University of Virginia Library

This Book opens with the greatest simplicity imaginable. Dionysius Halicarnasseus quotes the sixteen first Lines to this purpose: The Poet, says that Author, describes a low and vulgar action, yet gives it an inexpressible sweetness; the ear is pleased with the harmony of the Poetry, and yet there is nothing noble in the sentiments. Whence, continues he, does this arise? from the choice of the words, or from the placing of them? No one will affirm that it consists in the choice of the words, for the diction is entirely low and vulgar, so vulgar that a common Artificer or Peasant, who never studied elocution, would use it in conversation; turn the Verses into Prose, and this will appear. There are no transpositions, no figures, no variety of dialect, nor any new and studied expressions. Where then is the beauty of the Poetry? It must be entirely ascrib'd to the harmonious juncture and position of the words; and he concludes that the collocation of words has a greater efficacy both in Prose and Poetry, than the choice. And indeed a judicious Disposition of them (like what is feign'd of Minerva in this Book) makes a mean, deform'd, and vulgar period, rise, like Ulysses from beggary, into pomp and dignity. This may be exemplify'd from the rules of mechanic arts: an architect, when he gathers his materials for a building, has these three things chiefly in view: first, with what piece of stone, wood, &c. a correspondent piece will best agree: next he considers their several formations, and how it will best stand in the structure; and lastly, if any part of the materials suits not with the allotted place, he rejects it or new shapes it, till it agrees with the whole work: The same care is to be taken by a good writer: he is first to consider what Noun or Verb is to be join'd to other Nouns or Verbs so fitly, as not possibly to be plac'd more conveniently; for a promiscuous connecting of words indiscriminately spoils both Prose and Poetry: Next he considers the frame and turn of the Verb or Noun, and how it will stand in the place he allots it; and if it suits not exactly, he changes it, sometimes by varying the Numbers, sometimes the Cases, and at other times the Genders: And lastly, if a word prove so stubborn as not to bend to the level of the period, he entirely rejects it, and introduces another that preserves a due conformity; or at least, if an harmonious word be necessary, he places it so judiciously between more agreeable and tuneful words, that their harmony steals away our imagination from observing the roughness of the others: Like wise Generals, who in ordering the ranks of their Soldiers, strengthen the weaker files by sustaining them with the stronger; and by this method render the whole invincible. See likewise Cap. 32. of Longinus, of the disposition of words.

The word in the original is αριστον, which here denotes very evidently the morning repast: it is used but in one other place in all Homer in this sense: Iliad. Lib. 24. V. 124.

But we are not therefore to imagine that this was an usual meal; Homer in other places expresses it by δειπνον, as is observed by Athenæus, Lib. 1.

“At the dawn of the day they took repast and arm'd themselves for battle”. The Greeks had three customary meals, which are distinctly mention'd by Palamedes in Æschylus,

Homer, adds Athenæus, mentions a fourth repast, Lib. 17. of the Odyssey:

This the Romans call'd commessationem, we a collation, a repast taken, as the same Author explains it, between dinner and supper; the word is deriv'd απο τησς δειλης δειλης οψιας, or the evening twilight. But Athenæus refutes himself, lib. 5. p. 193. I have already (says he) observ'd that the Antients eat thrice a-day; and 'tis ridiculous to imagine that they eat four times, from these words of Homer,

For that expression meant only that Eumæus should return in the evening, δειλινον διατριψας χρονον. But this is not the full import of the word δειελιησας, for it undoubtedly means, To take the evening repast or supper, as is evident from the conclusion of the seventeenth Book of the Odyssey: Return, says Telemachus to Eumæus, but first take refreshment; and Eumæus accordingly eats, and the Poet immediately adds, because the Evening was come, or επηλυθε δειελον ημας. However in no sense can this word be brought to prove that the Greeks eat four times in the day: but if any person will imagine that it signifies in that place an immediate meal, all that can be gather'd from it is, that Telemachus out of kindness to Eumæus commands him to eat before the usual hour of repast, before he leaves his palace: but Hesychius rightly interprets it by το δειλινον λαβων εμβρωεια that is, eating his supper; for as δειπνον and αριστον signify the dinner, so δορπον and δειλινον denote the time of supper promiscuously.

I will add no more, but refer the Reader for a full Explication of δειπνον, αριστον and δειλινον, to Lib. 8. Question 6. of Plutarch's Symposiacs.

In the original it is, Eumæus drop'd the bowl as he temper'd it with water. It was customary not to drink wine unmix'd amongst the antients; there was no certain proportion observ'd in the mixture, some to one vessel of wine pour'd in two of water, others to two of wine, five of water. Homer tells us that the wine of Maron was so strong as to require twenty measures of water to one of wine; but perhaps this is spoken hyperbolically, to shew the uncommon strength of it. The Lacedemonians us'd to boil their wine till the fifth part was consum'd, and then keeping it four years, drank it: but sometimes the Grecians drank it without water (but this they call'd reproachfully επισκυθισαι, or to act like a Scythian, from whom they borrow'd the custom.) It was usual even for Children to drink wine thus temper'd, amongst the Grecians; thus in this Book Eurymachus

And Phœnix in the 9th of the Iliads, speaking of Achilles

At Athens there was an altar erected to Bacchus ορθιος, because from thus tempering the wine men return'd upright or sober from entertainments; and a law was enacted by Amphitryon, and afterwards reviv'd by Solon, that no unmix'd wine should be drank at any entertainment.

