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Poetry is a mixture of History and Fable; the foundation is historical, because the Poet does not entirely neglect truth; the rest is fabulous, because naked truth would not be sufficiently surprizing; for the Marvellous ought to take place, especially in Epic Poetry. But it may be ask'd, does not Homer offend against all degrees of probability in these Episodes of the Sirens, Scylla and Charybdis, Cyclops and Antiphates? How are these incredible stories to be reduc'd into the bounds of probability? 'tis true, the Marvellous ought to be used in Epic Poetry; but ought it to transgress all power of belief? Aristotle in his Art of Poetry lays down a rule to justify these incidents: A Poet, says that Author, ought to prefer things impossible, provided they are probable, before things possible, that are nevertheless incredible. Chap. 15. This rule is not without obscurity; but Monsieur Dacier has explain'd it in his Annotations upon that Author: A thing may be impossible, and yet probable: Thus when the Poet introduces a Deity, any incident humanly impossible receives a full probability by being ascribed to the skill and power of a God: 'Tis thus we justifie the story of the transformation of the ship of the Phæacians into a rock, and the fleet of Æneas into Sea-nymphs. But such relations ought not to be too frequent in a Poem; for it is an established rule, that all incidents which require a divine probability only, should be so disengaged from the action, that they may be substracted from it, without destroying it; for instance, if we omit the transformation of the ship, the action of the Odyssey will retain the same perfection. And therefore those Episodes which are necessary, and make essential parts of the Poem, ought to be grounded upon human probability; now the Episodes of Circe, Polypheme, the Sirens, &c. are necessary to the action of the Odyssey: But will any man say they are within the bounds of human probability? How then shall we solve this difficulty? Homer artificially has brought them within the degrees of it; he makes Ulysses relate them before a credulous and ignorant assembly; he lets us into the character of the Phæacians, by saying they were a very dull nation, in the sixth book,

It is thus the Poet gives probability to his fables, by reciting them to a people who believed them, and who through a laziness of life were fond of romantic stories; he adapts himself to his audience, and yet even here he is not unmindful of his more intelligent Readers; he gives them (observes Bossu) in these fables all the pleasure that can be reap'd from physical or moral truths, disguis'd under miraculous Allegories, and by this method reconciles them to poetical probability.

There are several heads to which Probability may be reduced; either to Divinity, and then nothing is improbable, for every thing is possible to a Deity; or to our Ideas of things whether true or false: thus in the descent of Ulysses into Hell, there is not one word of probability or historic truth, but if we examine it by the ideas that the old world entertain'd of Hell, it becomes probable; or lastly, we may have respect to vulgar opinion or fame; for a Poet is at liberty to relate a falshood, provided it be commonly believed to be true. We might have recourse to this last rule, which is likewise laid down by Aristotle, to vindicate the Odyssey, if there were occasion for it; for in all ages such fables have found belief.

I will only add, that Virgil has given a sanction to these stories, by inserting them in his Æneis; and Horace calls them by the remarkable epithet of specious miracles.

Longinus calls these fables Dreams, but adds, that they are the dreams of Jupiter; he likewise blames these Episodes, because in all of them there is much more fable and narration than action: Which criticism may perhaps be too severe, if we consider that past adventures are here brought into present use, and though they be not actions, yet they are the representations of actions, agreeable to the nature of Episodes.

It may be question'd if Virgil is so happy in the choice of the audience, to which he relates many of these fables; the Carthaginians were not ignorant, like the Phæacians: From whence then do his stories receive their Probability? It is not so easy to answer this objection, unless we have recourse to common fame: Virgil was not the Author of them, Homer had establish'd them, and brought them into fame, so that Virgil had common opinion to vindicate him, join'd with Homer's authority.

It is difficult to distinguish what is truth from what is fiction in this relation: Diodorus, who was a Sicilian, speaks of Æolus, and refers to this passage: “This is that Æolus, says he, who entertain'd Ulysses in his voyages: He is reported to have been a pious and just Prince, and given to hospitality, and therefore φιλος αθανατοις, as Homer expresses it.” But whence has the fable of his being the Governor of the Winds taken its foundation? Eustathius tells us, that he was a very wise man, and one who from long observation could foretell what weather was like to follow: others say he was an Astronomer, and studied chiefly the nature of the Winds; and as Atlas from his knowledge in Astrology was said to sustain the heavens; so Æolus, from his experience and observation, was fabled to be the ruler or disposer of the Winds. But what explication can be given of this bag, in which he is said to bind the Winds? Eratosthenes, continues Eustathius, said pleasantly, that we shall then find the places where Ulysses voyag'd, when we have discover'd the artist, or cobler, τον σκυτεα, who sew'd up this bag of the winds. But the reason of the fiction is supposed to be this: Æolus taught the use and management of sails, and having foretold Ulysses from what quarter the winds would blow, he may be said to have gather'd them into a kind of enclosure, and retain'd them as use should require. Diodorus explains it a little differently, lib. 5. Προς δε τουτοις την των ιστιων χρειαν τοις ναυτικοις επεισηγησασθαι, και απο της του πυρος προσημασιας παρατετηρηκοτα, προλεγειν τους εγκωριους ανεμους ευστοχως εξ ου ταμιαν ανεμων μυθος ανεδειξε; that is, “He taught the use of sails, and having learn'd from observing the bearing of the smoke and fires (of those Vulcanian Islands) what winds would blow, he usually foretold them with exactness, and from hence he is fabled to be the disposer of the Winds.” The words of Varro, quoted by Servius, are to the same purpose: Varro autem dicit hunc insularum regem fuisse, ex quarum nebulis & fumo Vulcaniæ insulæ prædicens futura flabra ventorum, ab imperitis visus est ventos suâ potestate retinere.

