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The English Works of Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury; Now First Collected and Edited by Sir William Molesworth, Bart., (London: Bohn, 1839-45). 11 vols. Vol. 10.
Hobbes’s translation of Homer’s epic poems the Iliad and the Odyssey. The Iliad is about the warriors and heroes who are involved in the Trojan war, what happens to men in combat, and the consequences of pride, ambition, and failure.
The text is in the public domain.
The translation of Homer was amongst the latest of Hobbes’ works; a signal of retreat from those mathematical contests in which he had spent so much of his time:—“Silentibus tandem adversariis, annum agens octogesimum septimum, Homeri Odysseam edidit.”—See Vita Thomæ Hobbes.
In 1673 appeared, “The travels of Ulysses, as they were related by himself in Homer’s 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th books of his Odysses, to Alcinous king of Phæacia,” published by Wm. Crook, in 12mo. The date of 1674, given by Anthony Wood and others, seems to be a mistake; they may perhaps have been misled by Hobbes’ telling us, that he translated the Odyssey in his 87th year.
Whether Hobbes had at this time finished any other part of Homer, and put forth those four books of the Odyssey as a specimen of the performance, or to ascertain what reception might be expected from the public for the remainder of it, is unknown. In about a year afterwards (see Vita) they were followed by the translation of the entire Iliad and Odyssey. Copies are to be found of various dates; as 1676, 1677, 1684, 1686, and perhaps others: but there were but three editions, the second dated 1677, and the third, 1686. The biographers appear to have been mistaken in repeating one after the other, (see Biog. Britan., Brit. Biog., Gen. Dict., Aikin’s Biog.), that in the course of ten years this translation went through three large editions.
Pope, in the preface to his translation, observes, that the poetry of Hobbes’ version is “too mean for criticism.” Some, however, may possibly find the unstudied and unpretending language of Hobbes convey an idea less remote from the original, than the smooth and glittering lines of Pope and his coadjutors.
Pope’s remark upon the habitual carelessness displayed in the execution of the work, is well founded. It was possibly never meant for criticism, and may be fairly looked upon, as the translator has told us in his preface, as the amusement of his old age.
The present edition is printed from that of 1677.
The virtues required in an heroic poem, and indeed in all writings published, are comprehended all in this one word—discretion.
And discretion consisteth in this, that every part of the poem be conducing, and in good order placed to the end and design of the poet. And the design is not only to profit, but also to delight the reader.
By profit, I intend not here any accession of wealth, either to the poet, or to the reader; but accession of prudence, justice, and fortitude, by the example of such great and noble persons as he introduceth speaking, or describeth acting. For all men love to behold, though not to practise virtue. So that at last the work of an heroic poet is no more but to furnish an ingenuous reader, when his leisure abounds, with the diversion of an honest and delightful story, whether true or feigned.
But because there be many men called critics, and wits, and virtuosi, that are accustomed to censure the poets, and most of them of divers judgments, how is it possible, you’ll say, to please them all? Yes, very well; if the poem be as it should be. For men can judge what is good, that know not what is best. For he that can judge what is best, must have considered all those things, though they be almost innumerable, that concur to make the reading of an heroic poem pleasant. Whereof I’ll name as many as shall come into my mind.
And they are contained, first, in the choice of words. Secondly, in the construction. Thirdly, in the contrivance of the story or fiction. Fourthly, in the elevation of the fancy. Fifthly, in the justice and impartiality of the poet. Sixthly, in the clearness of descriptions. Seventhly, in the amplitude of the subject.
And, to begin with words: the first indiscretion is, the use of such words as to the readers of poesy (which are commonly persons of the best quality) are not sufficiently known. For the work of an heroic poem is to raise admiration, principally, for three virtues, valour, beauty, and love; to the reading whereof women no less than men have a just pretence, though their skill in language be not so universal; and therefore foreign words, till by long use they become vulgar, are unintelligible to them. Also the names of instruments and tools of artificers, and words of art, though of use in the Schools, are far from being fit to be spoken by a hero. He may delight in the arts themselves, and have skill in some of them, but his glory lies not in that, but in courage, nobility, and other virtues of nature, or in the command he has over other men. Nor does Homer in any part of his poem attribute any praise to Achilles, or any blame to Alexander, for that they had both learnt to play upon the guitar. The character of words that become a hero are property and significancy, but without both the malice and lasciviousness of a satyr.