Homer here makes use of a proverbial expression. It may thus be literally translated,

Telemachus means by this question, if Penelope be determin'd no more to marry; for the marriage-bed was esteem'd so sacred, that upon the decease or absence of the husband, it remain'd unus'd.

Eustathius quotes the same expression from other Authors of

“You shall clear the vessels from spiders webs”; meaning that you shall have so full employment for your vessels, that the spiders shall no more spread their looms there. And another Poet praying for peace, wishes spiders may weave their nets upon the soldiers arms; ετερος ποιητης εθελων ειρηνην ευξασθαι, αραχνας επευχεται νηματα υφαναι τοις οπλοις. Thus we find amongst the Greeks it was an expression of dignity, and apply'd to great and serious occasions; I am not certain that it is so used by the Romans. Catullus uses it jocosely, speaking of his empty purse.

Plantus does the same in his Alularia:

I am not doubtful if it be not too mean an image for English Poetry.

Nothing can more strongly represent the respect which antiquity paid to strangers, than this conduct of Telamachus: Ulysses is in rags, in the disguise of a beggar, and yet a Prince refuses to take his seat. I doubt not but every good man will be pleas'd with such instances of benevolence and humanity to his fellow-creatures; one well natur'd action is preferable to a thousand great ones, and Telemachus appears with more advantage upon this heap of hides and osiers, than a Tyrant upon his throne.

This entertainment is neither to be ascrib'd to parsimony nor poverty, but to the custom and hospitality of former ages. It was a common expression among the Greeks at table, leave something for the Medes; intimating that something ought to be left for a guest that might come accidentally. Plutarch in his 7th Book of the Sympos. Question 3. commends this conduct. Eumæus (says that Author) a wise scholar of a wise master, is no way discomposed, when Telemachus pays him a visit, he immediately sets before him

Besides, the table was accounted sacred to the Gods, and nothing that was sacred was permitted to be empty; this was another reason why the Antients always reserv'd part of their provisions, not solely out of hospitality to men, but piety to the Gods.

It has been observ'd that Homer intended to give us the picture of a compleat Heroe in his two Poems, drawn from the characters of Achilles and Ulysses: Achilles has consummate valour, but wants the wisdom of Ulysses: Ulysses has courage, but courage inclining to caution and stratagem, as much as that of Achilles to rashness. Virgil endeavour'd to form a compleat Heroe in Æneas, by joining in his person the forward Courage of Achilles with the wisdom of Ulysses, and by this conduct gives us a perfect character. The same observation holds good with respect to the subordinate characters introduc'd into the two Poems of the Iliad and Odyssey; and makes an essential difference between them; Thus the Iliad exhibiting an example of heroic valour, almost all the characters are violent and heroic. Diomed, Ajax, Hector, &c. are all chiefly remarkable for courage: But the Odyssey being intended to represent the patience and wisdom of an Heroe, almost all the characters are distinguish'd by benevolence and humanity. Telemachus and Eumæus, Alcinous, Nestor and Menelaus are every where represented in the mild light of wisdom and hospitality. This makes a continu'd difference of style in the Poetry of the two Poems, and the characters of the agents in the Odyssey necessarily exhibit lectures of piety and morality: The Reader should keep this in his view. In reading Homer, the Odyssey is to be look'd upon as a sequel of the Iliad, and then he will find in the two Poems the perfection of human nature, consummate courage join'd with consummate piety. He must be an unobserving Reader, who has not taken notice of that Vein of humanity that runs thro' the whole Odyssey; and a bad man, that has not been pleas'd with it. In my Opinion, Eumæus tending his herds is more amiable than Achilles in all his destructive Glory. There is scarce a speech made in the Odyssey by Eumæus, Telemachus or Ulysses, but what tends to the improvement of mankind: It was this that endear'd the Odyssey to the antients, and Homer's sentences of morality were in every mouth, and introduc'd in all conversation for the better conduct of human life. This Verse was thus apply'd by some of the antients; a person being ask'd what was the Duty of an Orator, or Pleader, answer'd from Homer,

In short, I will not deny but that the Iliad is by far the nobler Poem, with respect to the Poetry; it is fit to be read by Kings and Heroes; but the Odyssey is of use to all mankind, as it teaches us to be good men rather than great, and to prefer morality to glory.

There is not a more spirited speech in all the Odyssey than this of Ulysses; his resentment arises from the last words of Telemachus, observes Eustathius:

He is preparing his son for the destruction of the Suitors, and animating him against despair, by reason of their Numbers. This he brings about, by representing that a brave man in a good cause prefers death to dishonour. By the same method Homer exalts the character of Ulysses: Telemachus thinks it impossible to resist the Suitors, Ulysses not only resists them, but almost without assistance works their destruction. There is a fine contrast between the try'd courage of Ulysses, and the inexperience of Telemachus.