Polybius will not admit that this story of Æolus is entirely fable; and Strabo is of the same opinion, that Ulysses was in the Sicilian seas; and that there was such a King as Æolus, he affirms to be truth, but that he met with such adventures is, in the main, fiction. There may another reason, as Eustathius observes, be given for the fiction of binding up the winds in a bag: they who practis'd the Art of Incantation or charms, made use of the skin of a Dolphin, and pretended by certain ceremonies to bind or loose the winds as they pleased; and this practice is a sufficient ground to build upon in Poetry.

The solution also of Bochart is worth our notice: Homer borrowed the word Αιολας from the Phæacian Aol, which signifies a whirlwind or tempest, from whence the Greeks form'd their word αελλα; the Phæacians observing the King of this Island to be very expert in foretelling the winds, called him King Aolin, or King of the winds and storms; from hence Homer form'd a proper name and call'd him Αιολος. It must be confess'd, that this solution is ingenious, and not without an appearance of probability.

But having laid together what may be said in vindication of this story of Æolus: Justice requires that I should not suppress what has been objected against it by no less a Critic than Longinus: he observes that a genius naturally lofty sometimes falls into trifling; an instance of this, adds he, is what Homer says of the bag wherein Æolus inclosed the winds. Cap. 7. περι υψους.

The word in the orginal is πλωτη: some take it, as Eustathius remarks, for a proper name; but Aristarchus believes Homer intended to express by it a floating Island, that was frequently removed by concussions and earthquakes, for it is seen sometimes on the right, at other times on the left hand; the like has been said of Delos; and Herodotus thus describes the Island Echemis in the Ægyptian seas. Dionysius, in his περιηγησις, affirms, that this Island is not called by the name of πλωτη, by reason of its floating, but because it is an Island of fame, and much sail'd unto, or πλωτη by navigators; that is, πλεομενη, or εν τοποις πλεομενοις κειμενη, or lying in seas of great navigation: but perhaps the former opinion of Aristarchus may be preferable, as it best contributes to raise the wonder and admiration of the credulous ignorant Phæacians, which was the sole intention of Ulysses.

These Islands were seven in number, (but eleven at this day) Strongyle, Hiera, Didyme, Hicesia, Lipara, Ericodes, and Phænic{i}des, all lying in the Sicilian seas, as Diodorus Siculus testifies; but differs in the name of one of the Islands.

Strabo is of opinion, that the Island call'd by Homer, the Æolian, is Strongyle; Η δε Στρογγυλη εστι διαπυρος, τω φεγγει πλεονεκτουσα, ενταυθα δε τον Αιολον οικησαι φασι. “This Island Strongyle abounds with subterraneous fires, &c. and here Æolus is said to have reign'd.” Pliny agrees with Strabo, lib. 3. but Dacier understands it to be Lipara, according to Virgil, Æn. lib. 8. but in reality the seven were all call'd the Æolian Islands.

But why is it fabled to be surrounded with a wall of brass? Eustathius says, that this may proceed from its being almost inaccessible; but this reason is not sufficient to give foundation to such a fiction. Dacier observes that it is thus described, because of the subterranean fires, which from time to time break out from the entrails of this Island. Aristotle speaking of Lipara, which is the most considerable of the Æolian Islands, thus describes it; “All night long the Island Lipara appears enlighten'd with fires.” The same relation agrees with Strongyle, call'd Strombolo at this day.

I will take the liberty to propose a conjecture, which may perhaps not unhappily give a reason of this fiction of the wall of brass, from this description of Aristotle: All night fires appear (says that Author) from this Island, and these fires falling upon the seas, might cast a ruddy reflexion round the Island, which to navigators might look like a wall of brass enclosing it. This is but a conjecture drawn from appearances; but to write according to appearances is allowable in Poetry, where a seeming or a real truth may be used indifferently.

Diodorus Siculus mentions the names of the six sons of Æolus, but is silent concerning his daughters, and therefore others, who can find mysteries in the plainest description, assure us, that this is not to be understood historically, but allegorically: Æolus represents the year, his twelve children are the twelve months, six of which are female, to denote those six months in which the earth brings forth her fruits; by his six sons the other months are understood, in which the seed is sown, or in which the herbs, fruits, &c. are nourished in order to production, these may therefore be called males. But this is to darken an Author into mystery, not to explain him. Dacier gives us another allegorical interpretation: The Poet makes him the governor of the winds, and gives him twelve children, these denote the twelve principal winds; half of which children are males, half females; the males denote the winter winds, which as it were brood upon the earth, and generate its increase; the females those warmer seasons of the year, when the more prolific winds blow, and make the earth teem with fruitfulness: These children of Æolus are in continual feasts in his Palace; that is, the winds are continually fed by the exhalations from the earth, which may be call'd their food or nourishment: The brothers and sisters inter-marry; this denotes the nature of the winds, which blow promiscuously, and one wind unites it self with another from all quarters of the world indifferently: The brothers and sisters are said to sleep by night together; that is, the winds are usually still and calm, and as it were rest together, at that season. But what occasion is there to have recourse to an uncertain Allegory, when such great names as Polybius, Strabo, and Diodorus assure us, that this relation is in part true History; and if there was really such a King as Æolus, why might he not be a father of six sons and as many daughters? I should prefer a plain History to a dark Allegory.

