanding Muſick, and to repreſent his Retreat as purely the Effect of Fear, which proceeded from his Senſe of Guilt with reſpect to the particular Perſon of Menelaus. He appear'd at the Head of the Army to challenge the boldeſt of the Enemy: Nor is his Character elſewhere in the Iliad by any means that of a Coward. Hector at the end of the ſixth Book confeſſes, that no Man could juſtly reproach him as ſuch. Nor is he repreſented ſo by Ovid (who copy'd Homer very cloſely) in the end of his Epiſtle to Helen. The Moral of Homer is much finer: A brave Mind however blinded with Paſſion is ſenſible of Remorſe as ſoon as the injur'd Object preſents itſelf; and Paris never behaves himſelf ill in War, but when his Spirits are depreſs'd by the Conſciouſneſs of an Injuſtice. This alſo will account for the ſeeming Incongruity of Homer in this Paſſage, who (as they would have us think) paints him a ſhameful Coward, at the ſame time that he is perpetually calling him the divine Paris, and Paris like a God. What he ſays immediately afterwards in anſwer to Hector's Reproof, will make this yet more clear.
V.
‘VERSE 47. As when a Shepherd.]’ This Compariſon of the Serpent is finely imitated by Virgil in the ſecond Aeneid.
But it may be ſaid to the Praiſe of Virgil, that he has ap⯑ply'd it upon an Occaſion where it has an additional Beauty. Paris upon the ſight of Menelaus's Approach, is compar'd to a Traveller who ſees a Snake ſhoot on a ſudden towards him. But the Surprize and Danger of Androgeus is more lively, be⯑ing juſt in the reach of his Enemies before he perceiv'd it; and the Circumſtance of the Serpent's rouzing his Creſt, which brightens with Anger, finely images the ſhining of [8] their Arms in the Night-time, as they were juſt lifted up to deſtroy him. Scaliger criticizes on the needleſs Repetition in the Words [...] and [...], which is avoided in the Tranſlation. But it muſt be obſerv'd in general, that little Exactneſſes are what we ſhould not look for in Homer; the Genius of his Age was too incorrect, and his own too fiery to regard them.
VI.
‘VERSE 53. As God-like Hector.]’ This is the firſt Place of the Poem where Hector makes a figure, and here it ſeems proper to give an Idea of his Character, ſince if he is not the chief Heroe of the Iliad, he is at leaſt the moſt amiable. There are ſeveral Reaſons which render Hector a favorite Character with every Reader, ſome of which ſhall here be offer'd. The chief Moral of Homer was to expoſe the ill Ef⯑fects of Diſcord; the Greeks were to be ſhewn diſunited, and to render that Diſunion the more probable, he has deſign⯑edly given them mixt Characters. The Trojans on the other hand were to be repreſented making all Advantages of the others Diſagreement, which they could not do without a ſtrict Union among themſelves. Hector therefore who commanded them, muſt be endu'd with all ſuch Qualifications as tended to the Preſervation of it; as Achilles with ſuch as promoted the contrary. The one ſtands in Contraſte to the other, an ac⯑compliſh'd Character of Valour unruffled by Rage and An⯑ger, and uniting his People by his Prudence and Example. Hector has alſo a Foil to ſet him off in his own Family; we are perpetually oppoſing in our Minds the Incontinence of Paris, who expoſes his Country, to the Temperance of Hector who protects it. And indeed it is this Love of his Country which appears his principal Paſſion, and the Motive of all his Actions. He has no other Blemiſh than that he fights in an unjuſt Cauſe, which Homer has yet been careful to tell us he would not do, if his Opinion were followed. But ſince he cannot prevail, the Affection he bears to his Parents and Kindred, and his deſire of defending them, in⯑cites him to do his utmoſt for their Safety. We may add [9] that Homer having ſo many Greeks to celebrate, makes them ſhine in their turns, and ſingly in their ſeveral Books, one ſucceeding in the Abſence of another: Whereas Hector ap⯑pears in every Battel the Life and Soul of his Party, and the conſtant Bulwark againſt every Enemy: He ſtands againſt Agamemnon's Magnanimity, Diomed's Bravery, Ajax's Strength, and Achilles's Fury. There is beſides, an acciden⯑tal Cauſe for our liking him from reading the Writers of the Auguſtan Age, eſpecially Virgil, whoſe Favorite he grew more particularly from the time when the Caeſars fancy'd to derive their Pedigree from Troy.
VII.
‘VERSE 55. Unhappy Paris, &c.]’ It may be obſerv'd in Honour of Homer's Judgment, that the Words which Hector is made to ſpeak here, very ſtrongly mark his Cha⯑racter. They contain a warm Reproach of Cowardice, and ſhew him to be touch'd with ſo high a Senſe of Glory, as to think Life inſupportable without it. His calling to mind the gallant Figure which Paris had made in his Amours to He⯑len, and oppoſing to it the Image of his Flight from her Husband, is a Sarcaſm of the utmoſt Bitterneſs and Vivacity. After he has named that Action of the Rape, the Cauſe of ſo many Miſchiefs, his inſiſting upon it in ſo many broken Periods, thoſe disjointed Shortneſſes of Speech,
That haſty manner of Expreſſion without the Connexion of Particles, is (as Euſtathius remarks) extreamly natural to a Man in Anger, who thinks he can never vent himſelf too ſoon. That Contempt of outward Shew, of the Graceful⯑neſs of Perſon, and of the Accompliſhments of a Courtly Life, is what correſponds very well with the War-like Tem⯑per of Hector; and theſe Verſes have therefore a Beauty here which they want in Horace, however admirably he has tranſ⯑lated them, in the Ode of Nireus's Prophecy.
VIII.
‘VERSE 72. And both her Warlike Lords.]’ The Original is [...]. The Spouſe of Martial Men. I wonder why Madam Dacier choſe to turn it Alliée à tant de braves guerriers, ſince it ſo naturally refers to Theſeus and Menelaus, the former Husbands of Helena.
IX.
‘VERSE 80. Thy curling Treſſes, and thy ſilver Lyre.]’ It is ingeniouſly remark'd by Dacier, that Homer who celebrates the Greeks for their long Hair [ [...]] and Achilles for his Skill on the Harp, makes Hector in this Place object them both to Paris. The Greeks nouriſhed their Hair to appear more dreadful to the Enemy, and Paris to pleaſe the Eyes of Women. Achilles ſung to his Harp the Acts of Heroes, and Paris the Amours of Lovers. The ſame reaſon which makes Hector here diſpleas'd at them, made Alexander afterwards refuſe to ſee this Lyre of Paris when offer'd to be ſhewn to him, as Plutarch relates the Story in his Oration of the Fortune of Alexander.
X.
‘VERSE 83. One avenging Blow.]’ It is in the Greek, You had been clad in a Coat of Stone. Giphanius would have it to mean ſtoned to death on the account of his Adultery: But this does not appear to have been the Puniſhment of that Crime among the Phrygians. It ſeems rather to ſignify, deſtroy'd by the Fury of the People for the War he had brought upon them; or perhaps may imply no more than being laid in his Grave under a Monument of Stones; but the former being the ſtronger Senſe is here followed.
XI.
[11]‘VERSE 86. 'Tis juſt, my Brother.]’ This Speech is a far⯑ther opening of the true Character of Paris. He is a Maſter of Civility, no leſs well-bred to his own Sex than courtly to the other. The Reproof of Hector was of a ſevere Nature, yet he receives it as from a Brother and a Friend, with Can⯑dour and Modeſty. This Anſwer is remarkable for its fine Addreſs; he gives the Heroe a decent and agreeable Reproof for having too raſhly depreciated the Gifts of Nature. He allows the Quality of Courage its utmoſt due, but deſires the ſame Juſtice to thoſe ſofter Accompliſhments, which he lets him know are no leſs the Favour of Heaven. Then he re⯑moves from himſelf the Charge of want of Valour, by pro⯑poſing the ſingle Combate with the very Man he had juſt declined to engage; which having ſhewn him void of any Malevolence to his Rival on the one hand, he now proves himſelf free from the Imputation of Cowardice on the other. Homer draws him (as we have ſeen) ſoft of Speech, the na⯑tural Quality of an amorous Temper; vainly gay in War as well as Love; with a Spirit that can be ſurprized and recol⯑lected, that can receive Impreſſions of Shame or Apprehen⯑ſion on the one ſide, or of Generoſity and Courage on the other; the uſual Diſpoſition of eaſy and courteous Minds which are moſt ſubject to the Rule of Fancy and Paſ⯑ſion. Upon the whole, this is no worſe than the Picture of a gentle Knight, and one might fancy the Heroes of the mo⯑dern Romance were form'd upon the Model of Paris.
XII.
‘VERSE 108. Much fam'd for gen'rous Steeds, for Beauty more.]’ The Original is, [...]. Perhaps this Line is tranſlated too cloſe to the Letter, and the Epithets might have been omitted. But there are ſome Traits and Particularities of this Nature, which methinks preſerve to the Reader the Air of Homer. At leaſt the latter of theſe Circumſtances, that Greece was eminent [12] for beautiful Women, ſeems not improper to be mention'd by him who had rais'd a War on the account of a Grecian Beauty.
XIII.
‘VERSE 109. The Challenge Hector heard with Joy.]’ Hector ſtays not to reply to his Brother, but runs away with the Challenge immediately. He looks upon all the Trojans as diſgrac'd by the late Flight of Paris, and thinks not a Mo⯑ment is to be loſt to regain the Honour of his Country. The Activity he ſhews in all this Affair wonderfully agrees with the Spirit of a Soldier.
XIV.
‘VERSE 123. Hear all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian Bands.]’ It has been ask'd how the different Nations could underſtand one another in theſe Conferences, ſince we have no mention in Homer of any Interpreter between them? He who was ſo very particular in the moſt minute Points, can hardly be thought to have been negligent in this. Some Reaſons may be offer'd that they both ſpoke the ſame Language; for the Trojans (as may be ſeen in Dion. Halic. lib. 1.) were of Gre⯑cian Extraction originally. Dardanus the firſt of their Kings was born in Arcadia; and even their Names were generally Greek, as Hector, Anchiſes, Andromache, Aſtyanax, &c. Of the laſt of theſe in particular Homer gives us a Derivation which is purely Greek in Il. 6. ℣. 403. But however it be, this is no more (as Dacier ſomewhere obſerves) than the juſt Privilege of Poetry. Aeneas and Turnus underſtand each other in Virgil, and the Language of the Poet is ſuppos'd to be univerſally intelligible, not only between different Coun⯑tries, but between Earth and Heaven itſelf.
XV.
‘VERSE 135. Me too ye Warriors hear, &c.]’ We may ob⯑ſerve what care Homer takes to give every one his proper Character, and how this Speech of Menelaus is adapted to [13] the Laconick; which the better to comprehend, we may re⯑member there are in Homer three Speakers of different Cha⯑racters, agreeable to the three different kinds of Eloquence. Theſe we may compare with each other in one Inſtance, ſup⯑poſing them all to uſe the ſame Heads, and in the ſame Order.
