Chapter 8

Μυρομένω δ’ ἄρα τώ γε ἰδὼν, ἐλέησε Κρονίων.And with pity the son of Saturn saw them bewailing,And he shook his head, and thus addressed his own bosom.‘Ah, unhappy pair, to Peleus why did we give you,To a mortal? but ye are without old age and immortal.Was it that ye, with man, might have your thousands of sorrows?For than man, indeed, there breathes no wretcheder creature,Of all living things, that on earth are breathing and moving’.

Μυρομένω δ’ ἄρα τώ γε ἰδὼν, ἐλέησε Κρονίων.

And with pity the son of Saturn saw them bewailing,And he shook his head, and thus addressed his own bosom.‘Ah, unhappy pair, to Peleus why did we give you,To a mortal? but ye are without old age and immortal.Was it that ye, with man, might have your thousands of sorrows?For than man, indeed, there breathes no wretcheder creature,Of all living things, that on earth are breathing and moving’.

And with pity the son of Saturn saw them bewailing,

And he shook his head, and thus addressed his own bosom.

‘Ah, unhappy pair, to Peleus why did we give you,

To a mortal? but ye are without old age and immortal.

Was it that ye, with man, might have your thousands of sorrows?

For than man, indeed, there breathes no wretcheder creature,

Of all living things, that on earth are breathing and moving’.

Here I will observe that the use of ‘own’, in the second line for the last syllable of a dactyl, and the use of ‘To a’, in the fourth, for a complete spondee, though they do not, I think, actually spoil the run of the hexameter, are yet undoubtedly instances of that over-reliance on accent, and too free disregard of quantity, which Lord Redesdale visits with just reprehension[33].

I now take two longer passages in order to try my method more fully; but I still keep to passages which have already come under our notice. I quoted Chapman’s version of some passages in the speech of Hector at his parting with Andromache. One astounding conceit will probably still be in your remembrance,

When sacred Troy shallshed her tow’rs for tears of overthrow,

as a translation ofὅτ’ ἄν ποτ’ ὀλώλῃ Ἴλιος ἰρή. I will quote a few lines which will give you, also, the key-note to the Anglo-Augustan manner of rendering this passage and to the Miltonic manner of rendering it. What Mr Newman’s manner of rendering it would be, you can by this time sufficiently imagine for yourselves. Mr Wright,—to quote for once from his meritorious version instead of Cowper’s, whose strong and weak points are those of Mr Wright also,—Mr Wright begins his version of this passage thus:

All these thy anxious cares are also mine,Partner beloved; but how could I endureThe scorn of Trojans and their long-robed wives,Should they behold their Hector shrink from war,And act the coward’s part! Nor doth my soulPrompt the base thought.

All these thy anxious cares are also mine,

Partner beloved; but how could I endure

The scorn of Trojans and their long-robed wives,

Should they behold their Hector shrink from war,

And act the coward’s part! Nor doth my soul

Prompt the base thought.

Ex pede Herculem: you see just what the manner is. Mr Sotheby, on the other hand (to take a disciple of Pope instead of Pope himself), begins thus:

‘What moves thee, moves my mind,’ brave Hector said,‘Yet Troy’s upbraiding scorn I deeply dread,If, like a slave, where chiefs with chiefs engage,The warrior Hector fears the war to wage.Not thus my heart inclines.’

‘What moves thee, moves my mind,’ brave Hector said,

‘Yet Troy’s upbraiding scorn I deeply dread,

If, like a slave, where chiefs with chiefs engage,

The warrior Hector fears the war to wage.

Not thus my heart inclines.’

From that specimen, too, you can easily divine what, with such a manner, will become of the whole passage. But Homer has neither

What moves thee, moves my mind,

nor has he

All these thy anxious cares are also mine.Ἦ καὶ ἐμοὶ τάδε πάντα μέλει, γύναι· ἀλλὰ μάλ’ αἰνῶς,

All these thy anxious cares are also mine.