Homer was not unacquainted with the wonders related of this Island Lipara. “In this Island, says Aristotle, a monument is reported to be, of which they tell miracles: they assure us that they hear issuing from it the sound of timbrels or cymbals, plainly and distinctly.” It is easy to perceive that this is founded upon the noise the fires make which are enclosed in the caverns of this Island, and that Homer alludes to the ancient name of it, which in the Phœnician language (Meloginin, as Bochart observes) signifies the land of those who play upon instruments. We learn from Callimachus, in his Hymn to Diana, that Lipara was originally call'd Meligounis. She (Diana) went to find out the Cyclops: she found them in Lipara, for that is the name the Isle now bears, but anciently it was call'd Meligonnis; they were labouring a huge mass of red hot iron, &c. So that Homer is not all invention, but adapts his Poetry to tradition and ancient story. Dacier.

Eustathius observes that these fires were a kind of beacons kept continually burning to direct Navigators; the smoke gave notice by day, the light of the flame by night. Ithaca was environ'd with rocks, and consequently there was a necessity for this care, to guide sea-faring men to avoid those rocks, and to point out the places of landing with security.

But is it not an imputation to the wisdom of Ulysses, to suffer himself to be surpriz'd with sleep, when he was almost ready to enter the ports of his own country? and is it not probable that the joy he must be suppos'd to receive at the sight of it, should not induce him to a few hours watchfulness? It is easier to defend his sleeping here, than in the 13th of the Odyssey: the Poet very judiciously tells us, that Ulysses for nine days together almost continually wak'd and took charge of the vessel, and the word κεκμηωτα shews that nature was wearied out, and that he fell into an involuntary repose; it can therefore be no diminution to his character to be forced to yield to the calls of nature, any more than it is to be hungry: His prudence and love of his country sufficiently appear from the care he took thro' the space of nine days to arrive at it; so that this circumstance must be imputed to the infirmity of human nature, and not to a defect of care or wisdom in Ulysses.

This relation has been blam'd as improbable; what occasion was there to unbind the bag, when these companions of Ulysses might have satisfy'd their curiosity that there was no treasure in it from the brightness of it? But Homer himself obviates this objection, by telling us that Æolus fasten'd it in the vessel, as Eustathius observes,

Bossu gives us the moral of this fable or allegory, cap. 10. lib. 1. By the winds inclosed in the bag, into which the companions of Ulysses were so unwise as to pry, is to be understood, that we ought not to intrude into those mysteries of government which the Prince intends to keep secret: The tempests and confusions rais'd by the loosing the winds, represent the mischiefs and disorders that arise from such a vain curiosity in the subject: A wise people permit the winds to rest without molestation, and satisfie themselves with those that the Prince is pleas'd to release, and believe them to be the most proper and useful. But whatever judgment is pass'd upon this explication, it is certainly an instance of the ill consequences of avarice, and unseasonable curiosity.

We ought not to infer from this passage, that Homer thought a person might lawfully take away his own life to avoid the greatest dangers; what Ulysses here speaks arises from the violence of a sudden passion, and gives us a true picture of Human Nature: The wisest of men are not free from the infirmity of passion, but reason corrects and subdues it. This is the case in the instance before us; Ulysses has so much of the man in him as to be liable to the passion of man; but so much virtue and wisdom as to restrain and govern it.

This unhospitable character of Æolus may seem contrary to the human disposition which Homer before ascrib'd to him; he therefore tells us, that Ulysses appear'd to him to be an object of divine vengeance, and that to give him assistance would be to act against the will of the Gods. But, observes Eustathius, is not this an ill-chosen relation to be made to the Phæacians, as the Critics have remark'd, and might it not deter them from assisting a man whom Æolus had rejected as an enemy to the Gods? He answers, that it was evident to the Phæacians, that Ulysses was no longer under the displeasure of Heaven, that the imprecations of Polypheme were fulfilled; he being to be transported to his own country by strangers, according to his prayer in the ninth of the Odyssey, and consequently the Phæacians have nothing to fear from the assistance which they lend Ulysses.

This passage has been thought to be very difficult; but Eustathius makes it intelligible: The Land of the Læstrigons was fruitful, and fit for pasturage; it was the practice to tend the sheep by day, and the oxen by night; for it was infested by a kind of fly that was very grievous to the oxen by day, whereas the wool of the sheep defended them from it: and therefore the shepherds drove their oxen to pasture by night. If the same shepherd who watched the sheep by day, could pass the night without sleep, and attend the oxen, he perform'd a double duty, and consequently merited a double reward. Homer says, that the ways of the night and day were near to each other, that is, the pastures of the sheep and oxen, and the ways that led to them were adjacent; for the shepherd that drove his flocks home, (or εισελαων, as Homer expresses it,) could call to the herdsman, who drove his herds to pasture, or εξελαων, and be heard with ease, and therefore the roads must be adjoining.