The Materials of the Speech are, The manifeſting his Grief for the War, with the hopes that it is in his Power to end it; an Acceptance of the propos'd Challenge; an Ac⯑count of the Ceremonies to be us'd in the League; and a Propoſal of a proper Caution to ſecure it.
Now had Neſtor theſe Materials to work upon, he would pro⯑bably have begun with a Relation of all the Troubles of the nine Year's Siege which he hop'd he might now bring to an end; he would court their Benevolence and good Wiſhes for his Proſpe⯑rity with all the Figures of Amplification; while he accepted the Challenge, he would have given an Example to prove that the ſingle Combate was a wiſe, gallant, and gentle way of ending the War, practis'd by their Fathers; in the Deſcrip⯑tion of the Rites he would be exceeding particular; and when he choſe to demand the Sanction of Priam rather than of his Sons, he would place in Oppoſition on one ſide the Son's Action which began the War, and on the other the Im⯑preſſions of Concern or Repentance which it muſt by this time have made in the Father's Mind, whoſe Wiſdom he would undoubtedly extol as the effect of his Age. All this he would have expatiated upon with Connexions of the Diſcourſes in the moſt evident manner, and the moſt eaſy, gliding, undiſo⯑bliging Tranſitions. The Effect would be, that the People would hear him with Pleaſure.
Had it been Ulyſſes who was to make the Speech, he would have mention'd a few of their moſt affecting Calamities in a pathetick Air; then have undertaken the Fight with teſtify⯑ing ſuch a chearful Joy, as ſhould have won the Hearts of the Soldiers to follow him to the Field without being deſired. He would have been exceeding cautious in wording the Con⯑ditions; and ſolemn rather than particular in ſpeaking of the Rites, which he would only inſiſt on as an Opportunity to exhort both ſides to a fear of the Gods, and a ſtrict regard [14] of Juſtice. He would have remonſtrated the uſe of ſending for Priam; and (becauſe no Caution could be too much) have demanded his Sons to be bound with him. For a Concluſion he would have us'd ſome noble Sentiment agreeable to a He⯑roe, and (it may be) have enforc'd it with ſome inſpirited Action. In all this you would have known that the Diſcourſe hung together, but its Fire would not always ſuffer it to be ſeen in cooler Tranſitions, which (when they are too nicely laid open) may conduct the Reader, but never carry him away. The People would hear him with Emotion.
Theſe Materials being given to Menelaus, he but juſt mentions their Troubles, and his Satisfaction in the Proſpect of ending them, ſhortens the Propoſals, ſays a Sacrifice is neceſſary, requires Priam's Preſence to confirm the Conditi⯑ons, refuſes his Sons with a Reſentment of that Injury he ſuffer'd by them, and concludes with a Reaſon for his Choice from the Praiſe of Age, with a ſhort Gravity, and the Air of an Apothegm. This he puts in order without any more Tranſition than what a ſingle Conjunction affords. And the effect of the Diſcourſe is, that the People are inſtructed by it in what is to be done.
XVI.
‘VERSE 141. Two Lambs devoted.]’ The Trojans (ſays the old Scholiaſt) were required to ſacrifice two Lambs; one Male, of a white Colour, to the Sun, and one Female, and black, to the Earth; as the Sun is Father of Light, and the Earth the Mother and Nurſe of Men. The Greeks were to offer a third to Jupiter, perhaps to Jupiter Xenius becauſe the Trojans had broken the Laws of Hoſpitality: on which account we find Menelaus afterwards invoking him in the Combate with Paris. That theſe were the Powers to which they ſacrific'd, appears by their being atteſted by Name in the Oath, ℣. 340.
XVII.
‘VERSE 153. The Nations hear, with riſing Hopes poſſeſt.]’ It ſeem'd no more than what the Reader would reaſonably [15] expect, in the Narration of this long War, that a Period might have been put to it by the ſingle danger of the Parties chiefly concern'd, Paris and Menelaus. Homer has there⯑fore taken care toward the beginning of his Poem to ob⯑viate that Objection; and contriv'd ſuch a Method to ren⯑der this Combate of no effect, as ſhould naturally make way for all the enſuing Battels, without any future Proſpect of a Determination but by the Sword. It is farther worth ob⯑ſerving, in what manner he has improved into Poetry the common Hiſtory of this Action, if (as one may imagine) it was the ſame with that we have in the ſecond Book of Dictys Cretenſis. When Paris (ſays he) being wounded by the Spear of Menelaus fell to the Ground, juſt as his Adverſary was ruſh⯑ing upon him with his Sword, he was ſhot by an Arrow from Pandarus, which prevented his Revenge in the Moment he was going to take it. Immediately on the ſight of this perfidious Action, the Greeks roſe in a Tumult; the Trojans riſing at the ſame time, came on, and reſcued Paris from his Enemy. Homer has with great Art and Invention mingled all this with the Marvellous, and rais'd it in the Air of Fable. The Goddeſs of Love reſcues her Favourite; Jupiter debates whether or no the War ſhall end by the Defeat of Paris; Juno is for the Continuance of it; Minerva incites Pandarus to break the Truce, who thereupon ſhoots at Menelaus. This heigh⯑tens the Grandeur of the Action without deſtroying the Ve⯑riſimilitude, diverſifies the Poem, and exhibits a fine Moral; that whatever ſeems in the World the Effect of common Cauſes, is really owing to the Decree and Diſpoſition of the Gods.
XVIII.
‘VERSE 165. Mean while to beauteous Helen, &c.]’ The following Part where we have the firſt ſight of Helena, is what I cannot think inferior to any in the Poem. The Rea⯑der has naturally an Averſion to this pernicious Beauty, and is apt enough to wonder at the Greeks for endeavouring to recover her at ſuch an Expence. But her amiable Behaviour here, the ſecret Wiſhes that riſe in favour of her rightful [16] Lord, her Tenderneſs for her Parents and Relations, the Re⯑lentings of her Soul for the Miſchiefs her Beauty had been the Cauſe of, the Confuſion ſhe appears in, the veiling her Face and dropping a Tear, are Particulars ſo beautifully na⯑tural, as to make every Reader no leſs than Menelaus him⯑ſelf, inclin'd to forgive her at leaſt, if not to love her. We are afterwards confirm'd in this Partiality by the Sentiment of the old Counſellors upon the ſight of her, which one would think Homer put into their Mouths with that very view: We excuſe her no more than Priam does himſelf, and all thoſe do who felt the Calamities ſhe occaſion'd: And this Regard for her is heighten'd by all ſhe ſays herſelf; in which there is ſcarce a word that is not big with Repentance and Good-nature.
XIX.
‘VERSE 170. The golden Web her own ſad Story crown'd.]’ This is a very agreeable Fiction, to repreſent Helena weaving in a large Veil, or Piece of Tapeſtry, the Story of the Trojan War. One would think that Homer inherited this Veil, and that his Iliad is only an Explication of that admirable Piece of Art. Dacier.
XX.
‘VERSE 201. Like Graſhoppers.]’ This is one of the juſteſt and moſt natural Images in the World, tho' there have been Criticks of ſo little Taſte as to object to it as a mean one. The Garrulity ſo common to old Men, their Delight in Aſſo⯑ciating with each other, the feeble Sound of their Voices, the Pleaſure they take in a Sun-ſhiny Day, the Effects of Decay in their Chillneſs, Leanneſs, and Scarcity of Blood, are all Circumſtances exactly parallel'd in this Compariſon. To make it yet more proper to the old Men of Troy, Faiſta⯑thius has obſerv'd that Homer found a Hint for this Simile in the Trojan Story, where Tithou was feign'd to have been tranſ⯑form'd into a Graſhopper in his old Age, perhaps on account of his being ſo exhauſted by Years as to have nothing left him but Voice. Spondanus wonders that Homer ſhould apply [17] to Graſhoppers [...], a ſweet Voice, whereas that of theſe Animals is harſh and untuneful; and he is contented to come off with a very poor Evaſion of Homero fingere quid⯑libet fas fuit. But Heſychius rightly obſerves that [...] ſig⯑nifies [...], tener or gracilis, as well as ſuavis. The Senſe is certainly much better, and the Simile more truly preſerv'd by this Interpretation, which is here follow'd in tranſlating it feeble. However it may be alledg'd in Defence of the com⯑mon Verſions, and of Madam Dacier's (who has turn'd it Harmonieuſe) that tho' Virgil gives the Epithet raucae to Ci⯑cadae, yet the Greek Poets frequently deſcribe the Graſhopper as a muſical Creature, particularly Anacreon, and Theocritus Idyl. 1. where a Shepherd praiſes another's ſinging by telling him,
It is remarkable that Mr. Hobbes has omitted this beautiful Simile.
XXI.
‘VERSE 203. Theſe, when the Spartan Fair approach'd.]’ Madam Dacier is of Opinion there was never a greater Pane⯑gyrick upon Beauty than what Homer has found the Art to give it in this Place. An Aſſembly of venerable old Coun⯑ſellors, who had ſuffer'd all the Calamities of a tedious War, and were conſulting upon the Methods to put a Concluſion to it, ſeeing the only Cauſe of it approaching towards them, are ſtruck with her Charms, and cry out, No wonder! &c. Nevertheleſs they afterwards recollect themſelves, and con⯑clude to part with her for the publick Safety. If Homer had carry'd theſe old Mens Admiration any farther, he had been guilty of outraging Nature, and offending againſt Probabi⯑lity. The Old are capable of being touch'd with Beauty by the Eye; but Age ſecures them from the Tyranny of Paſſion, and the Effect is but tranſitory, for Prudence ſoon regains its Dominion over them. Homer always goes as far as he ſhould, but conſtantly ſtops juſt where he ought. Dacier.
The ſame Writer compares to this the Speech of Holoſernes's Soldiers on the ſight of Judith, Ch. 10. ℣. 18. But tho' [18] there be a Reſemblance in the Words, the Beauty is no way parallel; the Grace of this conſiſting in the Age and Cha⯑racter of thoſe who ſpeak it. There is ſomething very gal⯑lant upon the Beauty of Helen in one of Lucian's Dialogues. Mercury ſhews Menippus the Sculls of ſeveral fine Women; and when the Philoſopher is moralizing upon that of Helen, Was it for this a thouſand Ships ſail'd from Greece, ſo many brave Men dy'd, and ſo many Cities were deſtroy'd? My Friend (ſays Mercury) 'tis true; but what you behold is only her Scull, bad you ſeen her Face you would have been of their Opinion, and have done the very ſame thing.
XXII.