Another virtue of an heroic poem is the perspicuity and the facility of construction, and consisteth in a natural contexture of the words, so as not to discover the labour, but the natural ability of the poet; and this is usually called a good style. For the order of words, when placed as they ought to be, carries a light before it, whereby a man may foresee the length of his period, as a torch in the night shows a man the stops and unevenness in his way. But when placed unnaturally, the reader will often find unexpected checks, and be forced to go back and hunt for the sense, and suffer such unease, as in a coach a man unexpectedly finds in passing over a furrow. And though the laws of verse (which have bound the Greeks and Latins to number of feet, and quantity of syllables, and the English and other nations to number of syllables and rhyme) put great constraint upon the natural course of language, yet the poet, having the liberty to depart from what is obstinate, and to choose somewhat else that is more obedient to such laws, and no less fit for his purpose, shall not be, neither by the measure, nor by the necessity of rhyme, excused; though a translation often may.
A third virtue lies in the contrivance. For there is difference between a poem and a history in prose. For a history is wholly related by the writer; but in an heroic poem the narration is, a great part of it, put upon some of the persons introduced by the poet. So Homer begins not his Iliad with the injury done by Paris, but makes it related by Menelaus, and very briefly, as a thing notorious; nor begins he his Odysseys with the departure of Ulysses from Troy, but makes Ulysses himself relate the same to Alcinous, in the midst of his poem; which I think much more pleasant and ingenious, than a too precise and close following of the time.
A fourth is in the elevation of fancy, which is generally taken for the greatest praise of heroic poetry; and is so, when governed by discretion. For men more generally affect and admire fancy than they do either judgment, or reason, or memory, or any other intellectual virtue, and for the pleasantness of it, give to it alone the name of wit, accounting reason and judgment but for a dull entertainment. For in fancy consisteth the sublimity of a poet, which is that poetical fury which the readers, for the most part, call for. It flies abroad swiftly to fetch in both matter and words; but if there be not discretion at home to distinguish which are fit to be used and which not, which decent and which undecent for persons, times, and places, their delight and grace is lost. But if they be discreetly used, they are greater ornaments of a poem by much than any other. A metaphor also (which is a comparison contracted into a word) is not unpleasant; but when they are sharp and extraordinary, they are not fit for an heroic poet, nor for a public consultation, but only for an accusation or defence at the bar.
A fifth lies in the justice and impartiality of the poet, and belongeth as well to history as to poetry. For both the poet and the historian writeth only, or should do, matter of fact. And as far as the truth of fact can defame a man, so far they are allowed to blemish the reputation of persons. But to do the same upon report, or by inference, is below the dignity, not only of a hero, but of a man. For neither a poet nor a historian ought to make himself an absolute master of any man’s good name. None of the Emperors of Rome whom Tacitus, or any other writer, hath condemned, was ever subject to the judgment of any of them; nor were they ever heard to plead for themselves, which are things that ought to be antecedent to condemnation. Nor was, I think, Epicurus the philosopher, (who is transmitted to us by the Stoics for a man of evil and voluptuous life), ever called, convented, and lawfully convicted, as all men ought to be before they be defamed. Therefore it is a very great fault in a poet to speak evil of any man in their writings historical.