Ἦ καὶ ἐμοὶ τάδε πάντα μέλει, γύναι· ἀλλὰ μάλ’ αἰνῶς,

that is what Homer has, that is his style and movement, if one could but catch it. Andromache, as you know, has been entreating Hector to defend Troy from within the walls, instead of exposing his life, and, with his own life, the safety of all those dearest to him, by fighting in the open plain. Hector replies:

Woman, I too take thought for this; but then I bethink meWhat the Trojan men and Trojan women might murmur,If like a coward I skulked behind, apart from the battle.Nor would my own heart let me; my heart, which has bid me be valiantAlways, and always fighting among the first of the Trojans,Busy for Priam’s fame and my own, in spite of the future.For that day will come, my soul is assured of its coming,It will come, when sacred Troy shall go to destruction,Troy, and warlike Priam too, and the people of Priam.And yet not that grief, which then will be, of the Trojans,Moves me so much—not Hecuba’s grief, nor Priam my father’s,Nor my brethren’s, many and brave, who then will be lyingIn the bloody dust, beneath the feet of their foemen—As thy grief, when, in tears, some brazen-coated AchaianShall transport thee away, and the day of thy freedom be ended.Then, perhaps, thou shalt work at the loom of another, in Argos,Or bear pails to the well of Messeïs, or Hypereia,Sorely against thy will, by strong Necessity’s order.And some man may say, as he looks and sees thy tears falling:See, the wife of Hector, that great pre-eminent captainOf the horsemen of Troy, in the day they fought for their city.So some man will say; and then thy grief will redoubleAt thy want of a man like me, to save thee from bondage.But let me be dead, and the earth be mounded above me,Ere I hear thy cries, and thy captivity told of.

Woman, I too take thought for this; but then I bethink me

What the Trojan men and Trojan women might murmur,

If like a coward I skulked behind, apart from the battle.

Nor would my own heart let me; my heart, which has bid me be valiant

Always, and always fighting among the first of the Trojans,

Busy for Priam’s fame and my own, in spite of the future.

For that day will come, my soul is assured of its coming,

It will come, when sacred Troy shall go to destruction,

Troy, and warlike Priam too, and the people of Priam.

And yet not that grief, which then will be, of the Trojans,

Moves me so much—not Hecuba’s grief, nor Priam my father’s,

Nor my brethren’s, many and brave, who then will be lying

In the bloody dust, beneath the feet of their foemen—

As thy grief, when, in tears, some brazen-coated Achaian

Shall transport thee away, and the day of thy freedom be ended.

Then, perhaps, thou shalt work at the loom of another, in Argos,

Or bear pails to the well of Messeïs, or Hypereia,

Sorely against thy will, by strong Necessity’s order.

And some man may say, as he looks and sees thy tears falling:

See, the wife of Hector, that great pre-eminent captain

Of the horsemen of Troy, in the day they fought for their city.

So some man will say; and then thy grief will redouble

At thy want of a man like me, to save thee from bondage.

But let me be dead, and the earth be mounded above me,

Ere I hear thy cries, and thy captivity told of.