‘VERSE 211. The good old Priam.]’ The Character of a benevolent old Man is very well preſerv'd in Priam's Beha⯑viour to Helena. Upon the Confuſion he obſerves her in, he encourages her by attributing the Misfortunes of the War to the Gods alone, and not to her Fault. This Sentiment is alſo very agreeable to the natural Piety of old Age; thoſe who have had the longeſt Experience of human Accidents and Events, being moſt inclin'd to aſcribe the Diſpoſal of all things to the Will of Heaven. It is this Piety that renders Priam a Favourite of Jupiter (as we find in the beginning of the fourth Book) which for ſome time delays the Deſtruction of Troy; while his ſoft Nature and Indulgence for his Children makes him continue a War which ruines him. Theſe are the two principal Points of Priam's Character, tho' there are ſeveral leſſer Particularities, among which we may obſerve the Curioſity and inquiſitive Humour of old Age, which gives occaſion to the following Epiſode.
XXIII.
‘VERSE 219. And ſay, what Chief is he?]’ This View of the Grecian Leaders from the Walls of Troy, is juſtly look'd upon as an Epiſode of great Beauty, as well as a Maſterpiece of Conduct in Homer; who by this means acquaints the Rea⯑ders with the Figure and Qualifications of each Heroe in a [19] more lively and agreeable manner. Several great Poets have been engag'd by the Beauty of this Paſſage to an Imitation of it. In the ſeventh Book of Statius, Phorbas ſtanding with Antigone on the Tower of Thebes, ſhews her the Forces as they were drawn up, and deſcribes their Commanders who were neighbouring Princes of Boeotia. It is alſo imi⯑tated by Taſſo in his third Book, where Erminia from the Walls of Jeruſalem points out the chief Warriours to the King; tho' the latter part is perhaps copied too cloſely and minutely; for he deſcribes Godfrey to be of a Port that be⯑ſpeaks him a Prince, the next of ſomewhat a lower Stature, a third renown'd for his Wiſdom, and then another is diſtin⯑guiſh'd by the Largeneſs of his Cheſt tnd Breadth of his Shoulders: Which are not only the very Particulars, but in the very Order of Homer's.
But however this manner of Introduction has been admir'd, there have not been wanting ſome Exceptions to a Particular or two. Scaliger asks, how it happens that Priam, after nine Years Siege, ſhould be yet unacquainted with the Faces of the Grecian Leaders? This was an old Cavil, as appears by the Scholia that paſs under the Name of Didymus, where it is very well anſwer'd, that Homer has juſt before taken care to tell us the Heroes had put off their Armour on this occaſion of the Truce, which had conceal'd their Perſons 'till now. Others have objected to Priam's not knowing Ulyſſes, who (as it appears afterwards) had been at Troy on an Embaſſy. The anſwer is, that this might happen either from the Dim⯑neſs of Priam's Sight, or Defect of his Memory, or from the Change of Ulyſſes's Features ſince that time.
XXIV.
‘VERSE 227. Before thy Preſence.]’ Helen is ſo over⯑whelmed with Grief and Shame, that ſhe is unable to give a direct Anſwer to Priam without firſt humbling herſelf before him, acknowledging her Crime, and teſtifying her Repent⯑ance. And ſhe no ſooner anſwers by naming Agamemnon, but her Sorrows renew at the Name; He was once my Bro⯑ther! but I am now a Wretch unworthy to call him ſo.
XXV.
[20]‘VERSE 236. Great in the War, and great in Arts of Sway.]’ This was the Verſe which Alexander the Great prefer'd to all others in Homer, and which he propos'd as the Pattern of his own Actions, as including whatever can be deſired in a Prince. Plut. Orat. de fort. Alex. 1.
XXVI.
‘VERSE 240. Extoll'd the happy Prince.]’ It was very natu⯑ral for Priam on this occaſion, to compare the declining Condition of his Kingdom with the flouriſhing State of Aga⯑memnon's, and to oppoſe his own Miſery (who had loſt moſt of his Sons and his braveſt Warriours) to the Felicity of the other, in being yet Maſter of ſo gallant an Army. After this the Humour of old Age breaks out, in the Narration of what Armies he had formerly ſeen, and bore a Part in the Command of; as well as what Feats of Valour he had then performed. Beſides which this Praiſe of the Greeks from the Mouth of an Enemy, was no ſmall Encomium of Homer's Countrymen.
XXVII.
‘VERSE 258. From Rank to Rank he moves.]’ The Vigilance and Inſpection of Ulyſſes were very proper Marks to diſtinguiſh him, and agree with his Character of a wiſe Man no leſs, than the Grandeur and Majeſty before deſcribed with that of Agamemnon, as the ſupreme Ruler; whereas we find Ajax afterwards taken notice of only for his Bulk, as a heavy He⯑roe without Parts or Authority. This Decorum is obſervable.
XXVIII.
‘VERSE 271. I knew their Perſons, &c.]’ In this View of the Leaders of the Army it had been an Overſight in Homer to have taken no Notice of Menelaus, who was not only one [21] of the Principal of them, but was immediately to engage the Obſervation of the Reader in the ſingle Combate. On the other hand it had been a high Indecorum to have made He⯑lena ſpeak of him. He has therefore put his Praiſes into the Mouth of Antenor; which was alſo a more artful way than to have preſented him to the Eye of Priam in the ſame man⯑ner with the reſt: It appears from hence what a Regard he has had both to Decency and Variety in the Conduct of his Poem. This Paſſage concerning the different Eloquence of Menelaus and Ulyſſes is inexpreſſibly juſt and beautiful. The cloſe, Laconick Conciſeneſs of the one, is finely oppoſite to the copious, vehement, and penetrating Oratory of the other; which is ſo exquiſitely deſcrib'd in the Simile of the Snow, falling faſt, and ſinking deep. For it is in this the Beauty of the Compariſon conſiſts according to Quintilian, l. 12. c. 10. In Ulyſſe facundiam & magnitudinem junxit, cui orationem ni⯑vibus hybernis copiâ verborum atque impetu parem tribuit. We may ſet in the ſame Light with theſe the Character of Neſtor's Eloquence, which conſiſted in Softneſs and Perſua⯑ſiveneſs, and is therefore (in Contradiſtinction to this of Ulyſſes) compar'd to Honey which drops gently and ſlowly: a manner of Speech extremely natural to a benevolent old Man, ſuch as Neſtor is repreſented. Auſonius has elegantly diſtinguiſh'd theſe three kinds of Oratory in the following Verſes.
Ningida dicta.
Neſtora regem.
XXIX.
‘VERSE 278. He ſpoke no more than juſt the thing he ought.]’ Chapman in his Notes on this Place and on the ſecond Book, has deſcribed Menelaus as a Character of Ridicule and Sim⯑plicity. He takes advantage from the word [...] here made [22] uſe of, to interpret that of the Shrillneſs of his Voice, which was apply'd to the Acuteneſs of his Senſe; He obſerves that this ſort of Voice is a Mark of a Fool; that Menelaus's com⯑ing to his Brother's Feaſt uninvited in the ſecond Book has occaſion'd a Proverb of Folly; that the Excuſe Homer him⯑ſelf makes for it (becauſe his Brother might forget to invite him thro' much Buſineſs) is purely ironical; that the Epithet [...] which is often apply'd to him, ſhould not be tranſ⯑lated warlike, but one who had an Affectation of loving War. In ſhort, that he was a weak Prince, play'd upon by others, ſhort in Speech, and of a bad Pronunciation, valiant only by fits, and ſometimes ſtumbling upon good Matter in his Speeches, as may happen to the moſt ſlender Capacity. This is one of the Myſteries which that Tranſlator boaſts to have found in Homer. But as it is no way conſiſtent with the Art of the Poet, to draw the Perſon in whoſe behalf he engages the World, in ſuch a manner as no Regard ſhould be con⯑ceiv'd for him; we muſt endeavour to reſcue him from this Miſrepreſentation. Firſt then, the preſent Paſſage is taken by Antiquity in general to be apply'd not to his Pronunciation, but his Eloquence. So Auſonius in the foregoing Citation, and Cicero de claris Oratoribus: Menelaum ipſum dulcem illum quidem tradit Homerus, ſed pauca loquentem. And Quintilian l. 12. c. 10. Homerus brevem cum animi jucunditate, & propriam (id enim eſt non errare verbis) & carentem ſupervacuis, Elo⯑quentiam Menelao dedit, &c. Secondly, tho' his coming un⯑invited may have occaſion'd a jeſting Proverb, it may natu⯑rally be accounted for on the Principle of brotherly Love, which ſo viſibly characteriſes both him and Agamemnon throughout the Poem. Thirdly, [...] may import a Love of War, but not an ungrounded Affectation. Upon the whole, his Character is by no means contemptible, tho' not of the moſt ſhining Nature. He is called indeed in the 17th Iliad [...], a ſoft Warrior, or one whoſe Strength is of the ſecond rate, and ſo his Brother thought him when he prefer'd nine before him to fight with Hector in the 7th Book. But on the other hand, his Courage gives him a conſiderable Figure in conquering Paris, defending the Body of Patroclus, reſcuing Ulyſſes, wounding Helenus, [23] killing Euphorbus, &c. He is full of Reſentment for his pri⯑vate Injuries, which brings him to the War with a Spirit of Revenge in the ſecond Book, makes him blaſpheme Jupiter in the third, when Paris eſcapes him, and curſe the Grecians in the ſeventh when they heſitate to accept Hector's Chal⯑lenge. But this alſo is qualify'd with a Compaſſion for thoſe who ſuffer in his Cauſe, which he every where manifeſts upon proper Occaſions; and with an Induſtry to gratify others, as when he obeys Ajax in the ſeventeenth Book, and goes up⯑on his Errand to find Antilochus, with ſome other Condeſcen⯑ſions of the like nature. Thus his Character is compos'd of Qualities which give him no uneaſy Superiority over others while he wants their Aſſiſtance, and mingled with ſuch as make him amiable enough to obtain it.
XXX.
‘VERSE 280. His modeſt Eyes, &c.]’ This Behaviour of Ulyſſes is copy'd by Ovid, Met. 13.
What follows in the Greek tranſlated word for word runs thus: He ſeem'd like a Fool, you would have thought him in a Rage, or a Madman. How oddly this would appear in our Language I appeal to thoſe who have read Ogilby. The whole Period means no more than to deſcribe that Behaviour which is commonly remarkable in a modeſt and ſenſible Man who ſpeaks in publick: His Diffidence and Reſpect gives him at his firſt riſing a ſort of Confuſion, which is not indecent, and which ſerves but the more to heighten the Surprize and Eſteem of thoſe who hear him.
XXXI.
‘VERSE 309. Perhaps their Swords.]’ This is another Stroke of Helen's Concern: The Senſe of her Crime is perpetually afflicting her, and awakes upon every occaſion. The [24] Lines that follow wherein Homer gives us to underſtand that Caſtor and Pollux were now dead, are finely introduc'd and in the Spirit of Poetry; the Muſe is ſuppos'd to know every thing, paſt and to come, and to ſee things diſtant as well as preſent.
XXXII.
‘VERSE 315. Mean time the Heralds, &c.]’ It may not be unpleaſing to the Reader to compare the Deſcription of the Ceremonies of the League in the following Part, with that of Virgil in the twelfth Book. The Preparations, the Pro⯑ceſſion of the Kings, and their Congreſs, are much more ſo⯑lemn and poetical in the latter; the Oath and Adjurations are equally noble in both.