Crates gives us a very different interpretation: He asserts that Homer intended to express the situation of the Læstrigons, and affirms that they lay under the head of the Dragon, (Κεφαλην δρακοντος, which Dacier renders the tail of a Dragon) according to Aratus,

which Tully thus translates,

If this be true, the Poet intended to express that there was scarce any night at all among the Læstrigons, according to that of Manilius,

But how will this agree with the situation of the Læstrigons, who were undoubtedly Sicilians, according to the direct affirmation of Thucydides, lib. 6. of his History? Besides, if Læstrigonia lay under the head of the Dragon, Ulysses must have spent seven months instead of seven days, in sailing from the Æolian Islands to that country. Neither is there any necessity to have recourse to this solution; for what signifies the length or shortness of the day to the double wages of the shepherds, when it was paid to him who took upon him a double charge of watching the whole day and night, which comprehends the space of four and twenty hours; which alone, whether the greater part of it was by night or day, entituled the shepherd to a double reward? I therefore should rather chuse the former interpretation, with which Didymus agrees. Νυκτεριναι, και ημεριναι νομαι εγγυς εισι της πολεως; that is, “both the night pastures, and those of the day, are adjacent to the city.

It is evident that the Læstrigons also inhabited Formiæ, a city of Campania near Cajeta: Thus Horace, lib. 3. Ode 17.

It was also call'd Hormiæ, according to Strabo, Φορμιαι, Λακωνικον κτισμα, Ορμιαι λεγομενον δια το ευορμον; that is, “Formiæ was built by a Laconian, call'd also Hormiæ, from its being an excellent station for ships.” Tully had this place in view in his epistle to Atticus, lib. 2. Epist. 13. Si vero in hanc τηλεπυλον, veneris λαιστρυγονιην, Formias dico. And Pliny to the same purpose, lib. 3. cap. 5. Oppidum Formiæ, Hormiæ ante dictum ut existimavêre, antiqua Læstrigonum sedes. But how will this agree with Homer, who places them in Sicily, and Tully and Pliny in Campania in Italy?

Dacier answers, that they were originally Sicilians, as appears from Pliny, lib. 3. Cap. 8. Flumina, Symæthus, Terias, intus Læstrigonii campi, oppidum Leontini. And why might not these Læstrigons, or a Colony of them, leave Sicily to settle in Italy, as it is evident the Phæacians had done, and fix'd in Corcyra? Bochart's opinion concerning this nation is not to be neglected; the words Læstrigons and Leontines are of the same import; Læstrigon is a Phœnician name, Lais tircam, that is, a devouring Lion; this is render'd literally by the Latin word Leontinum, and both denote the savage and Leonine disposition of this people: the word Lamus is also of Phœnician extract: Laham, or Lahama, signifies a Devourer; from hence probably was deriv'd that Lamia, who devour'd young infants, mention'd by Horace in his Art of Poetry.

We are inform'd that there was a Queen of Libya of that name, by Diodorus Siculus; she was a person of great beauty, but of great barbarity.

It may appear at the first view, that Ulysses took more care of himself than of his companions; and it may be ask'd, why did he not restrain them from entring the bay, when his caution plainly shews that he was apprehensive of danger? had he more fear than the rest of the company? No; but a greater foresight; a wise man provides as far as lies within his power against all contingencies, and the event shews, that his companions were rash, and he wise to act with so much circumspection; they staid not for command, and therefore were justly punished for acting precipitately without the direction of their General and King.

It is not evident from whence Ulysses had the knowledge of these particulars; the persons whom he sent to search the land perish'd in the attempt, or were destroy'd with the fleet by the Læstrigons: How then could this relation be made to Ulysses? It is probable that he had his information from Circe or Calypso, for Circe in the sequel of the Odyssey tells Ulysses, that she was acquainted with all the sufferings that he had undergone by sea; and if she, as a Goddess, knew his adventures, why might she not relate to him these particulars? Homer a little lower tells us, that the Læstrigons transfix'd (πειροντες) the companions of Ulysses, and then carried them away on their weapons like so many fishes; others prefer εροντες, that is, connecting them together like a range of fishes; both which very well express the prodigious strength of these Giants: others chuse the word ασπαιροντας, or, “they eat them yet alive (palpitantes) like fishes.” The preference is submitted to the Reader.

I will only add, that possibly the relation of the barbarity of Polypheme, and Antiphates, with respect to their eating the flesh of men, may not be entirely fabulous: Modern history assures us, that savages have been found in parts of the world lately discover'd, who eat the bodies of their enemies: It is therefore no wonder that the more polite and civiliz'd nations of Antiquity, look'd upon such men as monsters, and that their Poets painted them as such, or perhaps aggravated the fierte, or fierceness of their features, struck with horror at their brutal inhumanity.

Hesiod in his Theogony agrees with Homer as to the Genealogy of Circe and Æetes.