A sixth virtue consists in the perfection and curiosity of descriptions, which the ancient writers of eloquence call icones, that is images. And an image is always a part, or rather a ground of the poetical comparison. As, for example, when Virgil would set before our eyes the fall of Troy, he describes perhaps the whole labour of many men together in the felling of some great tree, and with how much ado it fell. This is the image. To which if you but add these words, “So fell Troy,” you have the comparison entire; the grace whereof lieth in the lightsomeness, and is but the description of all, even the minutest, parts of the thing described; that not only they that stand far off, but also they that stand near, and look upon it with the oldest spectacles of a critic, may approve it. For a poet is a painter, and should paint actions to the understanding with the most decent words, as painters do persons and bodies with the choicest colours, to the eye; which if not done nicely, will not be worthy to be placed in a cabinet.
The seventh virtue, which lying in the amplitude of the subject, is nothing but variety, and a thing without which a whole poem would be no pleasanter than an epigram, or one good verse; nor a picture of a hundred figures better than any one of them asunder, if drawn with equal art. And these are the virtues which ought especially to be looked upon by the critics, in the comparing of the poets, Homer with Virgil, or Virgil with Lucan. For these only, for their excellency, I have read, or heard compared.
If the comparison be grounded upon the first and second virtues, which consist in known words and style unforced, they are all excellent in their own language, though perhaps the Latin than the Grerk is apter to dispose itself into an hexameter verse, as having both fewer monosyllables and fewer polysyllables. And this may make the Latin verse appear more grave and equal, which is taken for a kind of majesty; though in truth there be no majesty in words, but then when they seem to proceed from a high and weighty employment of the mind. But neither Homer, nor Virgil, nor Lucan, nor any poet writing commendably, though not excellently, was ever charged much with unknown words, or great constraint of style, as being a fault proper to translators, when they hold themselves too superstitiously to their author’s words.
In the third virtue, which is contrivance, there is no doubt but Homer excels them all. For their poems, except the introduction of their Gods, are but so many histories in verse: where Homer has woven so many histories together as contain the whole learning of his time (which the Greeks call cyclopædia,), and furnished both the Greek and Latin stages with all the plots and arguments of their tragedies.
The fourth virtue, which is the height of fancy, is almost proper to Lucan, and so admirable in him, that no heroic poem raises such admiration of the poet, as his hath done, though not so great admiration of the persons he introduceth. And though it be a mark of a great wit, yet it is fitter for a rhetorician than a poet, and rebelleth often against discretion, as when he says,
Than which nothing could be spoken more gloriously to the the exaltation of a man, nor more disgracefully to the depression of the Gods. Homer indeed maketh some Gods for the Greeks, and some for the Trojans, but always makes Jupiter impartial; and never prefers the judgment of a man before that of Jupiter, much less before the judgment of all the Gods together.
The fifth virtue, which is the justice and impartiality of a poet, is very eminent in Homer and Virgil, but the contrary in Lucan. Lucan shows himself openly in the Pompeian faction, inveighing against Cæsar throughout his poem, like Cicero against Cataline or Marc Antony, and is therefore justly reckoned by Quintilian as a rhetorician rather than a poet. And a great part of the delight of his readers proceedeth from the pleasure which too many men take to hear great persons censured. But Homer and Virgil, especially Homer, do everywhere what they can to preserve the reputation of their heroes.
If we compare Homer and Virgil by the sixth virtue, which is the clearness of images, or descriptions, it is manifest that Homer ought to be preferred, though Virgil himself were to be the judge. For there are very few images in Virgil besides those which he hath translated out of Homer; so that Virgil’s images are Homer’s praises. But what if he have added something to it of his own? Though he have, yet it is no addition of praise, because it is easy. But he hath some images which are not in Homer, and better than his. It may be so; and so may other poets have which never durst compare themselves with Homer. Two or three fine sayings are not enough to make a wit. But where is that image of his better done by him than Homer, of those that have been done by them both? Yes, Eustathius, as Mr. Ogilby hath observed, where they both describe the falling of a tree, prefers Virgil’s description. But Eustathius is in that, I think, mistaken. The place of Homer is in the fourth of the Iliads, the sense whereof is this:
It is manifest that in this place Homer intended no more than to show how comely the body of Simoisius appeared as he lay dead upon the bank of Scamander, straight and tall, with a fair head of hair, and like a straight 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 through the breast, as he was with a spear, is always sudden.