XXXIII.
‘VERSE 342. The curling Hair.]’ We have here the whole Ceremonial of the ſolemn Oath, as it was obſerv'd anciently by the Nations our Author deſcribes. I muſt take this Occa⯑ſion of remarking that we might ſpare our ſelves the trouble of reading moſt Books of Grecian Antiquities, only by being well vers'd in Homer. They are generally bare Tranſcripti⯑ons of him, but with this unneceſſary Addition, that after having quoted any thing in Verſe, they ſay the ſame over again in Proſe. The Antiquitates Homericae of Feithius may ſerve as an Inſtance of this. What my Lord Bacon obſerves of Authors in general, is particularly applicable to theſe of Antiquities, that they write for Oſtentation not for Inſtruc⯑tion, and that their Works are perpetual Repetitions.
XXXIV.
‘VERSE 361. And Age to Age record the ſignal Day.]’ [...]. This ſeems the natural Senſe of the Line, and not as Madam Dacier renders it, the Tribute ſhall be paid to the Poſterity of the Greeks for ever. I think ſhe is ſingle in that Explication, the Ma⯑jority of the Interpreters taking it to ſignify that the Victo⯑ry [25] of the Grecians and this Pecuniary Acknowledgment ſhould be recorded to all Poſterity. If it means any more than this, at leaſt it cannot come up to the Senſe Madam Dacier gives it; for a Nation put under perpetual Tribute is rather enſlaved, than received to Friendſhip and Alliance, which are the Terms of Agamemnon's Speech. It ſeems ra⯑ther to be a Fine demanded as a Recompence for the Ex⯑pences of the War, which being made over to the Greeks ſhould remain to their Poſterity for ever, that is to ſay, which they ſhould never be moleſted for, or which ſhould never be redemanded in any Age as a Caſe of Injury. The Phraſe is the ſame we uſe at this Day, when any Purchaſe or Grant is at once made over to a Man and his Heirs for ever. With this will agree the Scholiaſt's Note, which tells us the Mulct was reported to have been half the Goods then in the beſieg'd City.
XXXV.
‘VERSE 364. The Chief the tender Victims ſlew.]’ One of the grand Objections which the Ignorance of ſome Moderns has rais'd againſt Homer, is what they call a Defect in the Manners of his Heroes. They are ſhock'd to find his Kings employ'd in ſuch Offices as ſlaughtering of Beaſts, &c. But they forget that ſacrificing was the moſt ſolemn Act of Re⯑ligion, and that Kings of old in moſt Nations were alſo Chief-Prieſts. This, among other Objections of the ſame kind, the Reader may ſee anſwered in the Preface.
XXXVI.
‘VERSE 433. Give me, great Jove.]’ Homer puts a Prayer in the Mouth of Menelaus, but none in Paris's: Menelaus is the Perſon injur'd and innocent, and may therefore apply to God for Juſtice; but Paris who is the Criminal, remains ſilent. Spondanus.
XXXVII.
[26]‘VERSE 447. The brittle Steel, unfaithful to his Hand, Broke ſhort’—This Verſe is cut to expreſs the Thing it deſcribes, the ſnapping ſhort of the Sword. 'Tis the Obſervation of Euſtathius on this Line of the Original, that we do not only ſee the Action, but imagine we hear the Sound of the break⯑ing Sword in that of the Words. [...]. And that Homer deſign'd it, may appear from his having twice put in the [...] (which was a Letter unne⯑ceſſary) to cauſe this Harſhneſs in the Verſe. As this Beauty could not be preſerv'd in our Language, it is endeavour'd in the Tranſlation to ſupply it with ſomething parallel.
XXXVIII.
‘VERSE 479. The Goddeſs ſoftly ſhook, &c.]’ Venus having convey'd Paris in Safety to his Chamber, goes to Helena who had been Spectator of his Defeat, in order to draw her to his Love. The better to bring this about, ſhe firſt takes upon her the moſt proper Form in the World, that of a fa⯑vourite Servant-Maid, and awakens her Paſſion by repreſenting to her the beautiful Figure of his Perſon. Next aſſuming her own Shape ſhe frightens her into a Complyance, notwith⯑ſtanding all the Struggles of Shame, Fear, and Anger, which break out in her Speech to the Goddeſs. This Machine is Allegorical, and means no more than the Power of Love tri⯑umphing over all the Conſiderations of Honour, Eaſe, and Safety. It has an excellent Effect as to the Poem, in pre⯑ſerving ſtill in ſome degree our good Opinion of Helena, whom we look upon with Compaſſion as conſtrain'd by a ſu⯑perior Power, and whoſe Speech tends to juſtify her in the Eye of the Reader.
XXXIX.
‘VERSE 487. She ſpoke, and Helen's ſecret Soul was mov'd.]’ Nothing is more fine than this; the firſt Thought of Paris's [27] Beauty overcomes (unawares to herſelf) the Contempt ſhe had that Moment conceiv'd of him upon his Overthrow. This Motion is but natural, and before ſhe perceives the Deity. When the Affections of a Woman have been tho⯑roughly gained, tho' they may be alienated for a while, they ſoon return upon her. Homer knew (ſays Madam Dacier) what a Woman is capable of, who had once lov'd.
XL.
‘VERSE 507. For me, to lawleſs Love no longer led, I ſcorn the Coward.]’ We have here another Branch of the Female Charac⯑ter, which is, to be ruled in their Attaches by Succeſs; Helen finding the Victory belong'd to Menelaus, accuſes herſelf ſecretly of having forſaken him for the other, and immediately entertains a high Opinion of the Man ſhe had once deſpiſed. One may add that the Fair Sex are generally Admirers of Courage, and naturally Friends to great Soldiers. Paris was no Stranger to this Diſpoſition in them, and had formerly endeavour'd to give her that Opinion of himſelf; as appears from her Re⯑proach to him afterwards.
XLI.
‘VERSE 515. Should Venus leave thee, ev'ry Charm muſt fly.]’ This was the moſt dreadful of all Threats, Loſs of Beauty and of Reputation. Helen who had been Proof to the per⯑ſonal Appearance of the Goddeſs, and durſt even reproach her with Bitterneſs juſt before, yields to this, and obeys all the Dictates of Love.
XLII.
‘VERSE 531. She turn'd away Her glowing Eyes.]’ This In⯑terview of the two Lovers, plac'd oppoſite to each other and over-look'd by Venus, Paris gazing on Helena, ſhe turning away her Eyes ſhining at once with Anger and Love, are Particulars finely drawn, and painted up to all the Life of Nature. Euſtathius imagines ſhe look'd aſide in the Con⯑ſciouſneſs [28] of her own Weakneſs, as apprehending that the Beauty of Paris might cauſe her to relent. Her burſting out into Paſſion and Reproaches while ſhe is in this State of Mind, is no ill Picture of Frailty: Venus (as Madam Da⯑cier obſerves) does not leave her, and Fondneſs will imme⯑diately ſucceed to theſe Reproaches.
XLIII.
‘VERSE 543. Ah ceaſe, divinely fair.]’ This Anſwer of Pa⯑ris is the only one he could poſſibly have made with any Succeſs in his Circumſtance. There was no other Method to reconcile her to him but that which is generally moſt powerful with the Sex, and which Homer (who was Learned every way) here makes uſe of.
XLIV.
‘VERSE 553. When firſt entranc'd in Cranaë's Iſle.]’ It is in the Original [...]. The true Senſe of which is expreſs'd in the Tranſlation. I cannot but take notice of a ſmall Piece of Pruderie in Madam Da⯑cier, who is exceeding careful of Helen's Character. She turns this Paſſage as if Paris had only her Conſent to be her Husband in this Iſland. Pauſanias explains this Line in ano⯑ther manner, and tells us it was here that Paris had firſt the Enjoyment of her, that in Gratitude for his Happineſs he built a Temple of Venus Migonitis, the Mingler or Coupler, and that the neighbouring Coaſt where it was erected was call'd Migonian from [...], à miſcendo. Pauſ. Laconicis.
XLV.
‘VERSE 551. Not thus I lov'd thee.]’ However Homer may be admired for his Conduct in this Paſſage, I find a general Outcry againſt Paris on this Occaſion. Plutarch has led the way in his Treatiſe of reading Poets, by remarking it as a moſt heinous Act of Incontinence in him to go to Bed to his Lady in the Day-time. Among the Commentators the [29] moſt violent is the moral Expoſitor Spondanus, who will not ſo much as allow him to ſay a civil thing to Helen. Mollis, effoeminatus, & ſpurcus ille adulter, nihil de libidine ſuâ immi⯑nutum dicit, ſed nunc magis eâ corripi quàm unquam aliàs, ne quidem cùm primùm ea ipſi dedit (Latini ita rectè exprimunt [...] in re venereâ) in Inſula Cranaë. Cùm alioqui ho⯑mines primi concubitûs ſoleant eſſe ardentiores. I could not deny the Reader the Diverſion of this Remark, nor Sponda⯑uus the Glory of his Zeal, who was but two and twenty when it was written. Madam Dacier is alſo very ſevere upon Pa⯑ris, but for a Reaſon more natural to a Lady. She is of Opinion that the Paſſion of the Lover would ſcarce have been ſo exceſſive as he here deſcribes it, but for fear of loſing his Miſtreſs immediately, as foreſeeing the Greeks would demand her. One may anſwer to this lively Remark, that Paris having nothing to ſay for himſelf, was obliged to teſtify an uncommon Ardour for his Lady, at a time when Compli⯑ments were to paſs inſtead of Reaſons. I hope to be excus'd if (in Revenge for her Remark upon our Sex) I obſerve up⯑on the Behaviour of Helen throughout this Book, which gives a pretty natural Picture of the Manners of theirs. We ſee her firſt in Tears, repentant, cover'd with Confuſion at the ſight of Priam, and ſecretly inclin'd to return to her former Spouſe. The Diſgrace of Paris increaſes her Diſ⯑like of him; ſhe rails, ſhe reproaches, ſhe wiſhes his Death; and after all, is prevail'd upon by one kind Compliment, and yields to his Embraces. Methinks when this Lady's Ob⯑ſervation and mine are laid together, the beſt that can be made of them is to conclude, that ſince both the Sexes have their Frailties, it would be well for each to forgive the other.