That is, “Perseis the daughter of Oceanus bore to Phæbus, Circe and King Æetes.” But why are they fabled to be the offspring of the sun? Eustathius answers, either from their high birth, as the great personages of Antiquity were call'd Διογενεις, or the sons of Jupiter, and the Sun in the ancient Mythology represented that Deity; or from their extraordinary beauty, which might be compar'd to the Sun, or from their illustrious actions. But perhaps the whole might be deriv'd from the way of speaking among the Orientals; at this day we are inform'd from the best Historians, that such language prevails in the eastern countries, and Kings and great personages are call'd the brothers or offspring of the Sun.

This Ææa is a mountain or promontory in Italy: perhaps originally an Island, and still keeping the resemblance of it. Thus Procopius, Gothicorum, lib. 1. Circeium haud modico tractu in mare porrectum insulæ speciem fert, tam præternavigantibus quam terrestri itinere prætereuntibus: and Strabo, lib. 5. Κιρκαιον ορος νησιαζον θαλαττη τε και ελεσι. But is the relation that Homer makes of this Island, and of Circe, agreeable to truth? Undoubtedly it is not; but Homer was very well acquainted with the story of Medea, and applies what was reported of that Enchantress to Circe, and gives the name of Ææa to the island of Circe, in resemblance to Æa, a city of Colchos, the country of Medea and Æetes. That Homer was not a stranger to the story of Medea is evident, for he mentions the ship Argo in the twelfth Odyssey, in which Jason sail'd to Colchos, where Medea fell in love with him; so that tho' Circe be a fabled Deity, yet what Homer says of her, was applicable to the character of another person, and consequently a just foundation for a story in Poetry. With this opinion Strabo agrees.

Scaliger, lib. 5. of his Poetics observes, that there is a general resemblance between Ulysses in Homer, and Æneas in Virgil, and that Æneas acts in the same manner as Ulysses.

That Critic remarks, that tho' the attitudes of the two Heroes are the same, yet they are drawn by Virgil with a more masterly hand: Fusior & latior Homerus invenietur, pictior Virgilius & numeris astrictior.

Ulysses himself here takes a general view of the Island, but sends his companions for a more particular information; this was necessary to introduce the following story, and give it an air of probability; if he had made the experiment in his own person, his virtue would have been proof against the sorceries of Circe, and consequently there could not have been room for a description of her enchantments.

The interpretations of this passage are various; some, says Eustathius, judge these words not to proceed from the ignorance of Ulysses, but that they are the language of despair suggested by his continual calamities: For how could Ulysses be ignorant of the east or west, when he saw the sun rise and set every day? others understand it to signifie, that he was ignorant of the clime of the world (οπη κοσμικου κλιματος) in which this Island lay. Strabo was of opinion, that the appearances of the heavenly bodies, as the stars, &c. were different in this Island from the position which he had ever before observ'd in any country, and therefore he might well confess his ignorance, and express his concern for his almost desperate condition. He understands by ηως all that region thro' which the Sun passes opposite to the North. It is true, that the four quarters of the world may be supposed to be here mention'd by Ulysses, ηως may express the southern parts thro' which the sun passes, and ζοφος the opposite quarter, which may be said comparatively to be ζοφος, or dark: And then the rising and setting of the sun, will undeniably denote the eastern and western regions. Spondanus is of opinion, that Homer intended to express the four quarters of the world, otherwise the second verse is a tautology: Dacier calls it an explication of the first description. And indeed the mind of man is apt to dwell long upon any object, by which it is deeply affected, as Ulysses must here be supposed to be, and therefore he might enlarge upon the sentiment advanced in the former line. The meaning then will be this. I know not, says that Heroe, where this Island lies, whether east or west, where the Sun rises, or where he sets. I should therefore understand Ulysses to mean, that he knows not how this Island lies with respect to the rest of the world, and especially to Ithaca his own country. This is evident from his conduct when he sail'd from Formiæ the land of the Læstrigons; for instead of making toward the east where Ithaca lay, he bore to this Island of Circe, which lies on the west of Formiæ.

This expression may be thought unworthy of the mouth of an Heroe, and serve only to cause his companions to despair; but in reality it has a double effect, it gives us a lively picture of Human Nature, which in the greatest men will shew some degrees of sensibility, and at the same time it arms his friends against surprize, and sets the danger they are in full before their eyes, that they may proceed with due circumspection. We do not find that Ulysses abandons himself to despair, he still acts like a brave man, but joyns wisdom with bravery, and proceeds at once with the caution of a Philosopher, and the spirit of an Heroe.

Dacier is of opinion that Ulysses cast lotts out of an apprehension of being disobey'd if he had given positive commands; his companions being so greatly discourag'd by the adventures of Polypheme and the Læstrigons. It will be a nobler reason, and more worthy of an Heroe to say, that Ulysses was so far from declining a common danger, that he submits himself to an equal chance with his companions to undertake it: This expedition appear'd very hazardous, and if he had directly commanded a select number of his men to attempt it, they might have thought he had exposed them to almost certain destruction; but the contrary conduct takes away this apprehension, and at the same time shews the bravery of Ulysses, who puts himself upon a level with the meanest of his soldiers, and is ready to expose his person to an equality of danger.