The main question, whether or no this version reproduces for him the movement and general effect of Homer better than other versions[34]of the same passage, I leave for the judgment of the scholar. But the particular points, in which the operation of my own rules is manifested, are as follows. In the second line I leave out the epithet of the Trojan womenἑλκεσιπέπλους, altogether. In the sixth line I put in five words ‘in spite of the future’, which are in the original by implication only, and are not there actually expressed. This I do, because Homer, as I have before said, is so remote from one who reads him in English, that the English translator must be even plainer, if possible, and more unambiguous than Homer himself; the connection of meaning must be even more distinctly marked in the translation than in the original. For in the Greek language itself there is something which brings one nearer to Homer, which gives one a clue to his thought, which makes a hint enough; but in the English language this sense of nearness, this clue, is gone; hints are insufficient, everything must be stated with full distinctness. In the ninth line Homer’s epithet for Priam isἐυμμελίω,—‘armed with good ashen spear’,say the dictionaries; ‘ashen-speared’, translates Mr Newman, following his own rule to ‘retain every peculiarity of his original’,—I say, on the other hand, that ἐυμμελίω has not the effect of a ‘peculiarity’ in the original, while ‘ashen-speared’ has the effect of a ‘peculiarity’ in English; and ‘warlike’ is as marking an equivalent as I dare give forἐυμμελίω, for fear of disturbing the balance of expression in Homer’s sentence. In the fourteenth line, again, I translateχαλκοχιτώνωνby ‘brazen-coated’. Mr Newman, meaning to be perfectly literal, translates it by ‘brazen-cloaked’, an expression which comes to the reader oddly and unnaturally, while Homer’s word comes to him quite naturally; but I venture to go as near to a literal rendering as ‘brazen-coated’, because a ‘coat of brass’ is familiar to us all from the Bible, and familiar, too, as distinctly specified in connection with the wearer. Finally, let me further illustrate from the twentieth line the value which I attach, in a question of diction, to the authority of the Bible. The word ‘pre-eminent’ occurs in that line; I was a little in doubt whether that was not too bookish an expression to be used in rendering Homer, as I can imagine Mr Newman to have been a little in doubt whether his ‘responsively accosted’ forἀμειβόμενος προσέφη, was not too bookish an expression. Let us both, I say, consult our Bibles: Mr Newman willnowhere find it in his Bible that David, for instance, ‘responsively accostedGoliath’; but I do find in mine that ‘the right hand of the Lord hath thepre-eminence’; and forthwith I use ‘pre-eminent’, without scruple. My Bibliolatry is perhaps excessive; and no doubt a true poetic feeling is the Homeric translator’s best guide in the use of words; but where this feeling does not exist, or is at fault, I think he cannot do better than take for a mechanical guide Cruden’sConcordance. To be sure, here as elsewhere, the consulter must know how to consult,—must know how very slight a variation of word or circumstance makes the difference between an authority in his favour, and an authority which gives him no countenance at all; for instance, the ‘Great simpleton!’ (forμέγα νήπιος) of Mr Newman, and the ‘Thou fool!’ of the Bible, are something alike; but ‘Thou fool!’ is very grand, and ‘Great simpleton!’ is an atrocity. So, too, Chapman’s ‘Poor wretched beasts’ is pitched many degrees too low; but Shakspeare’s ‘Poor venomous fool, Be angry and despatch!’ is in the grand style.

One more piece of translation and I have done. I will take the passage in which both Chapman and Mr Newman have already so much excited our astonishment, the passage at the end of the nineteenth book of theIliad, the dialogue betweenAchilles and his horse Xanthus, after the death of Patroclus. Achilles begins:

‘Xanthus and Balius both, ye far-famed seed of Podarga!See that ye bring your master home to the host of the ArgivesIn some other sort than your last, when the battle is ended;And not leave him behind, a corpse on the plain, like Patroclus’.Then, from beneath the yoke, the fleet horse Xanthus addressed him:Sudden he bowed his head, and all his mane, as he bowed it,Streamed to the ground by the yoke, escaping from under the collar;And he was given a voice by the white-armed Goddess Hera.‘Truly, yet this time will we save thee, mighty Achilles!But thy day of death is at hand; nor shallwebe the reason—No, but the will of heaven, and Fate’s invincible power.For by no slow pace or want of swiftness of oursDid the Trojans obtain to strip the arms from Patroclus;But that prince among Gods, the son of the lovely-haired Leto,Slew him fighting in front of the fray, and glorified Hector.But, for us, we vie in speed with the breath of the West-Wind,Which, men say, is the fleetest of winds; ’tis thou who art fatedTo lie low in death, by the hand of a God and a Mortal’.Thus far he; and here his voice was stopped by the Furies.Then, with a troubled heart, the swift Achilles addressed him:‘Why dost thou prophesy so my death to me, Xanthus? It needs not.I of myself know well, that here I am destined to perish,Far from my father and mother dear: for all that I will notStay this hand from fight, till the Trojans are utterly routedSo he spake, and drove with a cry his steeds into battle.