It is worth looking backward, to obſerve the Allegory here carry'd on with reſpect to Helena, who lives thro' this whole Book in a Whirl of Paſſions, and is agitated by turns with Sentiments of Honour and Love. The Goddeſſes made uſe of to caſt the Appearance of Fable over the Story, are Iris and Venus. When Helen is call'd to the Tower to behold her former Friends, Iris the Meſſenger of Juno (the Goddeſs [30] of Honour) is ſent for her; and when invited to the Bed-Chamber of Paris, Venus is to beckon her out of the Com⯑pany. The Forms they take to carry on theſe different Af⯑fairs, are properly choſen: the one aſſuming the Perſon of the Daughter of Antenor, who preſs'd moſt for her being re⯑ſtor'd to Menelaus; the other the Shape of an old Maid, who was privy to the Intrigue with Paris from the begin⯑ning. And in the Conſequences, as the one inſpires the Love of her former Empire, Friends and Country; ſo the other inſtills the Dread of being caſt off by all if ſhe for⯑ſook her ſecond Choice, and cauſes the Return of her Ten⯑derneſs to Paris. But if ſhe has a Struggle for Honour, ſhe is in a Bondage to Love; which gives the Story its Turn that way, and makes Venus oftner appear than Iris. There is in one Place a Lover to be protected, in another a Love-Quarrel to be made up, in both which the Goddeſs is kindly officious. She conveys Paris to Troy when he had eſcap'd the Enemy; which may hint his Love for his Miſtreſs, that hurry'd him away to juſtify himſelf before her. She ſoftens and terrifies Helen, in order to make up the Breach between them: And even when that Affair is finiſhed, we do not find the Poet diſmiſſes her from the Chamber, whatever Privacies the Lovers had a mind to: In which Circumſtance he ſeems to draw aſide the Veil of his Allegory, and to let the Reader at laſt into this Meaning of it, that the Goddeſs of Love has been all the while nothing more than the Paſſion of it.
THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.
[]The ARGUMENT.
The Breach of the Truce, and the firſt Battel.
[]THE Gods deliberate in Council concerning the Trojan War: They agree upon the Continuation of it, and Jupiter ſends down Minerva to break the Truce. She perſuades Pandarus to aim an Arrow at Menelaus, who is wounded, but cured by Machaon. In the mean time ſome of the Trojan Troops attack the Greeks. Agamemnon is diſtinguiſhed in all the Parts of a good General; he reviews the Troops and exhorts the Leaders, ſome by Praiſes and others by Reproofs. Neſtor is particularly celebrated for his military Diſcipline. The Battel joins, and great Numbers are ſlain on both ſides.
The ſame Day continues thro' this, as thro' the laſt Book (as it does alſo thro' the two following, and almoſt to the end of the ſeventh Book.) The Scene is wholly in the Field before Troy.
THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.
[1]OBSERVATIONS ON THE Fourth Book.
[1]OBSERVATIONS ON THE FOURTH BOOK.
[]I.
IT was from the beginning of this Book that Virgil has taken that of his tenth Aeneid, as the whole Tenour of the Story in this and the laſt Book is followed in his twelfth. The Truce and the ſolemn Oath, the Breach of it by a Dart thrown by Tolumnius, Juturna's inciting the La⯑tines to renew the War, the Wound of Aeneas, his ſpeedy Cure, and the Battel enſuing, all theſe are manifeſtly copied from hence. The Solemnity, Surprize, and Variety of theſe Circumſtances ſeem'd to him of Importance enough, to build the whole Cata⯑ſtrophe of his Work upon them; tho' in Homer they are but Openings to the general Action, and ſuch as in their Warmth are ſtill exceeded by all that follows them. They are choſen, we grant, by Virgil with great Judgment, and conclude his Poem with a becoming Majeſty: Yet the finiſhing his Scheme with that which is but the cooleſt Part of Homer's Action, tends in ſome degree to ſhew the Diſparity of the Poetical Fire in theſe two Authors.
II.
‘VERSE 3. Immortal Hebe.]’ The Goddeſs of Youth is in⯑troduc'd as an Attendant upon the Banquets of the Gods, to [2] ſhew that the divine Beings enjoy an eternal Youth, and that their Life is a Felicity without end. Dacier.
III.
‘VERSE 9. Two Pow'rs Divine.]’ Jupiter's reproaching theſe two Goddeſſes with neglecting to aſſiſt Menelaus, proceeds (as M. Dacier remarks) from the Affection he bore to Troy: Since if Menelaus by their help had gain'd a compleat Vic⯑tory, the Siege had been rais'd, and the City deliver'd. On the contrary, Juno and Minerva might ſuffer Paris to eſcape, as the Method to continue the War to the total Deſtruction of Troy. And accordingly a few Lines after we find them com⯑plotting together, and contriving a new Scene of Miſeries to the Trojans.
IV.
‘VERSE 18. Tho' great Atrides gain'd the glorious Strife.]’ Ju⯑piter here makes it a Queſtion, Whether the foregoing Com⯑bate ſhould determine the Controverſy, or the Peace be bro⯑ken. His putting it thus, that Paris is not killed, but Mene⯑laus has the Victory, gives a Hint for a Diſpute whether the Conditions of the Treaty were valid or annulled; that is to ſay, whether the Controverſy was to be determined by the Victory or by the Death of one of the Combatants. Ac⯑cordingly it has been diſputed whether the Articles were really binding to the Trojans or not? Plutarch has treated the Queſtion in his Sympoſiacks l. 9. qu. 13. The Subſtance is this. In the firſt Propoſal of the Challenge Paris mentions only the Victory, And who his Rival ſhall in Arms ſubdue: Nor does Hector who carries it ſay any more. However Me⯑nelaus underſtands it of the Death, by what he replies: Fall he that muſt beneath his Rival's Arms, And live the reſt—Iris to Helen ſpeaks only of the former; and Idaeus to Priam re⯑peats the ſame Words. But in the ſolemn Oath Agamemnon ſpecifies the latter, If by Paris ſlain—and If by my Brother's Arms the Trojan bleed. Priam alſo underſtands it of both, ſaying at his leaving the Field, What Prince ſhall fall Heav'n [3] only knows—(I do not cite the Greek becauſe the Engliſh has preſerv'd the ſame Nicety.) Paris himſelf confeſſes he has loſt the Victory, in his Speech to Helen, which he would hardly have done had the whole depended on that alone: And laſtly Menelaus (after the Conqueſt is clearly his by the Flight of Paris) is ſtill ſearching round the Field to kill him, as if all were of no effect without the Death of his Adverſary. It appears from hence that the Trojans had no ill Pretence to break the Treaty, ſo that Homer ought not to have been directly accus'd of making Jupiter the Author of Perjury in what follows, which is one of the Chief of Plato's Objections againſt him.
V.
‘VERSE 31. Tho' ſecret Anger ſwell'd Minerva's Breaſt]’ Spondanus takes notice that Minerva, who in the firſt Book had reſtrain'd the Anger of Achilles, had now an Opportu⯑nity of exerting the ſame Conduct in reſpect to herſelf. We may bring the Parallel cloſe, by obſerving that ſhe had be⯑fore her in like manner a Superior, who had provok'd her by ſharp Expreſſions, and whoſe Counſels ran againſt her Sentiments. In all which the Poet takes care to preſerve her ſtill in the Practice of that Wiſdom of which ſhe was Goddeſs.
VI.
‘VERSE 55. Let Priam bleed, &c.]’ We find in Perſius's Sa⯑tyrs the Name of Labeo, as an ill Poet who made a miſera⯑ble Tranſlation of the Iliad; one of whoſe Verſes is ſtill pre⯑ſerv'd, and happens to be that of this Place.‘Crudum manduces Priamum, Priamique piſinnos.’ It may ſeem from this, that his Tranſlation was ſervilely li⯑teral (as the old Scholiaſt on Perſius obſerves.) And one cannot but take notice that Ogilby's and Hobbes's in this Place are not unlike Labeo's.
VII.
‘VERSE 61. But ſhould this Arm prepare to wreak our Hate On thy lov'd Towns—]’ Homer in this Place has made Jupiter to prophecy the Deſtruction of Mycenae the favour'd City of Juno, which happen'd a little before the Time of our Author. Strab. l. 8. The Trojan War being over, and the Kingdom of Agamemnon deſtroy'd, Mycenae daily decreas'd after the Return of the He⯑raclidae: For theſe becoming Maſters of Peloponneſus, caſt out the old Inhabitants; ſo that they who poſſeſs'd Argos overcame Mycenae alſo, and contracted both into one Body. A ſhort time after, Mycenae was deſtroy'd by the Argives, and not the leaſt Remains of it are now to be found.
VIII.
‘VERSE 96. Th'Advice approv'd.]’ This is one of the Places for which Homer is blamed by Plato, who introduces Socrates reprehending it in his Dialogue of the Republick. And in⯑deed if it were granted that the Trojans had no Right to break this Treaty, the preſent Machine where Juno is made to propoſe Perjury, Jupiter to allow it, and Minerva to be commiſſion'd to haſten the Execution of it, would be one of the hardeſt to be reconciled to reaſon in the whole Poem. Unleſs even then one might imagine, that Homer's Heaven is ſometimes no more than an Ideal World of abſtracted Beings; and ſo every Motion which riſes in the Mind of Man is attri⯑buted to the Quality to which it belongs, with the Name of the Deity who is ſuppos'd to preſide over that Quality ſuper⯑added to it. In this Senſe the preſent Allegory is eaſy enough. Pandarus thinks it Prudence to gain Honour and Wealth at the Hands of the Trojans by deſtroying Menelaus. This Sen⯑timent is alſo incited by a Notion of Glory, of which Juno is repreſented as Goddeſs. Jupiter who is ſuppos'd to know [5] the Thoughts of Men, permits the Action which he is not Author of, but ſends a Prodigy at the ſame time to give warn⯑ing of a coming Miſchief, and accordingly we find both Ar⯑mies deſcanting upon the ſight of it in the following Lines.
IX.
‘VERSE 120. Pandarus for Strength renown'd.]’ Homer, ſays Plutarch in his Treatiſe of the Pythian Oracle, makes not the Gods to uſe all Perſons indifferently as their ſecond Agents, but each according to the Powers he is endu'd with by Art or Nature. For a Proof of this, he puts us in Mind how Mi⯑nerva when ſhe would perſuade the Greeks, ſeeks for Ulyſſes; when ſhe would break the Truce, for Pandarus; and when ſhe would conquer, for Diomed. If we conſult the Scholia upon this Inſtance, they give ſeveral Reaſons why Pandarus was particularly proper for the Occaſion. The Goddeſs went not to the Trojans, becauſe they hated Paris, and (as we are told in the end of the foregoing Book) would rather have given him up, than have done an ill Action for him: She therefore looks among the Allies, and finds Pandarus who was of a Nation noted for Perfidiouſneſs, and had a Soul ava⯑ricious enough to be capable of engaging in this Treachery for the hopes of a Reward from Paris: as appears by his be⯑ing ſo covetous as not to bring Horſes to the Siege for fear of the Expence or Loſs of them; as he tells Aeneas in the fifth Book.
X.
‘VERSE 141. Sixteen Palms.]’ Both the Horns together made this Length; and not each, as Madam Dacier renders it. I do not object it as an Improbability that the Horns were of ſixteen Palms each; but that this would be an extra⯑vagant and unmanageable Size for a Bow, is evident.
XI.