Some antient Critics, as Eustathius informs us, rejected this Verse, and thus read the passage:

Then the sense will be, Oh that I were the son of Ulysses, or Ulysses himself, &c.

For, add they, if this Verse be admitted, it breaks the transport of Ulysses's resentment, and cools the warmth of the expression; Eustathius confesses that he was once of the same opinion, but afterwards seems dubious; for, continues he, Ulysses by saying, Oh that I were the son of Ulysses, or Ulysses himself, gave room to suspect that he was himself Ulysses; and therefore to efface this Impression, he adds with great Address,

And by this method removes all jealousy that might arise from his former expression. Dacier misrepresents Eustathius; she says, Il avoit donnè lieu à quelque subçon qu'il ne fust veritablement Ulysse; whereas he directly says μη υποπτευθη οτι οδυσσευς εστιν ο λαλων, that is, “he uses this Expression, that it may not be suspected that he is Ulysses who speaks”: In reality he inserts these words solely to avoid discovery, not judging it yet seasonable to reveal himself to Telemachus, much less to Eumæus.

The words in Greek are αλλοτριος φως, or, may I fall by the hand of a stranger; that is, by the worst of enemies, foreigners being usually the most barbarous enemies; This circumstance therefore aggravates the calamity. Eustathius.

Homer mentions but one son of Ulysses; other authors name another, Archesilaus; and Sophocles, Eurylaus slain by Telemachus; but perhaps these descended not from Penelope, but Concubines. Eustathius.

There is nothing more wonderful in Homer, than the distribution of his incidents; and how fully must he be possess'd of his whole subject, and take it in all at one view, to bring about the several parts of it naturally? Minerva in the beginning of the fifteenth Book commanded Telemæchus to dispatch Eumæus to Penelope, to inform her of his return. Here this command is executed: but is this all the use the Poet makes of that Errand? It is evident it is not: This command furnishes him with a natural occasion for the removal of Eumæus while Ulysses discovers himself to Telemachus. But why might not the discovery have been made before Eumæus? It was suitable to the cautious character of Ulysses not to trust the knowledge of his person to too many people: besides, if he had here reveal'd himself to Eumæus, there would not have been room for the discovery which is made in the future parts of the Odyssey, and consequently the Reader had been robb'd of the pleasure of it: and it must be allow'd, that the several concealments and discoveries of Ulysses thro' the Odyssey add no small pleasure and beauty to it.

Eustathius reads the words differently, either αχνυμενον περ, or αχνυμενα περ. If we use the former reading, it will be understood according to the recited translation; if the latter, it must then be referr'd to Telemachus, and imply, let us cease to inform Laertes, though we grieve for him. I suppose some Critics were shock'd at the words in the former sense, and thought it cruel in Telemachus not to relieve the sorrows of Laertes, which were occasion'd chiefly thro' fondness to his person: Dacier is fully of this opinion: Eustathius prefers neither of the lections: I doubt not but Homer wrote αχνυμενον περ; this agrees with the whole context.

And as for the cruelty of Telemachus, in forbidding Eumæus to go to Laertes, there is no room for this objection: he guards against it, by requesting Penelope to give him immediate information; which might be done almost as soon by a messenger from her, as by Eumæus. Besides, such a messenger to Laertes would be entirely foreign to the Poem; for his knowledge of the return of Telemachus could contribute nothing to the design of the Odyssey: Whereas the information given to Penelope has this effect; it puts the Suitors upon new measures, and instructs her how to regulate her own conduct with regard to them; and therefore the Poet judiciously dwells upon this, and passes over the other.

Some of the antient Philosophers thought the Poets guilty of impiety, in representing the Gods assuming human appearances; Plato in particular (lib. 2. de Repub.) speaks with great severity. “If a God (says that Author) changes his own shape, must he assume a more or less perfect form? undoubtedly a shape less perfect; for a Deity, as a Deity, can want no perfection; therefore all change must be for the worse: now it is absurd to imagine that a Deity can be willing to assume imperfection, for this would be a degradation unworthy of a divine Power, and consequently it is absurd to imagine that a Deity can be willing to change the form of a Deity; it therefore follows, that the Gods enjoying a perfection of nature, must eternally and unchangeably appear in it”. Let no Poet therefore (meaning Homer) persuade you that the Gods assume the form of strangers, and are visible in such appearances. It must be confess'd, that if Plato had thus spoken only to refute the absurd opinions of Antiquity, which imagin'd the Gods to assume unworthy shapes of bulls, dragons, swans, &c. only to perform some rape, or action unbecoming a Deity, reason would be on his side: But the argument proves too much; supposes that a Deity must lose his perfections by any appearance, but of a Deity; which is an error: If a God acts suitably to the character of a God, where is the degradation? Aristotle was of this judgment, in opposition to his master Plato; and thought it no diminution to a God to appear in the shape of man, the glory of the Creation: In reality, it is a great honour to Homer, that his opinions agree with the verity of the Scriptures, rather than the conjectures of Philosophers; nay, it is not impossible but these relations might be borrow'd from the sacred History: it being manifest that Homer had been in Ægypt, the native country of Moses, in whose writings there are frequent instances of this nature.

