The Iliad
best rule is, to be guided by the nearness, or distance, at which the
repetitions are placed in the original: when they follow too close, one
may vary the expression; but it is a question, whether a professed
translator be authorized to omit any: if they be tedious, 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 exquisite beauties of
poetry, and attainable by very few: I only know of Homer eminent for it
in the Greek, and Virgil in the Latin. I am sensible it is what may
sometimes happen by chance, when a writer is warm, and fully possessed
of his image: however, it may reasonably be believed they designed
this, in whose verse it so manifestly appears 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 endeavoured at this beauty.
Upon the whole, I must confess myself utterly incapable of doing
justice to Homer. I attempt 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 translation in verse has yet done. We have only those
of Chapman, Hobbes, and Ogilby. Chapman has taken 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 Odyssey, 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 Bussy d’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 arrogant turn, and an enthusiast in poetry.
His own boast, of having finished half the Iliad in less than fifteen
weeks, shows with what negligence his version was performed. But that
which is to be allowed him, and which very much contributed 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 arrived at years of discretion.
Hobbes has given us a correct explanation of the sense in general; but
for particulars and circumstances he continually lops them, and often
omits the most beautiful. As for its being esteemed 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 mentioned. He sometimes
omits whole similes and sentences; and is now and then guilty of
mistakes, into which no writer of his learning could have fallen, but
through carelessness. His poetry, 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 followed 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 language. But the fate of great geniuses is
like that of great ministers: though they are confessedly the first in
the commonwealth of letters, they must be envied 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
fulness and perspicuity; in the sentences, a shortness and gravity; not
to neglect even the little figures and turns on the words, nor
sometimes the very cast of the periods; neither to omit nor 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 further recommend to him is, to study his author rather from
his own text, than from any commentaries, how learned soever, or
whatever figure they may 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 a want either, is not in the nature of this
undertaking; since a mere 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 public; from whose opinions I am
prepared to learn; though 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 persons for whom they can have no kindness, if an old observation be
true, that the strongest antipathy in the world is that of fools to men
of wit. Mr. Addison was the first whose advice determined me to
undertake this task; who was pleased 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 recommendation of my undertaking to the
public. 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 criticisms, of Mr. Congreve, who had led me the way in
translating some parts of Homer. I must add the names of Mr. Rowe, and
Dr. Parnell, though I shall take a further opportunity of doing justice
to the last, whose good nature (to give it a great panegyric), 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
distinguished 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 honour to
the name of poet: that his grace the Duke of Buckingham was not
displeased I should undertake the author to whom he has given (in his
excellent Essay), so complete a praise:
“Read Homer once, and you can read no more;
For all books else appear so mean, so poor,
Verse will seem prose: but still persist to read,
And Homer will be all the books you need.”
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 distinguished in the great scenes of business,
than in all the useful and entertaining parts of learning, has not
refused to be the critic of these sheets, and the patron of their
writer: and that the noble author of the tragedy of “Heroic Love” has
continued his partiality to me, from my writing pastorals to my
attempting the Iliad. I cannot deny myself 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 being distinguished by the
Earl of Carnarvon; but it is almost absurd to particularize any one
generous action in a person whose whole life is a continued series of
them. Mr. Stanhope, the present secretary of state, will pardon my
desire of having it known that he was pleased to promote this affair.
The particular zeal of Mr. Harcourt (the son of the late Lord
Chancellor) gave me a proof how much I am honoured 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 rendered unnecessary by
the privileges of a familiar correspondence; and I am satisfied 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 shown me by its learned rival, the University of Oxford. And I
can hardly envy him those pompous honours he received after death, when
I reflect on the enjoyment of so many agreeable obligations, and easy
friendships, which make the satisfaction of life. This distinction is
the more to be acknowledged, as it is shown to one whose pen has never
gratified 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 experienced 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 follies, after a
manner neither wholly unuseful to others, nor disagreeable to myself.
THE ILIAD.
BOOK I.
ARGUMENT.[40]
THE CONTENTION OF ACHILLES AND AGAMEMNON.
In the war of Troy, the Greeks having sacked some of the neighbouring
towns, and taken from thence two beautiful captives, Chryseïs and
Briseïs, allotted the first to Agamemnon, and the last to Achilles.
Chryses, the father of Chryseïs, and priest of Apollo, comes to the
Grecian camp to ransom her; with which the action of the poem opens, in
the tenth year of the siege. The priest being refused, and insolently
dismissed by Agamemnon, entreats for vengeance from his god; who
inflicts a pestilence on the Greeks. Achilles calls a council, and
encourages Chalcas to declare the cause of it; who attributes it to the
refusal of Chryseïs. The king, being obliged to send back his captive,
enters into a furious contest with Achilles, which Nestor pacifies;
however, as he had the absolute command of the army, he seizes on