‘VERSE 144. This, by the Greeks unſeen, the Warrior bends.]’ The Poet having held us thro' the foregoing Book in Expec⯑tation [6] of a Peace, makes the Conditions be here broken af⯑ter ſuch a manner, as ſhould oblige the Greeks to act thro' the War with that irreconcileable Fury which affords him the Opportunity of exerting the full Fire of his own Genius. The Shot of Pandarus being therefore of ſuch Conſequence (and as he calls it, the [...], the Foundation of future Woes) it was thought fit not to paſs it over in a few Words, like the Flight of every common Arrow, but to give it a Deſcrip⯑tion ſome way correſponding to its Importance. For this, he ſurrounds it with a Train of Circumſtances; the Hiſtory of the Bow, the bending it, the covering Pandarus with Shields, the Choice of the Arrow, the Prayer, and Poſture of the Shooter, the Sound of the String, and Flight of the Shaft; all moſt beautifully, and livelily painted. It may be obſerved too, how proper a time it was to expatiate in theſe Particulars; when the Armies being unemploy'd, and only one Man acting, the Poet and his Readers had leiſure to be the Spectators of a ſingle and deliberate Action. I think it will be allow'd that the little Circumſtances which are ſome⯑times thought too redundant in Homer, have a wonderful Beauty in this Place. Virgil has not fail'd to copy it, and with the greateſt Happineſs imaginable.
XII.
‘VERSE 160. Pallas aſſiſts, and weaken'd in its force Diverts the Weapon—]’ For ſhe only deſigned, by all this Action, to encreaſe the Glory of the Greeks in the taking of Troy: Yet ſome Commentators have been ſo ſtupid as to wonder that Pallas ſhould be employ'd firſt in the wounding of Me⯑nelaus, and after in the protecting him.
XIII.
[7]‘VERSE 163. Wafts the wing'd Hornet.]’ This is one of thoſe humble Compariſons which Homer ſometimes uſes to diverſify his Subject, but a very exact one in its kind, and correſponding in all its Parts. The Care of the Goddeſs, the unſuſpecting Security of Menelaus, the Eaſe with which ſhe diverts the Danger, and the Danger itſelf, are all included in this ſhort Compaſs. To which it may be added, that if the Providence of heavenly Powers to their Creatures is expreſt by the Love of a Mother to her Child, if Men in regard to them are but as heedleſs ſleeping Infants, and if thoſe Dangers which may ſeem great to us, are by them as eaſily warded off as the Simile implies; there will appear ſomething ſublime in this Conception, however little or low the Image may be thought at firſt ſight in reſpect to a Heroe. A higher Compariſon would but have tended to leſſen the Diſ⯑parity between the Gods and Man, and the Juſtneſs of the Simile had been loſt, as well as the Grandeur of the Sentiment.
XIV.
‘VERSE 170. As when ſome ſtately Trappings, &c.]’ Some have judg'd the Circumſtances in this Simile to be ſuperflu⯑ous, and think it foreign to the Purpoſe to take notice that this Ivory was intended for the Boſſes of a Bridle, was laid up for a Prince, or that a Woman of Caria or Meonia dy'd it. Euſtathius was of a different Opinion, who extols this Paſſage for the Variety it preſents, and the Learning it includes: We learn from hence that the Lydians and Carians were famous in the firſt Times for their ſtaining in Purple, and that the Women excell'd in Works of Ivory: As alſo that there were certain Ornaments which only Kings and Princes were privileged to wear. But without having recourſe to Antiquities to juſtify this Particular, it may be alledg'd, that the Simile does not conſiſt barely in the Colours; It was but little to tell us, that the Blood of Menelaus appearing on the Whiteneſs of his Skin, vyed with the purpled Ivory; but this [8] implies that the honourable Wounds of a Heroe are the beau⯑tiful Dreſs of War, and become him as much as the moſt gallant Ornaments in which he takes the Field. Virgil, 'tis true, has omitted the Circumſtance in his Imitation of this Compariſon, Aen. 12.
But in this he judges only for himſelf, and does not condemn Homer. It was by no means proper that his Ivory ſhould have been a Piece of martial Accoutrement, when he apply'd it ſo differently, transferring it from the Wounds of a Heroe to the Bluſhes of the fair Lavinia.
XV.
‘VERSE 177. As down thy ſnowy Thigh.]’ Homer is very particular here, in giving the Picture of the Blood running in a long Trace, lower and lower, as will appear from the Words themſelves.
The Tranſlator has not thought fit to mention every one of theſe Parts, firſt the Thigh, then the Leg, then the Foot, which might be tedious in Engliſh: But the Author's Deſign being only to image the ſtreaming of the Blood, it ſeem'd equivalent to make it trickle thro' the Length of an Alex⯑andrine Line.
XVI.
‘VERSE 186. Oh dear as Life, &c.]’ This Incident of the Wound of Menelaus gives occaſion to Homer to draw a fine Deſcription of fraternal Love in Agamemnon. On the firſt ſight of it, he is ſtruck with Amaze and Confuſion, and now breaks out in Tenderneſs and Grief. He firſt accuſes himſelf [9] as the Cauſe of this Misfortune, by having conſented to ex⯑poſe his Brother to the ſingle Combate which had drawn on this fatal Conſequence. Next he inveighs againſt the Trojans in general for their Perfidiouſneſs, as not yet knowing it was the Act of Pandarus only. He then comforts himſelf with the Confidence that the Gods will revenge him upon Troy; but doubts by what Hands this Puniſhment may be inflicted, as fearing the Death of Menelaus will force the Greeks to return with Shame to their Country. There is no Contradic⯑tion in all this, but on the other ſide a great deal of Nature, in the confuſed Sentiments of Agamemnon on the occaſion, as they are very well explained by Spondanus.
XVII.
‘VERSE 212. While ſome proud Trojan, &c.]’ Agamemnon here calls to mind how, upon the Death of his Brother, the ineffectual Preparations and Actions againſt Troy muſt become a Deriſion to the World. This is in its own Nature a very irritating Sentiment, tho' it were never ſo careleſly expreſt; but the Poet has found out a peculiar Air of Aggravation, in making him bring all the Conſequences before his Eyes, in a Picture of their Trojan Enemies gathering round the Tomb of the unhappy Menelaus, elated with Pride, inſulting the Dead, and throwing out diſdainful Expreſſions and Curſes againſt him and his Family. There is nothing which could more effectually repreſent a State of Anguiſh, than the draw⯑ing ſuch an Image as this, which ſhews a Man increaſing his preſent Unhappineſs by the Proſpect of a future Train of Miſ⯑fortunes.
XVIII.
‘VERSE 222. Let not thy Words the Warmth of Greece abate.]’ In Agamemnon, Homer has ſhewn an Example of a tender Na⯑ture and fraternal Affection, and now in Menelaus he gives us one of a generous warlike Patience and Preſence of Mind. He ſpeaks of his own Caſe with no other Regard, but as this Accident of his Wound may tend to the Diſcouragement of [10] the Soldiers; and exhorts the General to beware of dejecting their Spirits from the Proſecution of the War. Spondanus.
XIX.
‘VERSE 253. The Trojans ruſh tumultuous to the War.]’ They advanced to the Enemy in the Belief that the Shot of Pandarus was made by Order of the Generals. Dacier.
XX.
‘VERSE 256. Nor had you ſeen.]’ The Poet here changes his Narration, and turns himſelf to the Reader in an Apo⯑ſtrophe. Longinus in his 22d Chapter commends this Figure, as cauſing a Reader to become a Spectator, and keeping his Mind fixed upon the Action before him. The Apoſtrophe (ſays he) renders us more awaken'd, more attentive, and more full of the Thing deſcribed. Madam Dacier will have it, that it is the Muſe who addreſſes herſelf to the Poet in the ſecond Perſon: 'Tis no great matter which, ſince it has equally its Effect either way.
XXI.
‘VERSE 264. Thro' all the martial Ranks he moves, &c.]’ In the following Review of the Army, which takes up a great Part of this Book, we ſee all the Spirit, Art, and Induſtry of a compleat General; together with the proper Characters of thoſe Leaders whom he incites. Agamemnon conſiders at this ſudden Exigence, that he ſhould firſt addreſs himſelf to all in general; he divides his Diſcourſe to the Brave and the Fearful, uſing Arguments which ariſe from Confidence or Deſpair, Paſſions which act upon us moſt forcibly: To the Brave, he urges their ſecure Hopes of Conqueſt ſince the Gods muſt puniſh Perjury; to the Timorous, their inevitable De⯑ſtruction if the Enemy ſhould burn their Ships. After this he flies from Rank to Rank, applying himſelf to each Ally with par⯑ticular Artifice: He careſſes Idomeneus as an old Friend who had promiſed not to forſake him; and meets with an Anſwer [11] in that Hero's true Character, ſhort, honeſt, hearty, and Soldier-like. He praiſes the Ajaxes as Warriors whoſe Exam⯑ples fired the Army; and is received by them without any Reply, as they were Men who did not profeſs Speaking. He paſſes next to Neſtor, whom he finds talking to his Soldiers as he marſhal'd them; here he was not to part without a Compliment on both ſides; he wiſhes him the Strength he had once in his Youth, and is anſwer'd with an Account of ſomething which the old Heroe had done in his former Days. From hence he goes to the Troops which lay fartheſt from the Place of Action; where he finds Meneſtheus and Ulyſſes, not intirely unprepar'd nor yet in Motion, as being ignorant of what had happen'd. He reproves Ulyſſes for this, with Words agreeable to the Hurry he is in, and receives an An⯑ſwer which ſuits not ill with the twofold Character of a wiſe and a valiant Man: Hereupon Agamemnon appears preſent to himſelf, and excuſes his haſty Expreſſions. The next he meets is Diomed, whom he alſo rebukes for Backwardneſs but af⯑ter another manner, by ſetting before him the Example of his Father. Thus is Agamemnon introduced, praiſing, terri⯑fying, exhorting, blaming, excuſing himſelf, and again re⯑lapſing into Reproofs; a lively Picture of a great Mind in the higheſt Emotion. And at the ſame time the Variety is ſo kept up, with a regard to the different Characters of the Lea⯑ders, that our Thoughts are not tired with running along with him over all his Army.
XXII.
‘VERSE 296. For this, in Banquets.]’ The Ancients uſually in their Feaſts divided to the Gueſts by equal Portions, except when they took ſome particular occaſion to ſhew Diſtinction and give the Preference to any one Perſon. It was then look'd upon as the higheſt Mark of Honour to be allotted the beſt Portion of Meat and Wine, and to be allowed an Ex⯑emption from the Laws of the Feaſt, in drinking Wine un⯑mingled and without Stint. This Cuſtom was much more ancient than the time of the Trojan War, and we find it prac⯑tiſed in the Banquet given by Joſeph to his Brethren in Ae⯑gypt, [12] Gen. 43. ℣. ult. And he ſent Meſſes to them from before him, but Benjamin's Meſs was five times ſo much as any of theirs. Dacier.
XXIII.