Ulysses divides his men into two bodies; each contains two and twenty men: This is agreeable, observes Eustathius, to the former account of Homer; each vessel carried fifty men, six out of every one were destroy'd by the Ciconians, and therefore forty four is the exact number, inclusive of himself and the surviving company.

Virgil has borrow'd almost this whole description of Circe, and as Scaliger judges, perhaps with good reason, greatly improv'd it.

It must be confess'd, that Iræ leonum vincla recusantum, and the epithets and short descriptions adapted to the nature of each savage, are beautiful additions. Virgil likewise differs from Homer in the manner of the description: Homer draws the beasts with a gentleness of nature; Virgil paints them with the fierceness of savages. The reason of Homer's conduct is, because they still retain'd the sentiments of men, in the forms of beasts, and consequently their native tenderness.

There is a beautiful moral couch'd under this fable or allegory: Homer intended to teach, as Eustathius remarks, that pleasure and sensuality debase men into beasts. Thus Socrates understood it, as Xenophon informs us. Perhaps, adds Dacier, by the fawning wolves and lions that guard the portals of Circe's Palace, the Poet means to represent the attendants of such houses of debauchery, which appear gentle and courteous, but are in reality of a brutal disposition, and more dangerous than lions. But upon what foundation is this fable built? Many writers inform us, that Circe was a famous Courtezan, and that her beauty drew her admirers as it were by enchantment. Thus Horace writes,

It is evident, that Ulysses had a very intimate commerce with Circe, for Hesiod writes that he had two sons by her, Agrius and Latinus, who afterwards reign'd in Tuscany; other Authors call them Nausithous and Telegonus.

Dyonysius Halicarn. and Aristotle mention Telegonus as the son of Circe and Ulysses, who afterwards slew his father with the bone of a fish inadvertently. Thus Horace,

But then is not this intrigue a breach of Morality, and conjugal infidelity in that Heroe? I refer the Reader to Note XIV. of the fifth book of the Odyssey: I shall only add, that the notions of Morality are now very different from what they were in former ages: Adultery alone was esteemed criminal, and punish'd with death by the ancient Heathens: Concubinage was not only permitted, but thought to be honourable, as appears from the practice, not only of Heroes, but even of the Pagan Deities; and consequently this was the vice of the age, not in particular of Ulysses. But there is a stronger objection against Ulysses, and it may be asked, how is he to be vindicated for wasting no less space than a whole year in dalliance with an harlot? Penelope and his country seem both forgotten, and consequently he appears to neglect his own re-establishment, the chief design of the Odyssey: What adds some weight to this observation is, that his companions seem more sensible of his long absence from his country, and regret it more than that Heroe; for they awake him out of his dream, and intreat him to depart from the Island. It is therefore necessary to take away this objection: for if it be unanswerable, Ulysses is guilty of all the miseries of his family and country, by neglecting to redress them by returning; and therefore he must cease to be an Heroe, and is no longer to be propos'd as a pattern of Wisdom, and imitation, as he is in the opening of the Odyssey. But the stay of Ulysses is involuntary, and consequently irreproachable; he is in the power of a Deity, and therefore not capable of departing without her permission: this is evident: for upon the remonstrance made by his companions, he dares not undertake his voyage without her dismission. His asking consent plainly shews that it was not safe, if practicable, to go away without it; if he had been a free agent, her leave had been unnecessary: 'tis true, she tells him she will not detain him any longer against his inclinations; but this does not imply that his stay till then had been voluntary, or that he never had intreated to be dismissed before, but rather intimates the contrary: it only shews that now at last she is willing he should go away. But why should Ulysses stand in need of being admonished by his companions? does not this imply that he was unmindful of returning? This is only an evidence that they were desirous to return as well as he; but he makes a wise use of their impatience, and takes an occasion from their importunities to press for an immediate dismission.

In short, I am not pleading for perfection in the character of Ulysses: Human Nature allows it not, and therefore it is not to be ascribed to it in Poetry. But if Ulysses were here guilty, his character ceases to be of a piece; we no longer interest our selves in his misfortunes, since they are all owing to his own folly: the nature of the Poem requires, that he should be continually endeavouring to restore his affairs: if then he be here sunk into a Lethargy, his character is at once lost, his calamities are a just punishment, and the moral of the Odyssey is destroy'd, which is to shew Wisdom and Virtue rewarded, and Vice and Folly punished by the death of the suitors, and re-establishment of Ulysses.

It is an undoubted truth, that Homer ascribes more power to these magical drugs and Incantations than they have in reality; but we are to remember that he is speaking before a credulous audience, who readily believed these improbabilities, and at the same time he very judiciously provides for the satisfaction of his more understanding Readers, by couching an excellent moral under his fables; viz. that by indulging our appetites we sink below the dignity of Human Nature, and degenerate into brutality.

I am not in the number of those who believe that there never were any Magicians who perform'd things of an uncommon nature: The story of Jannes and Jambres, of the Witch of Endor, and Simon Magus, are undeniable instances of the contrary. Magic is suppos'd to have been first practis'd in Ægypt, and to have spread afterwards among the Chaldeans: It is very evident that Homer had been in Ægypt, where he might hear an account of the wonders perform'd by it. Dacier is of opinion, that these deluders, or Magicians, were mimics of the real miracles of Moses, and that they are described with a wand, in imitation of that great Prophet.