This may seem a circumstance unworthy of Poetry, and ridiculous to ascribe a greater sagacity to the brute creation, than to man; but it may be answer'd, that it was the design of the Goddess to be invisible only to Telemachus, and consequently she was visible to the dogs. But I am willing to believe that there is a deeper meaning, and a beautiful moral couch'd under this story: And perhaps Homer speaks thus, to give us to understand, that the brute creation it self confesses the divinity. Dacier.

The Goddess evidently acts thus, that Telemachus might not hear her speak to Ulysses; for this would have made the discovery, and precluded that beautiful interview between Ulysses and Telemachus that immediately follows. It is for the same reason that she conceals herself from Telemachus, for the discovery must have been fully and convincingly made by the appearance and veracity of a Deity; and then there could have been no room for all those doubts and fears of Telemachus, that enliven and beautify the manner of the discovery. The whole relation is indeed an allegory; The wisdom of Ulysses (in Poetry, Minerva) suggests to him, that this is a proper time to reveal himself to Telemachus; the same wisdom (or Minerva) instructs him to dress himself like a King, that he may find the readier credit with his son: In this dress he appears a new man, young and beautiful, which gives occasion to Telemachus to imagine him a Deity; especially because he was an infant when his father sail'd to Troy, and therefore though he now appears like Ulysses, Telemachus does not know him to be his father. This is the naked story, when stript of its poetical ornaments.

I must offer a remark in opposition to that of Dacier upon this place: “This fear of Telemachus (says that Author) proceeds from the opinion of the Antients when the Gods came down visibly; they thought themselves so unworthy of such a manifestation, that whenever it happen'd, they believ'd they should die, or meet with some great calamity”: Thus the Israelites address Moses; Speak thou to us, and we will hear, but let not the Lord speak to us, lest we die. Thus also Gideon; Alas! O Lord, my God, because I have seen an Angel of the Lord face to face, and the Lord said to him, fear not, thou shalt not die. Hence it is very evident, that this notion prevail'd amongst the Israelites: But how does it appear that the Greeks held the same opinion? The contrary is manifest almost to a demonstration: the Gods are introduc'd almost in every book both of the Iliad and Odyssey; and yet there is not the least foundation for such an assertion: nay, Telemachus himself in the second book returns thanks to Minerva for appearing to him, and prays for a second vision.

It is not to be imagined that Telemachus would have preferr'd this prayer, if the presence of the Deity denoted death, or some great calamity; and all the Heroes throughout the Iliad esteem such intercourses as their glory, and converse with the Gods without any apprehensions. But whence then proceeds this fear of Telemachus? entirely from a reverential awe and his own modesty while he stands in the presence of a Deity; for such he believes Ulysses. The words of Telemachus agree with his behaviour; he speaks the language of a man in surprize: It is this surprize at the sudden change of Ulysses, that first makes him imagine him a Deity, and upon that imagination offer him sacrifice and prayer; the whole behaviour paints the nature of man under surprize, and which transports the speaker into vehemence and emotion,

This is a beautiful comparison; but to take its full force, it is necessary to observe the nature of this φηνη or vultur: Homer does not compare Ulysses to that bird merely for its dignity, it being of the Aquiline kind, and therefore the King of birds; but from the knowledge of the nature of it, which doubles the beauty of the allusion: This bird is remarkable for the love it bears towards its young: Tearing open her own thigh, she feeds her young with her own blood: Thus also another Author;

Femore exsecto, sanguineo lactis defluxu, suos fœtus refocillant. And the Egyptians made the vultur their hieroglyphic, to represent a compassionate nature. This gives a reason why this bird is introduc'd with peculiar propriety to represent the fondness of Ulysses for Telemachus. But where is the point of the similitude? Ulysses embraces his son, but the vultur is said to mourn the loss of her young: Eustathius answers, that the sorrow alone, and vehemence of it, is intended to be illustrated by the comparison; I think he should have added the affection Ulysses bears to Telemachus.

It is observable, that Homer inserts very few similitudes in his Odyssey, tho' they occur frequently almost in every book of the Iliad. The Odyssey is wrote with more simplicity, and consequently there is less room for allusions. If we observe the similies themselves inserted in each Poem, we shall find the same difference: In the Iliad they are drawn from lions, storms, torrents, conflagrations; thunder, &c. In the Odyssey, from lower objects, from an heap of thorns, from a shipwright plying the wimble, an armourer tempering iron, a matron weeping over her dying husband, &c. The Similies are likewise generally longer in the Iliad than the Odyssey, and less resemblance between the thing illustrated, and the illustration; the reason is, in the Iliad the similitudes are introduced to illustrate some great and noble object, and therefore the Poet proceeds till he has rais'd some noble image to inflame the mind of the Reader; whereas in these calmer scenes the Poet keeps closer to the point of allusion, and needs only to represent the object, to render it entertaining: By the former conduct he raises our admiration above the subject, by adding foreign embellishments; in the latter he brings the copy as close as possible to the original, to possess us with a true and equal image of it.