‘VERSE 336. There rev'rend Neſtor ranks his Pylian Bands.]’ This is the Prince whom Homer chiefly celebrates for mar⯑tial Diſcipline, of the reſt he is content to ſay they were va⯑liant and ready to fight: The Years, long Obſervation and Experience of Neſtor render'd him the fitteſt Perſon to be di⯑ſtinguiſhed on this account. The Diſpoſition of his Troops in this Place (together with what he is made to ſay, that their Fore-fathers uſed the ſame Method) may be a Proof that the Art of War was well known in Greece before the Time of Homer. Nor indeed can it be imagined otherwiſe, in an Age when all the World made their Acquiſitions by Force of Arms only. What is moſt to be wonder'd at, is, that they had not the uſe of Cavalry, all Men engaging either on Foot, or from Chariots (a Particular neceſſary to be known by every Reader of Homer's Battels.) In theſe Chariots there were al⯑ways two Perſons, one of whom only fought, the other was wholly employ'd in managing the Horſes. Madam Dacier in her excellent Preface to Homer is of Opinion, that there were no Horſemen 'till near the Time of Saul, threeſcore Years after the Siege of Troy; ſo that altho' Cavalry were in uſe in Homer's Days, yet he thought himſelf obliged to re⯑gard the Cuſtoms of the Age of which he writ, rather than thoſe of his own.
XXIV.
‘VERSE 344. The middle Space ſuſpected Troops ſupply.]’ This Artifice, of placing thoſe Men whoſe Behaviour was moſt to be doubted, in the middle, (ſo as to put them under a neceſſity of engaging even againſt their Inclinations) was followed by Hannibal in the Battel of Zama; as is obſerved and praiſed by Polybius, who quotes this Verſe on that occa⯑ſion in Acknowledgment of Homer's Skill in military Diſcipline. [13] That our Author was the firſt Maſter of that Art in Greece is the Opinion of Aelian, Tactic. c. 1. Frontinus gives us ano⯑ther Example of Pyrrhus King of Epirus's following this In⯑ſtruction of Homer. Vide Stratag. lib. 2. c. 3. So Ammianus Marcellinus l. 14. Imperator catervis peditum infirmis, medium inter acies ſpacium, ſecundùm Homericam diſpoſitionem, prae⯑ſtituit.
XXV.
The Words in the Original are capable of four different Sig⯑nifications, as Euſtathius obſerves. The firſt is, that whoever in fighting upon his Chariot ſhall win a Chariot from his Enemy, he ſhall continue to fight, and not retire from the Engagement to ſecure his Prize. The ſecond, that if any one be thrown out of his Chariot, he who happens to be neareſt ſhall hold forth his Javelin to help him up into his own. The third is directly the contrary to the laſt, that if any one be caſt from his Chariot and would mount up into another Man's, that other ſhall puſh him back with his Javelin, and not admit him for fear of interrupting the Com⯑bate. The fourth is the Senſe which is followed in the Tranſ⯑lation as ſeeming much the moſt natural, that every one ſhould be left to govern his own Chariot, and the other who is admitted fight only with the Javelin. The reaſon of this Advice appears by the Speech of Pandarus to Aeneas in the next Book: Aeneas having taken him up into his Chariot to go againſt Diomed, compliments him with the Choice ei⯑ther to fight, or to manage the Reins, which was eſteem'd an Office of Honour. To this Pandarus anſwers, that it is more proper for Aeneas to guide his own Horſes; leſt they not feeling their accuſtomed Maſter, ſhould be ungovernable and bring them into Danger.
Upon occaſion of the various and contrary Significations of which theſe Words are ſaid to be capable, and which Eu⯑ſtathius and Dacier profeſs to admire as an Excellence; Monſ. [14] de la Motte in his late Diſcourſe upon Homer very juſtly ani⯑madverts, that if this be true, it is a grievous Fault in Homer. For what can be more abſurd than to imagine, that the Orders given in a Battel ſhould be delivered in ſuch ambiguous Terms, as to be capable of many Meanings? Theſe double Interpre⯑tations muſt proceed not from any deſign in the Author, but purely from the Ignorance of the Moderns in the Greek Tongue: It being impoſſible for any one to poſſeſs the dead Languages to ſuch a degree, as to be certain of all the Gra⯑ces and Negligences; or to know preciſely how far the Li⯑cences and Boldneſſes of Expreſſion were happy, or forced. But Criticks, to be thought learned, attribute to the Poet all the random Senſes that amuſe them, and imagine they ſee in a ſingle Word a whole heap of Things, which no modern Language can expreſs; ſo are oftentimes charmed with no⯑thing but the Confuſion of their own Ideas.
XXVI.
‘VERSE 385. Remote their Forces lay.]’ This is a Reaſon why the Troops of Ulyſſes and Meneſtheus were not yet in Motion. Tho' another may be added in reſpect to the for⯑mer, that it did not conſiſt with the Wiſdom of Ulyſſes to fall on with his Forces 'till he was well aſſured. Tho' Courage be no inconſiderable Part of his Character, yet it is always join'd with great Caution. Thus we ſee him ſoon after in the very Heat of a Battel, when his Friend was juſt ſlain be⯑fore his Eyes, firſt looking carefully about him, before he would throw his Spear to revenge him.
XXVII.
‘VERSE 431. I ſaw him once, when, &c.]’ This long Nar⯑ration concerning the Hiſtory of Tydeus, is not of the Nature of thoſe for which Homer has been blam'd with ſome Colour of Juſtice: It is not a cold Story but a warm Reproof, while the particulariſing the Actions of the Father is made the higheſt Incentive to the Son. Accordingly the Air of this [15] Speech ought to be inſpirited above the common Narrative Style. As for the Story itſelf, it is finely told by Statius in the ſecond Book of the Thebais.
XXVIII.
‘VERSE 453. No Words the Godlike Diomed return'd.]’ ‘"When Diomed is reproved by Agamemnon, he holds his Peace in reſpect to his General, but Sthenelus retorts upon him with Boaſting and Inſolence. It is here worth obſerving in what manner Agamemnon behaves himſelf; he paſſes by Sthenelus without affording any Reply; whereas juſt before, when Ulyſſes teſtify'd his Reſentment, he immediately re⯑turn'd him an Anſwer. For as it is a mean and ſervile thing, and unbecoming the Majeſty of a Prince, to make Apologies to every Man in Juſtification of what he has ſaid or done; ſo to treat all Men with equal Neglect is meer Pride and Exceſs of Folly. We alſo ſee of Diomed, that tho' he refrains from ſpeaking in this Place when the Time demanded Action; he afterwards expreſſes himſelf in ſuch a manner, as ſhews him not to have been inſenſi⯑ble of this unjuſt Rebuke: (as in the ninth Book) when he tells the King, he was the firſt who had dar'd to reproach him with want of Courage."’ Plutarch of reading the Poets.
XXIX.
‘VERSE 461. We ſtorm'd the Theban Wall.]’ The firſt Theban War, of which Agamemnon ſpoke in the preceding Lines, was ſeven and twenty Years before the War of Troy. Sthenelus here ſpeaks of the ſecond Theban War, which hap⯑pen'd ten Years after the firſt: when the Sons of the ſeven Captains conquer'd the City, before which their Fathers were deſtroyed. Tydeus expired gnawing the Head of his Ene⯑my, and Capaneus was Thunder-ſtruck while he blaſphemed Jupiter. Vid. Stat. Thebaid.
XXX.
[16]‘VERSE 479. As when the Winds.]’ Madam Dacier thinks it may ſeem ſomething odd, that an Army going to conquer ſhould be compared to the Waves going to break themſelves againſt the Shore; and would ſolve the appearing Abſurdity by imagining the Poet laid not the Streſs ſo much upon this Circumſtance, as upon the ſame Waves aſſaulting a Rock, lifting themſelves over its Head, and covering it with Foam as the Trophy of their Victory (as ſhe expreſſes it.) But to this it may be anſwer'd, that neither did the Greeks get the better in this Battel, nor will a Compariſon be allowed in⯑tirely beautiful, which inſtead of illuſtrating its Subject ſtands itſelf in need of ſo much Illuſtration and Refinement, to be brought to agree with it. The Paſſage naturally bears this Senſe. As when, upon the riſing of the Wind, the Waves roll after one another to the Shore; at firſt there is a diſtant Motion in the Sea, then they approach to break with Noiſe on the Strand, and laſtly riſe ſwelling over the Rocks, and toſs their Foam above their Heads: So the Greeks, at firſt, marched in order one after another ſilently to the Fight—Where the Poet breaks off from proſecuting the Compariſon, and by a Pro⯑lepſis, leaves the Reader to carry it on; and image to him⯑ſelf the future Tumult, Rage, and Force of the Battel, in Oppoſition to that Silence in which he deſcribes the Troops at preſent, in the Lines immediately enſuing. What con⯑firms this Expoſition is, that Virgil has made uſe of the Simile in the ſame Senſe in the ſeventh Aeneid.
XXXI.
‘VERSE 479. As when the Winds, &c.]’ This is the firſt Battel in Homer, and it is worthy Obſervation with what Grandeur it is deſcribed, and raiſed by one Circumſtance [17] above another, 'till all is involved in Horror and Tumult: The foregoing Simile of the Winds, riſing by degrees into a general Tempeſt, is an Image of the Progreſs of his own Spi⯑rit in this Deſcription. We ſee firſt an innumerable Army moving in order, and are amus'd with the Pomp and Silence, then waken'd with the Noiſe and Clamour; next they join, the adverſe Gods are let down among them; the Imaginary Perſons of Terror, Flight, Diſcord ſucceed to re-inforce them; then all is undiſtinguiſh'd Fury and a Confuſion of Horrors, only that at different Openings we behold the diſtinct Deaths of ſeveral Heroes, and then are involv'd again in the ſame Confuſion.
XXXII.
‘VERSE 503. Diſcord, dire Siſter, &c.]’ This is the Paſſage ſo highly extoll'd by Longinus, as one of the moſt ſignal In⯑ſtances of the noble Sublimity of this Author: where it is ſaid, that the Image here drawn of Diſcord, whoſe Head touch'd the Heavens, and whoſe Feet were on Earth, may as juſtly be apply'd to the vaſt Reach and Elevation of the Ge⯑nius of Homer. But Monſ. Boileau informs us that neither the Quotation nor theſe Words were in the Original of Lon⯑ginus, but partly inſerted by Gabriel de Petra. However the beſt Encomium is, that Virgil has taken it word for word, and apply'd it to the Perſon of Fame.