But if any person thinks that Magic is mere fable, and never had any existence, yet establish'd fame and common opinion justify a Poet for using it. What has been more ridicul'd than the winds being inclosed in a bag by Æolus, and committed to Ulysses? but as absurd as this appears, more countries than Lapland pretend to the power of selling a storm or a fair wind at this day, as is notorious from travellers of credit: and perhaps a Poet would not even in these ages be thought ridiculous, if speaking of Lapland, he should introduce one of these Venefica's, and describe the ceremonies she used in the performance of her pretended incantations. Milton not unhappily has introduc'd the imagin'd power of these Lapland Witches into his Paradise Lost.

In short, Virgil has imitated Homer in all these bold Episodes, and Horace calls them the Miracles of the Odyssey.

Longinus here reports a Criticism of Zoilus; he is very pleasant upon this transformation of the companions of Ulysses, and calls them, the squeaking pigs of Homer: we may gather from this instance the nature of his Criticisms, and conjecture that they tended to turn the finest incidents of Homer into ridicule. Burlesque was his talent, and instead of informing the reason by pointing out the errors of the Poem, his only aim was to make his Readers laugh; but he drew upon himself the indignation of all the learned world: he was known by the name of the vile Thracian slave, and liv'd in great want and poverty; and posterity prosecutes his memory with the same animosity. The man was really very learned, as Dionysius Halicarn. informs us: His morals were never reproach'd, and yet, as Vitruvius relates, he was crucify'd by Ptolemy, or as others write, ston'd to death, or burnt alive at Smyrna; so that his only crime was his defamation of Homer: a tragical instance of the great value which was set upon his Poetry by antiquity, and of the danger of attacking a celebrated Author with malice and envy.

We have here a very lively picture of a person in a great fright, which was admir'd, observes Eustathius, by the Ancients: There is not only a remarkable harmony in the flowing of the Poetry, but the very manner of speaking represents the disorder of the speaker; he is in too great an emotion to introduce his speech by any Preface, he breaks at once into it, without preparation, as if he could not soon enough deliver his thoughts. Longinus quotes these lines as an instance of the great judgment of Homer: there is nothing, says that Critic, which gives more life to a discourse, than the taking away the connections and conjunctions; when the discourse is not bound together and embarrass'd, it walks and slides along of it self, and will want very little oftentimes of going faster even than the thought of the Orator: Thus in Xenophon, Joining their bucklers, they gave back, they fought, they slew, they dy'd together; of the same nature is that of Eurylochus,

These periods thus cut off, and yet pronounc'd with precipitation, are signs of a lively sorrow; which at the same time hinders, yet forces him to speak.

Many such hidden transitions are to be found in Virgil, of equal beauty with this of Homer:

Here the Poet shews the earnestness of the speaker who is in so much haste to speak, that his thoughts run to the end of the sentence almost before his tongue can begin it. Thus Achæmenides in his flight from the Cyclops,

Here the Poet makes no connection with the preceding discourse, but leaves out the inquit, to express the precipitation and terror of Achæmenides.

But our countryman Spenser has equall'd if not surpass'd these great Poets of Antiquity, in painting a figure of Terror in the ninth Canto of the Fairy Queen, where Sir Trevisan flies from Despair.

The description sets the figure full before our eyes, he speaks short, and in broken and interrupted periods, which excellently represent, and in broken and interrupted periods, which excellently represent the agony of his thoughts; and when he is a little more confirm'd and embolden'd, he proceeds,

We see he breaks out into interrogations, which, as Longinus observes, give great motion, strength, and action to discourse. If the Poet had proceeded simply, the expression had not been equal to the occasion; but by these short questions, he gives strength to it, and shews the disorder of the speaker, by the sudden starts and vehemence of the periods. The whole Canto of Despair is a piece of inimitable Poetry; the picture of Sir Trevisan has a general resemblance to this of Eurylochus, and seems to have been copy'd after it, as will appear upon comparison.

The character of Eurylochus, who had married Climene the sister of Ulysses, is the character of a brave man, who being witness to the dreadful fate of his companions is diffident of himself, and judges that the only way to conquer the danger is to fly from it. To fear upon such an occasion, observes Dacier, is not Cowardice, but Wisdom. But what is more remarkable in this description, is the art of Homer in inserting the character of a brave man under so great a consternation, to set off the character of Ulysses, who knows how at once to be bold and wise; for the more terrible and desperate the adventure is represented by Eurylochus, the greater appears the intrepidity of Ulysses, who trusting to his own wisdom, and the assistance of the Gods, has the courage to attempt it. What adds to the merit of the action is, that he undertakes it solely for his companions, as Horace describes him:

This expression is used sarcastically by Ulysses, and in derision of his fears. Dacier remarks, that Ulysses having not seen what is related by Eurylochus, believes his refusal to return, proceeds from his faint-heartedness: An instance, adds she, that we frequently form wrong judgments of mens actions, when we are ignorant of the motives of them. I confess I am of opinion, that there is some degree of cowardice in the character of Eurylochus: A man truly brave would not express such confusion and terror in any extremity; he is not to be inspirited either by Ulysses, or the example of his other companions, as appears from the sequel, insomuch that Ulysses threatens to kill him for a coward; this prevails over his first fears, and he submits to meet a future danger, merely to avoid one that is present. What makes this observation more just is, that we never see a brave man drawn by Homer or Virgil in such faint colours; but they always discover a presence of mind upon all emergencies.