It has been objected by a French Critic, that Homer is blameable for too great a length in his similitudes; that in the heat of an action he stops short, and turns to some illusion, which calls off our attention from the main subject. 'Tis true, comparisons ought not to be too long, and are not to be plac'd in the heat of an action, as Mr. Dryden observes, but when it begins to decline: Thus in the first Æneis, when the storm is in its fury, the Poet introduces no comparison, because nothing can be more impetuous than the storm it self; but when the heat of the description abates, then lest we should cool too soon, he renews it by some proper similitude, which still keeps up our attention and fixes the whole upon our minds. The similitude before us is thus placed at the conclusion of the Heroe's lamentation, and the Poet by this method leaves the whole deeply fix'd upon the memory. Virgil has imitated this comparison in his fourth Georgic, but very judiciously substituted the nightingale in the place of the vultur, that bird being introduc'd to represent the mournful music of Orpheus.

Nothing can be sweeter than this comparison of Virgil, but the learned Huetius thinks he has found a notorious blunder in it: This nightingale (says he) in the first line sits in the shade of a poplar, and yet in the fourth she mourns by night, flet noctem. It is evident that Monsieur Huet mistakes the word umbra for the shade of the tree, which it casts while the sun shines upon it; whereas it only means that the bird sings sub foliis, or conceal'd in the leaves of it, which may be done by night as well as by day: But if it be thought that this is not a sufficient answer, the passage may be thus understood: The nightingale mourning under the shade of a poplar, &c. ceases not all night, or flet noctem; that is, she begins her song in the evening by day, but mourns all night. Either of these answers are sufficient for Virgil's vindication.

It does not appear at first view why the Poet makes Telemachus recover himself from his transport of sorrow sooner than Ulysses: Is Telemachus a greater master of his passions? or is it to convince Ulysses of his son's wisdom, as Eustathius conjectures? this can scarce be suppos'd, Ulysses being superior in wisdom. I would chuse rather to ascribe it to human nature; for it has been observ'd, that affection seldom so strongly ascends, as it descends; the child seldom loves the father so tenderly, as the father the child: This observation has been made from the remotest Antiquity. And it is wisely design'd by the great Author of our Natures; for in the common course of life, the child must bury the parent; it is therefore a merciful dispensation, that the tye of blood and affection should be loosen'd by degrees, and not torn violently asunder in the full strength of it. It is expected that aged persons should die, their loss therefore grows more familiar to us, and it loses much of its horror through the long expectation of it.

Here is a repetition of what the Reader knows entirely, from many parts of the preceding story; but it being necessary in this place, the Poet judiciously reduces it into the compass of six lines, and by this method avoids prolixity. Eustathius.

According to this catalogue, the Suitors with their attendants (the two sewers, and Medon, and Phemius) are a hundred and eighteen; but the two last are not to be taken for the enemies of Ulysses; and therefore are not involv'd in their punishment in the conclusion of the Odyssey.

Spondanus mistakes this passage egregiously.

He understands it thus, “Medon who was an Herald and a divine bard.” Præco unus qui & idem Musicus: 'Tis true, the construction will bear this interpretation; but it is evident from the latter part of the 22d Odyssey, that the Κηρυξ and the Αοιδος were two persons, namely, Medon and Phemius: Medon acts all along as a friend to Penelope and Telemachus, and Phemius is affirm'd to be detain'd by the Suitors involuntarily, and consequently they are both guiltless.

This whole discourse between Ulysses and Telemachus is introduc'd to prepare the Reader for the Catastrophe of the Poem: Homer judiciously interests Heaven in the cause, that the Reader may not be surpriz'd at the event, when he sees such numbers fall by the hands of these Heroes; he consults probability, and as the Poem now draws to a conclusion, sets the assistance of Heaven full before the Reader.

It is likewise very artful to let us into some knowledge of the event of the Poem; all care must be taken that it be rather guess'd than known. If it be entirely known, the Reader finds nothing new to awaken his attention; if on the contrary it be so intricate, that the event cannot possibly be guess'd at, we wander in the dark, and are lost in uncertainty. The art of the Poet consists not in concealing the event entirely; but when it is in some measure foreseen, in introducing such a number of incidents that now bring us almost into the sight of it, then by new obstacles perplex the story to the very conclusion of the Poem; every obstacle, and every removal of it fills us with surprize, with pleasure or pain alternately, and consequently calls up our whole attention. This is admirably describ'd by Vida, lib. 2.