Ariſtides had formerly blamed Homer for admitting Diſcord into Heaven, and Scaliger takes up the Criticiſm to throw him below Virgil. Fame (he ſays) is properly feign'd to hide her Head in the Clouds, becauſe the Grounds and Authors of Rumours are commonly unknown. As if the ſame might not be alledg'd for Homer, ſince the Grounds and Authors of Diſcord are often no leſs ſecret. Macrobius has put this among the Paſſages where he thinks Virgil has fallen ſhort in his Imitation of Homer, and brings theſe Reaſons for his [18] Opinion. Homer repreſents Diſcord to riſe from ſmall be⯑ginnings, and afterwards in her Encreaſe to reach the Hea⯑vens: Virgil has ſaid this of Fame, but not with equal Pro⯑priety; for the Subjects are very different. Diſcord, tho' it reaches to War and Devaſtation, is ſtill Diſcord; nor ceaſes to be what it was at firſt. But Fame, when it grows to be univerſal, is Fame no longer, but becomes Knowledge and Certainty. For who calls any thing Fame, which is known from Earth to Heaven? Nor has Virgil equal'd the Strength of Homer's Hyperbole, for one ſpeaks of Heaven, the other only of the Clouds. Macrob. Sat. l. 5. c. 13. Scaliger is very angry at this laſt Period, and by miſtake blames Gellius for it, in whom there is no ſuch thing. His Words are ſo inſolently dogmatical, that barely to quote them is to anſwer them, and the only Anſwer which ſuch a Spirit of Criticiſm deſerves. Clamant quòd Maro de Fama dixit eam inter nubila caput condere, cùm tamen Homerus unde ipſe accepit, in coelo caput Eridis conſtituit. Jam tibi pro me reſpondeo. Non ſum imitatus, nolo imitari: non placet, non eſt verum, Conten⯑tionem ponere caput in coelo. Ridiculum eſt, fatuum eſt, Ho⯑mericum eſt, Graeculum eſt. Poetic. l. 5. c. 3.
This fine Verſe was alſo criticiz'd by Monſ. Perault, who accuſes it as a forc'd and extravagant Hyperbole. M. Boileau anſwers, that Hyperboles as ſtrong are daily uſed even in common Diſcourſe, and that nothing is in effect more ſtrictly true than that Diſcord reigns over all the Earth, and in Hea⯑ven itſelf, that is to ſay, among the Gods of Homer. It is not (continues this excellent Critick) the Deſcription of a Giant, as this Cenſor would pretend, but a juſt Allegory; and as he makes Diſcord an allegorical Perſon, ſhe may be of what Size he pleaſes without ſhocking us; ſince it is what we regard only as an Idea and Creature of the Fancy, and not as a material Subſtance that has any Being in Nature. The Expreſſion in the Pſalms, that the impious Man is lifted up as a Cedar of Libanus, does by no means imply that the impi⯑ous Man was a Giant as tall as the Cedar. Thus far Boileau; and upon the whole we may obſerve, that it ſeems not only the Fate of great Genius's to have met with the moſt malig⯑nant Criticks, but of the fineſt and nobleſt Paſſages in them [19] to have been particularly pitch'd upon for impertinent Cri⯑ticiſms. Theſe are the divine Boldneſſes which in their very Nature provoke Ignorance and Short-ſightedneſs to ſhew themſelves; and which whoever is capable of attaining, muſt alſo certainly know, that they will be attack'd by ſuch as cannot reach them.
XXXIII.
‘VERSE 509. Now Shield with Shield, &c.]’ The Verſes which follow in the Original are perhaps excell'd by none in Homer; and that he had himſelf a particular Fondneſs for them, may be imagin'd from his inſerting them again in the ſame Words in the eighth Book. They are very happily imitated by Statius lib. 7.
XXXIV.
‘VERSE 517. As Torrents roll.]’ This Compariſon of Rivers meeting and roaring, with two Armies mingling in Battel, is an Image of that Nobleneſs, which (to ſay no more) was worthy the Invention of Homer and the Imitation of Virgil.
The word populatus here has a Beauty which one muſt be in⯑ſenſible not to obſerve. Scaliger prefers Virgil's, and Ma⯑crobius Homer's, without any Reaſons on either ſide, but only one Critick's poſitive Word againſt another's. The Reader may judge between them.
XXXV.
‘VERSE 523. The bold Antilochus.]’ Antilochus the Son of Neſtor is the firſt who begins the Engagement. It ſeems as [20] if the old Hero having done the greateſt Service he was ca⯑pable of at his Years, in diſpoſing the Troops in the beſt or⯑der (as we have ſeen before) had taken care to ſet his Son at the head of them, to give him the Glory of beginning the Battel.
XXXVI.
‘VERSE 540. As o'er their Prey rapacious Wolves engage.]’ This ſhort Compariſon in the Greek conſiſts only of two Words, [...], which Scaliger obſerves upon as too abrupt. But may it not be anſwer'd that ſuch a Place as this, where all things are in Confuſion, ſeems not to admit of any Si⯑mile, except of one which ſcarce exceeds a Metaphor in Length? When two Heroes are engag'd, there is a plain View to be given us of their Actions, and there a long Si⯑mile may be of uſe, to raiſe and enliven them by parallel Circumſtances; but when the Troops fall in promiſcuouſly upon one another, the Concluſion excludes diſtinct or parti⯑ticular Images, and conſequently Compariſons of any Length would be leſs natural.
XXXVII.
‘VERSE 542. In bloom of Youth fair Simoiſius fell.]’ This Prince receiv'd his Name from the River Simois on whoſe Banks he was born. It was the Cuſtom of the Eaſtern Peo⯑ple to give Names to their Children deriv'd from the moſt remarkable Accidents of their Birth. The holy Scripture is full of Examples of this kind. It is alſo uſual in the Old Teſtament to compare Princes to Trees, Cedars, &c. as Si⯑moiſius is here reſembled to a Poplar. Dacier.
XXXVIII.
‘VERSE 552. So falls a Poplar.]’ Euſtathius in Macrobius prefers to this Simile that of Virgil in the ſecond Aeneid.
Mr. Hobbes in the Preface to his Tranſlation of Homer has diſcours'd upon this Occaſion very judiciouſly. Homer (ſays he) intended no more in this Place than to ſhew how comely the Body of Simoiſius appear'd as he lay dead upon the Bank of Scamander, ſtrait and tall, with a fair Head of Hair, like a ſtrait and high Poplar with the Boughs ſtill on; and not at all to deſcribe the manner of his falling, which (when a Man is wounded thro' the Breaſt as he was with a Spear) is always ſudden. Virgil's is the Deſcription of a great Tree falling when many Men together hew it down. He meant to compare the manner how Troy after many Battels, and after the Loſs of many Cities, conquer'd by the many Nations under Agamemnon in a long War, was thereby wea⯑ken'd and at laſt overthrown, with a great Tree hewn round about, and then falling by little and little leiſurely. So that neither theſe two Deſcriptions nor the two Compariſons can be compared together. The Image of a Man lying on the Ground is one thing; the Image of falling (eſpecially of a Kingdom) is another. This therefore gives no Advantage to Virgil over Homer. Thus Mr. Hobbes.
XXXIX.
‘VERSE 585. But Phoebus now.]’ Homer here introduces Apollo on the ſide of the Trojans: He had given them the Aſſiſtance of Mars at the beginning of this Battel; but Mars (which ſignifies Courage without Conduct) proving too weak to reſiſt Minerva (or Courage with Conduct) which the Poet repreſents as conſtantly aiding his Greeks; they want ſome prudent Management to rally them again: He therefore brings in a Wiſdom to aſſiſt Mars, under the Ap⯑pearance of Apollo.
XL.
[22]‘VERSE 592. Achilles fights no more.]’ Homer from time to time puts his Readers in mind of Achilles, during his Abſence from the War; and finds occaſions of celebrating his Valour with the higheſt Praiſes. There cannot be a greater Enco⯑mium than this, where Apollo himſelf tells the Trojans they have nothing to fear, ſince Achilles fights no longer againſt them. Dacier.
XLI.
‘VERSE 630. Had ſome brave Chief.]’ The turning off in this Place from the Actions of the Field, to repreſent to us a Man with Security and Calmneſs walking thro' it, without being able to reprehend any thing in the whole Action; this is not only a fine Praiſe of the Battel, but as it were a Breath⯑ing-place to the Poetical Spirit of the Author, after having rapidly run along with the Heat of the Engagement: He ſeems like one who having got over a Part of his Journey, ſtops upon an Eminence to look back upon the Space he has paſs'd, and concludes the Book with an agreeable Pauſe or Reſpite.
The Reader will excuſe our taking notice of ſuch a Trifle, as that it was an old Superſtition, that this fourth Book of the Iliads being laid under the Head, was a Cure for the Quartan Ague. Serenus Sammonicus, a celebrated Phyſician in the time of the younger Gordian and Preceptor to that Emperor, has gravely preſcrib'd it among other Receipts in his medicinal Precepts, Praec. 50.‘Moeoniae Iliados quartum ſuppone timenti.’ I believe it will be found a true Obſervation, that there ne⯑ver was any thing ſo abſurd or ridiculous, but has at one time or other been written even by ſome Author of Reputa⯑tion: A Reflection it may not be improper for Writers to make, as being at once ſome Mortification to their Vanity, and ſome Comfort to their Infirmity.
Appendix A
DIEU ET MON DROIT
GEORGE, by the Grace of GOD, King of Great Britain, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c. To all to whom theſe Preſents ſhall come, Greeting. Whereas Our Truſty and Well-beloved BERNARD LINTOT of Our City of London, Bookſeller, has humbly repreſented unto Us that he is now printing a Tranſlation of the ILIAD of HOMER from the Greek in Six Volumes in Folio by ALEXANDER POPE Gent. with large Notes upon each Book: And whereas the ſaid BERNARD LINTOT has in⯑formed Us that he has been at a great Expence in carrying on the ſaid Work: and that the ſole Right and Title of the Copy of the ſaid Work is veſted in the ſaid BERNARD LINTOT: He has therefore humbly beſought Us to grant him Our Royal Privilege and Licence for the ſole printing and publiſhing thereof for the Term of fourteen Years. WE being graciouſly pleaſed to encourage ſo Uſeful a Work, are pleaſed to condeſcend to his Requeſt, and do therefore hereby give and grant unto the ſaid BERNARD LINTOT Our Royal Licence and Privilege for the ſole printing and publiſhing the ſaid Six Volumes of the ILIAD of HOMER tranſlated by the ſaid ALEXANDER POPE for and during the Term of fourteen Years, to be computed from the Day of the Date hereof; ſtrictly charging and prohibiting all Our Subjects within Our Kingdoms and Dominions to reprint or abridge the ſame either in the like or any other Volume or Volumes whatſo⯑ever, or to import, buy, vend, utter or diſtribute any Copies of the ſame or any part thereof reprinted beyond the Seas within the ſaid Term of fourteen Years, without the Conſent and Approbation of the ſaid BERNARD LINTOT, his Heirs, Executors and Aſſigns by Writing under his or their Hands and Seals firſt had and obtained, as they and every of them offending herein will anſwer the contrary at their Perils, and ſuch other Penalties as by the Laws and Statutes of this Our Realm may be inflicted: Whereof the Maſter, Wardens and Company of Stati⯑oners of our City of London, Commiſſioners and other Officers of our Cuſtoms, and all other our Officers and Miniſters whom it may concern, are to take Notice that due Obedience be given to Our Pleaſure herein ſignified. Given at Our Court at St. James's the ſixth Day of May, 1715. in the firſt Year of Our Reign.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4374 The Iliad of Homer Translated by Mr Pope pt 1. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5D98-1