The description of how a great tree falleth, when many men together hew it down, is in the second of Virgil’s Æneads. The sense of it, with the comparison, is in English this:
And here again it is evident that Virgil meant to compare the manner how Troy, after many battles, and after the losses of many cities, conquered by the many nations under Agamemnon in a long war, and thereby weakened, 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. It is true, that this description of the felling and falling of a tree is exceeding graceful, but is it therefore more than Homer could have done if need had been? Or is there no description in Homer of somewhat else as good as this? Yes, and in many of our English poets now alive. If it then be lawful for Julius Scaliger to say, that if Jupiter would have described the fall of a tree, he could not have mended this of Virgil; it will be lawful for me to repeat an old epigram of Antipater, to the like purpose, in favour of Homer.
The seventh and last commendation of an heroic poem consisteth in amplitude and variety; and in this Homer exceedeth Virgil very much, and that not by superfluity of words, but by plenty of heroic matter, and multitude of descriptions and comparisons (whereof Virgil hath translated but a small part into his Æneads), such as are the images of shipwracks, battles, single combats, beauty, passions of the mind, sacrifices, entertainments, and other things, whereof Virgil, abating what he borrows of Homer, has scarce the twentieth part. It is no wonder therefore if all the ancient learned men both of Greece and Rome have given the first place in poetry to Homer. It is rather strange that two or three, and of late time, and but learners of the Greek tongue, should dare to contradict so many competent judges both of language and discretion. But howsoever I defend Homer, I aim not thereby at any reflection upon the following translation. Why then did I write it? Because I had nothing else to do. Why publish it? Because I thought it might take off my adversaries from showing their folly upon my more serious writings, and set them upon my verses to show their wisdom. But why without annotations? Because I had no hope to do it better than it is already done by Mr. Ogilby.
Homer, whose proper name was Melesigenes, was born in the country of Æolia, about 160 years after the siege of Troy, which was about the year of the world 3665, of Critheis, daughter of Melanopus and Omyris, who, after her father and mother’s death, was left to a friend of her father’s at Cuma, who, when he found she was with child, in displeasure he sent her away to a friend’s at a place nigh the River Meles; where, at a feast among other young women, she was delivered of a son, whose name she called Melesigenes, from the place where he was born. Critheis went with her son to Ismenias, and after to Smyrna, where she dressed wool to get a livelihood for herself and son. Phemius, the schoolmaster, taking a fancy to her, married her, and took her son into the school, who by his sharpness of wit outwent all the school in wisdom and learning. In a short time after, his master dying, he taught the same school, and gained great reputation by his learning, not only at Smyrna, but all the countries round about; for the merchants that did frequent Smyrna, with corn, &c. did spread his fame about; amongst which merchants, one Mentes, master of a ship of Leucadia, took that kindness for him, that he persuaded him to leave his school and travel with him, which he did, by whom he was maintained well and plentifully in his travels.
They went to Spain, from thence to Italy, and from Italy through several countries, and at last came to Ithaca, where a violent rheum fell into the eyes of Homer, that he could not travel any further, so that Mentes left him with a friend of his called Mentor, a person of great riches and honour in Ithaca, where Homer learned the principal matters relating to Ulysses’ life; but Mentes the next year came back the same way, and finding Homer recovered in his eyes, took him in his travels. They went through many countries till they came to Colophen, where he fell into his old distemper of his eyes, and there grew quite blind; after which he addicted himself to poetry; but being poor, he went to Smyrna, expecting to get better encouragement there; but being disappointed of his expectation, he went to Cuma, and as he went he rested at a town called New-wall, where he repeated some of his verses; and one Tichio, a leather-seller, took such delight to hear them, that he entertained him kindly for a long time. After, he proceeded on his journey to Cuma, and when he came there he was well received, and he had some friends in the senate that did propose to have had a maintenance settled on him for life, but it could not be carried. At this place he first received the name of Homer, from his blindness.