This rule he afterwards illustrates by a very happy similitude,

The conduct both of Virgil and Homer are agreeable to this observation; for instance, Anchises and Tiresias in the shades, foretel Æneas and Ulysses that all their troubles shall end prosperously, that the one shall found the Roman Empire, the other regain his kingdoms; but the means being kept conceal'd, our appetite is rather whetted than cloy'd, to know by what means these events are brought about: Thus, as in Vida's allusion, they shew us the City at a great distance, but how we are to arrive at it, by what roads they intend to guide us to it, this they keep conceal'd; the journey discovers itself, and every step we advance leads us forward, and shews where we are to take the next; neither does the Poet directly lead us in the strait path, sometimes we are as it were in a labyrinth, and we know not how to extricate our selves out of it; sometimes he carries us into by-ways, and we almost lose sight of the direct way, and then suddenly they open into the chief road, and convey us to the journey's end. In this consists the skill of the Poet; he must form probable intricacies, and then solve them probably; he must set his Heroe in dangers, and then bring him out of them with honour. This observation is necessary to be apply'd to all those passages in the Odyssey, where the event of it is obscurely foretold, and which some tasteless Critics have blam'd, as taking away the curiosity of the Reader by an unseasonable discovery.

Plutarch in his Treatise upon reading Poems, observes the wisdom of Ulysses in these instructions: He is the person who is more immediately injur'd, yet he not only restrains his own resentment, but that of Telemachus: He perceives that his son is in danger of flying out into some passion, he therefore very wisely arms him against it. Men do not put bridles upon horses when they are already running with full speed, but they bridle them before they bring them out to the race: This very well illustrates the conduct of Ulysses; he fears the youth of Telemachus may be too warm, and through an unseasonable ardour at the sight of his wrongs, betray him to his enemies; he therefore persuades him to patience and calmness, and pre-disposes his mind with rational considerations to enable him to encounter his passions, and govern his resentment.

These ten lines occur in the beginning of the nineteenth book, and the antients (as Eustathius informs us) were of opinion, that they are here plac'd improperly; for how, say they, should Ulysses know that the arms were in a lower apartment, when he was in the country, and had not yet seen his Palace? But this is no real objection; his repository of arms he knew was in the lower apartment, and therefore it was rational to conclude that the arms were in it. The verses are proper in both places; here Ulysses prepares Telemachus against the time of the execution of his designs; in the nineteenth book that time is come, and therefore he repeats his instructions.

This seems to have been a proverbial expression, at least it has been so used by latter writers: The observation holds true to this day, and it is manifest that more men fall by the sword in countries where the inhabitants daily wear swords, than in those where a sword is thought no part of dress or ornament. Dacier.

This injunction of secrecy is introduc'd by Ulysses with the utmost solemnity; and it was very necessary that it should be so; the whole hopes of his re-establishment depending upon it: Besides, this behaviour agrees with the character of Ulysses, which is remarkable for disguise and concealment. The Poet makes a further use of it; namely, to give him an opportunity to describe at large the several discoveries made to Penelope. Laertes, and Eumæus personally by Ulysses, in the sequel of the Odyssey, which are no small ornaments to it; yet must have been omitted, or have lost their effect, if the return of Ulysses had been made known by Telemachus; this would have been like discovering the plot before the beginning of the play. At the same time this direction is an excellent rule to be observ'd in management of all weighty affairs, the success of which chiefly depends upon secrecy.

The Poet here describes Telemachus rectifying the judgment of Ulysses; Is this any disparagement to that Heroe? It is not, but an exact representation of human nature; for the wisest man may receive, in particular cases, instructions from men less wise; and the eye of the understanding in a young man, may sometimes see further than that of age; that is, in the language of the Poet, a wise and mature Ulysses may sometimes be instructed by a young and unexperienc'd Telemachus.

The expression in the Greek is obscure, and it may be ask'd, to what refers Διος τερας? Dacier renders it, S'il vray que vous ayez vû un Prodige; or “if it be true that you have seen a prodigy:” Now there is no mention of any prodigy seen by Ulysses in all this interview, and this occasions the obscurity: but it is imply'd, for Ulysses directly promises the assistance of Jupiter; and how could he depend upon it, but by some prodigy from Jupiter? Eustathius thus understands the words; Τερας, εξ ου ορμωμενος εφης αμυντορα τον Δια ημιν εσεθαι. And then the meaning will be, “If the prodigy from Jupiter be evident, there is no occasion to concern our selves about the houshold train.” But then does not that expression imply doubt, and a jealosy, that Ulysses might possibly depend too much upon supernatural assistance? It only insinuates, that he ought to be certain in the interpretation of the prodigy, but Telemachus refers himself entirely to Ulysses, and acquiesces in his judgment.