‘Xanthus and Balius both, ye far-famed seed of Podarga!

See that ye bring your master home to the host of the Argives

In some other sort than your last, when the battle is ended;

And not leave him behind, a corpse on the plain, like Patroclus’.

Then, from beneath the yoke, the fleet horse Xanthus addressed him:

Sudden he bowed his head, and all his mane, as he bowed it,

Streamed to the ground by the yoke, escaping from under the collar;

And he was given a voice by the white-armed Goddess Hera.

‘Truly, yet this time will we save thee, mighty Achilles!

But thy day of death is at hand; nor shallwebe the reason—

No, but the will of heaven, and Fate’s invincible power.

For by no slow pace or want of swiftness of ours

Did the Trojans obtain to strip the arms from Patroclus;

But that prince among Gods, the son of the lovely-haired Leto,

Slew him fighting in front of the fray, and glorified Hector.

But, for us, we vie in speed with the breath of the West-Wind,

Which, men say, is the fleetest of winds; ’tis thou who art fated

To lie low in death, by the hand of a God and a Mortal’.

Thus far he; and here his voice was stopped by the Furies.

Then, with a troubled heart, the swift Achilles addressed him:

‘Why dost thou prophesy so my death to me, Xanthus? It needs not.

I of myself know well, that here I am destined to perish,

Far from my father and mother dear: for all that I will not

Stay this hand from fight, till the Trojans are utterly routed

So he spake, and drove with a cry his steeds into battle.

Here the only particular remark which I will make is, that in the fourth and eighth line the grammar is what I call a loose and idiomatic grammar. In writing a regular and literary style, one would in the fourth line have to repeat before ‘leave’ the words ‘that ye’ from the second line, and to insert the word ‘do’; and in the eighth line one would not use such an expression as ‘he was given a voice’. But I will make one general remark on the character of my own translations, as I have made so many on that of the translations of others. It is, that over the graver passages there is shed an air somewhat too strenuous and severe, by comparison with that lovely ease and sweetness which Homer, for all his noble and masculine way of thinking, never loses.

Here I stop. I have said so much, because I think that the task of translating Homer into English verse both will be reattempted, and may be reattempted successfully. There are great works composed of parts so disparate that one translator isnot likely to have the requisite gifts for poetically rendering all of them. Such are the works of Shakspeare, and Goethe’sFaust; and these it is best to attempt to render in prose only. People praise Tieck and Schlegel’s version of Shakspeare. I, for my part, would sooner read Shakspeare in the French prose translation, and that is saying a great deal; but in the German poets’ hands Shakspeare so often gets, especially where he is humorous, an air of what the French callniaiserie! and can anything be more un-Shakspearian than that? Again; Mr Hayward’s prose translation of the first part ofFaust—so good that it makes one regret Mr Hayward should have abandoned the line of translation for a kind of literature which is, to say the least, somewhat slight—is not likely to be surpassed by any translation in verse. But poems like theIliad, which, in the main, are in one manner, may hope to find a poetical translator so gifted and so trained as to be able to learn that one manner, and to reproduce it. Only, the poet who would reproduce this must cultivate in himself a Greek virtue by no means common among the moderns in general, and the English in particular,—moderation. For Homer has not only the English vigour, he has the Greek grace; and when one observes the bolstering, rollicking way in which his English admirers—even men of genius likethe late Professor Wilson—love to talk of Homer and his poetry, one cannot help feeling that there is no very deep community of nature between them and the object of their enthusiasm. ‘It is very well, my good friends’, I always imagine Homer saying to them: if he could hear them: ‘you do me a great deal of honour, but somehow or other you praise me too like barbarians’. For Homer’s grandeur is not the mixed and turbid grandeur of the great poets of the north, of the authors ofOthelloandFaust; it is a perfect, a lovely grandeur. Certainly his poetry has all the energy and power of the poetry of our ruder climates; but it has, besides, the pure lines of an Ionian horizon, the liquid clearness of an Ionian sky.

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