From Cuma he went to Phocæa, where lived one Thestorides, a schoolmaster, who invited Homer to live with him, and by that means he got some of his verses, and after went to Chios, where he taught them as his own verses, and got great reputation by them. When Homer heard that Thestorides had thus abused him, he followed him to Chios, and by the way, at a place called Bollisus, was taken up by a shepherd, as he was keeping his master’s sheep; the shepherd did relieve him, and carried him to his master, where he lived some time, and taught his children; yet he could not rest till he had been at Chios to discover the cheat of Thestorides, who when he heard of Homer’s coming, he left Chios, where Homer tarried some time, and taught a school, grew rich, married, and had two daughters, one of which died young, the other he married to the shepherd’s master that took him in at Bollisus. When he grew old he left Chios, and went to Samos, where he staid some time singing of verses at feasts and at new moons, at the chiefest men’s houses in all places where he was. From Samos he was going to Athens, but fell sick at Ios, and there died, and was buried on the sea-shore. Long after, when his poems had gotten an universal applause, the people of Ios built him a sepulchre.
The discontent and secession of Achilles.
The dream of Agamemnon. The tempting of the army, and the catalogue of ships and commanders.
The dream of Agamemnon, &c.
The tempting of the army.
The catalogue of ships and commanders.
The duel of Menelaus and Paris, for the ending of the war.
The articles broken by the Trojans.
The first battle.
The first battle continued, wherein Pallas strengtheneth Diomedes to supply the absence of Achilles.
The first battle yet continued. The other Gods forbidden by Jove to assist.
The Greeks enclose their ships with a wall and ditch. The duel betwixt Hector and Ajax.
The second battle; and the Trojans stay all night in the field.
The Greeks deliberate of going home, but are staid by Diomed and Nestor.
Ambassadors sent with gifts to reconcile Achilles in vain.
Encounter of the scouts by night.
The surprise of Rhesus.
The third fight.
The Greeks beaten to their camp.
Diomed, Machaon, Ulysses, and Eurypylus wounded.
Patroclus is persuaded by Nestor to obtain of Achilles to be sent to the aid of the Greeks in Achilles’ armour.
The fourth fight, Hector having entered the Argive camp, at the ships.
The fourth fight.
Neptune encourageth the Greeks.
Juno, by the help of Venus, layeth Jove asleep, whilst Neptune assisteth the Greeks.
Neptune assisteth the Greeks.
Jupiter awakes and sends away Neptune. Hector chaseth the Greeks again to their ships, and fireth one of them. The acts of Ajax. Which is the fifth battle.
Jupiter awakes and sends away Neptune.
Hector chaseth the Greeks again to their ships.
The acts of Ajax.
The sixth battle. The acts of Patroclus, and his death.
The sixth battle.
The acts of Patroclus, and his death.
The seventh battle, about Patroclus’s body.
The grief of Achilles, and new armour made for him by Vulcan.
Achilles reconciled to Agamemnon goes forth to battle.
The eighth battle, and the Gods permitted to assist.
Achilles, with great slaughter, pursues the Trojans to Scamander, and takes twelve alive to kill at Patroclus’s tomb.
Achilles, with great slaughter, pursues the Trojans, &c.
The death of Hector, and lamentation in Troy.
The funeral games for Patroclus.
The redemption of Hector, and his funeral.
end of the iliad.
In a council of the Gods (Neptune absent) Pallas procureth an order for the restitution of Ulysses, and appearing to his son Telemachus in human shape, adviseth him to complain of the suitors before the council of the Lords, and then to go to Pylus and Sparta to enquire about his father.
Telemachus complains in vain, and borrowing a ship goes secretly to
Pyle by night, and how he was there received.
Telemachus goes secretly to Pyle, &c.
Nestor entertains him at Pyle, and tells him how the Greeks departed from Troy; and sends him for further information to Sparta.