It is manifest that this vessel had spent the evening of the preceding day, the whole night and part of the next morning, in sailing from the place where Telemachus embark'd: For it is necessary to remember that Telemachus to avoid the Suitors had been obliged to fetch a large compass, and land upon the northern coast of Ithaca; and consequently the vessel was necessitated to double the whole Isle on the western side to reach the Ithacan bay. This is the reason that it arrives not till the day afterwards, and that the Herald dispatched by the associates of Telemachus, and Eumæus from the country, meet upon the road, as they go to carry the news of the return of Telemachus to Penelope. It is likewise evident that the lodge of Eumæus was not far distant from the place; for he sets out toward the City after eating in the morning, and passing some time in conference with Telemachus, delivers his message, and returns in the evening of the same day.

This little circumstance distinguishes characters, and gives variety to Poetry: It is a kind of painting, which always varies its figures by some particular ornament, or attitude, so as no two figures are alike: The contrary conduct would make an equal confusion both in Poetry and Painting, and an indistinction of persons and characters. I will not promise that these particularities are of equal beauty, as necessity, especially in modern languagues; the Greek is always flowing, sonorous and harmonious; the language, like leaves, oftentimes conceals barrenness, and a want of fruit, and renders the sense at least beautiful, if not profitable; this is wanted in some degree in English Poetry, where it is not always in our power to conceal the nakedness with ornaments: This particularity before us is of absolute necessity, and could not well be avoided; the indiscretion of the Herald in speaking aloud, discovers the return of Telemachus to the Suitors, and is the incident that brings about their following debates, and furnishes out the entertainment of the succeeding part of this book.

This verse is inserted with great judgment, and gives an air of probability to the whole relation; for if it be ask'd why the Suitors defer to seize the supreme power, and to murder Telemachus, they being so superior in number? Antinous himself answers, that they fear the people, who favour the cause of Telemachus, and would revenge his injuries: 'Tis for this reason that they form'd the ambush by sea; and for this reason Antinous proposes to intercept him in his return from the country: they dare not offer open violence, and therefore make use of treachery. This speech of Antinous forms a short under-plot to the Poem; it gives us pain (says Eustathius) for Telemachus, and holds us in suspense till the intimacy is unravell'd by Amphinomus.

The whole harangue is admirable in Homer: the diction is excellently suited to the temper of Antinous, who speaks with precipitation: His mind is in agitation and disorder, and consequently his language is abrupt, and not allowing himself time to explain his thoughts at full length, he falls into ellipses and abbreviations. For instance, he is to speak against Telemachus, but his contempt and resentment will not permit him to mention his name, he therefore calls him τον ανδρα; thus in μηττι κακον ρεζωσι δεδοικα is understood; thus likewise in this verse,

the word ολοθρευσωμεν, or ανελωμεν, must be understood, to make the sense intelligible. Thus also after ει δ' υμιν οδε μυθος, αφανδανει, to make Αλλα in the next sentence begin it significantly, we must supply και ου δοκει καλον ο φονος; then the sense is compleat; If this opinion displease, and his death appear not honourable, but you would have him live, &c. otherwise αλλα βουλεσσθε must be constru'd like βουλεσθε δε; and lastly, to image the disorder of Antinous more strongly, Homer inserts a false quantity, by making the first syllable in βουλεσθε short. Antinous attends not, thro' the violence of his spirit, to the words he utters, and therefore falls into this error, which excellenty represents it. It is impossible to retain these Ellipses in the translation, but I have endeavour'd to shew the warmth of the speaker, by putting the words into Interrogations, which are always utter'd with vehemence, and signs of hurry and precipitation.

We are not to gather from this expression, that Penelope had any particular tenderness for Amphinomus, but it means only that he was a person of some justice and moderation. At first view, there seems no reason why the Poet should distinguish Amphinomus from the rest of the Suitors, by giving him this humane character; but in reality there is an absolute necessity for it. Telemachus is doom'd to die by Antinous: here is an intricacy form'd, and how is that Heroe to be preserv'd with probability? The Poet ascribes a greater degree of tenderness and moderation to one of the Suitors, and by this method preserves Telemachus. Thus we see the least circumstance in Homer has its use and effect; the art of a good Painter is visible in the smallest sketch, as well as in the largest draught.

Strabo, lib. 7. quotes this verse of Homer, and tells us that some Critics thus reads it.

preferring τομουροι to θεμεστες; for, add they, θεμιστες no where in Homer signifies Oracles, but constantly laws or councils. Tmarus or Tomarus was a mountain on which the oracle of Jupiter stood, and in process of time it was used to denote the Oracles themselves. Τομουρος is form'd like the word οικουρος, the former signifies custos Tmari, the latter custos domûs: in this sense, Amphinomus advises to consult the Dodonæan oracles, which were given from the mountain Tmarus: But, adds Strabo, Homer is to be understood more plainly; and by θεμιστες, the councils, the will and decisions of the oracles are imply'd, for those decisions were held as laws; thus βουλη, as wells as θεμιστες, signifies the Dodonæan Oracles.

Neither is it true (observes the Scholiast upon Strabo) that θεμιστες never signifies Oracles in Homer: for in the Hymn to Apollo (and Thucydides quotes that hymn as Homer's) the poet thus uses it,

Strabo himself uses θεμιστειαν in this sense, lib. 17. and in the oracles that yet are extant, θεμιστευειν frequently signifies oracula reddere: and in Ælian (continues the Scholiast) lib. 3. chap. 43, 44. ου σε θεμιστευσω, signifies non tibi oracula reddam; and Hesychius renders θεμιστες by μαντεια, χρησμοι, Prophecy or Oracles.

After this Verse Eustathius recites one that is omitted in most of the late editions as spurious, at least improper.

That is, Medon was out of the court, whereas the Suitors form'd their council within it: The line is really to be suspected; for a little above, Homer directly tells us, that the Suitors left the Palace.

It is likewise very evident that they stood in the open air, for they discover the ship returning from the ambush, and sailing into the bay. How then can it be said of the Suitors, that they form'd their assembly in the court, οι δ' εδοθε μητιν υφαινον.. Besides, continues Dacier, they left the palace, and placed themselves under the lofty wall of it.

How then is it possible to see the ship entring the port, when this wall must necessarily obstruct the sight? The two verses therefore evidently contradict themselves, and one of them must consequently be rejected: she would have the line read thus;

But all the difficulty vanishes by taking Αυλη, as it is frequently used, to denote any place open to the air, and consequently not the court, but the court-yard, and this is the proper signification of the word. Then Medon may stand on the outside of the wall of the court-yard, Αυλης εκτος, and over-hear the debates of the Suitors who form their council within it, or εδοθε μητιν υφαινον. And as for the wall intercepting the view of the Suitors, this is merely conjecture; and 'tis more rational to imagine that the court-yard was open seaward, that so beautiful a prospect as the ocean might not be shut up from the palace of a King; or at least, the palace might stand upon such an eminence as to command the ocean.

This whole passage is thus understood by Eustathius; By δηειον υποδδεισας Homer means the Ithacans; and he likewise affirms that the people who demanded vengeance of Ulysses were also the Ithacans. It is not here translated in this sense, the construction rather requires it to be understood of the Thesprotians, who were allies of Ulysses, and by vertue of that alliance demanded Eupithes, the Father of Antinous, out of the hands of Ulysses. But I submit to the Reader's judgment.

'Tis observable that Penelope in the compass of two lines recites four heads of her complaint; such contractions of thought and expression being natural to persons in anger, as Eustathius observes; she speaks with heat, and consequently starts from thought to thought with precipitation. The whole speech is animated with a generous resentment, and she concludes at once like a Mother and a Queen; like a Mother, with affection for Telemachus; and like a Queen with authority, παυσαθαι κελομαι.

This whole discourse of Eurymachus is to be understood by the way of contrariety: There is an obvious and a latent Interpretation; for instance, when he says,

it obviously means the blood of the person who offers violence to Telemachus; but it may likewise mean the blood of Telemachus, and the construction admits both interpretations: Thus also when he says, that no person shall lay hands upon Telemachus, while he is alive, he means that he will do it himself: and lastly, when he adds,

the apparent signification is, that Telemachus has occasion only to fear a natural death; but he means if the oracle of Jupiter commands them to destroy Telemachus, that then the Suitors will take away his life. He alludes to the foregoing speech of Amphinomus:

It would be superfluous to translate all the various interpretations of this passage; it will be sufficiently intelligible to the Reader, if he looks upon it only to imply that there was an hill in Ithaca called the Hermæan hill, either because there was a Temple, Statue, or Altar of Mercury upon it; and so called from that Deity.

It has been written that Mercury being the Messenger of the Gods, in his frequent journeys clear'd the roads, and when he found any stones, he threw them in an heap out of the way, and these heaps were called ερμαιοι, or Mercuries. The circumstance of his clearing the roads is somewhat odd, but why might not Mercury as well as Trivia preside over them, and have his images erected in publick ways, because he was supposed to frequent them as the messenger of the Gods?

This book takes up no more time than the space of the thirty eighth day; for Telemachus reaches the lodge of Eumæus in the morning, a little after he dispatches Eumæus to Penelope, who returns in the evening of the same day. The book in general is very beautiful in the original; the discovery of Ulysses to Telemachus is particularly tender and affecting: It has some resemblance with that of Joseph's discovery of himself to his brethren, and it may not perhaps be disagreeable to see how two such Authors describe the same passion. I am Joseph, I am your brother Joseph.

But it must be own'd that Homer falls infinitely short of Moses: He must be a very wicked man, that can read the History of Joseph without the utmost touches of compassion and transport. There is a majestick simplicity in the whole relation, and such an affecting portrait of human nature, that it overwhelms us with vicissitudes of joy and sorrow. This is a pregnant instance how much the best of heathen Writers is inferior to the divine Historian upon a parallel subject, where the two Authors endeavour to move the softer passions. The same may with equal truth be said in respect to Sublimity; not only in the instance produced by Longinus, viz. Let there be light, and there was light. Let the earth be made, and the earth was made: but in general, in the more elevated parts of Scripture, and particularly the whole book of Job; which, with regard both to sublimity of thought, and morality, exceeds beyond all comparison the most noble parts of Homer.