This whole passage is to be understood allegorically. Mercury is Reason, he being the God of Science: The plant which he gives as a preservative against incantation is instruction; the root of it is black, the flower white and sweet; the root denotes that the foundation or principles of instruction appear obscure and bitter, and are distasteful at first, according to that saying of Plato, The beginnings ef instruction are always accompanied with reluctance and pain. The flower of Moly is white and sweet; this denotes that the fruits of instruction are sweet, agreeable, and nourishing. Mercury gives this plant; this intimates, that all instruction is the gift of Heaven: Mercury brings it not with him, but gathers it from the place where he stands, to shew that Wisdom is not confin'd to places, but that every where it may be found, if Heaven vouchsafes to discover it, and we are disposed to receive and follow it. Thus Isocrates understands the Allegory of Moly; he adds, Πικραν ειναι ριζαν αυτης το δε Μωλυος ανθος, λευκον κατα γαλα δια την του τελους παιδειας λαμπροτητα, ηδη και το ηδυ και τροφιμον. The root of Moly is bitter, but the flower of it white as milk, to denote the excellency of instruction, as well as the pleasure and utility of it in the end. He further illustrates the Allegory, by adding Καρπους της παιδειας ει και μη γαλακτι ικελους αλλα γλυκεις, &c. That is, “the fruits of instruction are not only white as milk, but sweet though they spring from a bitter root.

Maximus Tyrius also gives this story an allegorical sense, Dissert. 16. Αυτον μην τον Οδυσσεα ουχ ορας, ως παντοιαις συμφοραις αντιτεχνωμενος αρετη σωζει, τουτο αυτω το εκ Κιρκης Μωλυ, τουτο το εν θαλαττη κρηδεμνον; that is, “Dost thou not observe Ulysses, how by opposing virtue to adversity he preserves his life? This is the Scarf that protects him from Circe, this is the Scarf that delivers him from the storm, from Polypheme, from Hell, &c.

It is pretended that Moly is an Ægyptian plant, and that it was really made use of as a preservative against Enchantments: but I believe the Moly of Mercury, and the Nepenthe of Helen, are of the same production, and grow only in Poetical ground.

Ovid has translated this passage in his Metamorphosis, lib. 14.

There is a remarkable sweetness in the verse which describes the appearance of Mercury in the shape of a young man;

Virgil was sensible of the beauty of it, and imitated it.

But in the opinion of Macrobius, he falls short of Homer, lib. 5. Saturn 13. Prætermissâ gratiâ incipientis pubertatis του περ χαριεστατη Minus gratam fecit latinam descriptionem.

It may be ask'd if Ulysses is not as culpable as his companions, in drinking this potion? Where lies the difference? and how is the Allegory carried on, when Ulysses yields to the solicitation of Circe, that is Pleasure, and indulges, not resists his appetites? The moral of the fable is, that all pleasure is not unlawful, but the access of it: We may enjoy, provided it be with moderation. Ulysses does not taste till he is fortify'd against it; whereas his companions yielded without any care or circumspection; they indulged their appetites only, Ulysses tastes merely out of a desire to deliver his associates: he makes himself master of Circe, or Pleasure, and is not in the power of it, and enjoys it upon his own terms; they are slaves to it, and out of a capacity ever to regain their freedom but by the assistance of Ulysses. The general moral of the whole fable of Circe is, that pleasure is as dreadful an enemy as Danger, and a Circe as hard to be conquer'd as a Polypheme.

Eustathius observes, that we have here the picture of a man truly wise, who when Pleasure courts him to indulge his appetites, not only knows how to abstain, but suspects it to be a bait to draw him into some inconveniencies: A man should never think himself in security in the house of a Circe. It may be added, that these apprehensions of Ulysses are not without a foundation; from this intercourse with that Goddess, Telegonus sprung, who accidentally slew his father Ulysses.

This large description of the entertainment in the Palace of Circe is particularly judicious; Ulysses is in an house of pleasure, and the Poet dwells upon it, and shews how every circumstance contributes to promote and advance it. The attendants are all Nymphs, and the bath and perfumes usher in the feast and wines. The four verses that follow, are omitted by Dacier, and they are mark'd in Eustathius as superfluous; they are to be found in other parts of the Odyssey; but that, I confess, would be no argument why they should not stand here, (such repetitions being frequent in Homer) if they had a due propriety, but they contain a tautology; we see before a table spread for the entertainment of Ulysses, why then should that circumstance be repeated? If they are omitted, there will no chasm or incoherence appear, and therefore probably they were not originally inserted here by Homer.

Homer excellently carries on his allegory; he intends by this expression of the enlargement of the beauty of Ulysses's companions, to teach that men who turn from an evil course, into the paths of Virtue, excel even themselves; having learn'd the value of Virtue from the miseries they suffer'd in pursuit of Vice, they become new men, and as it were enjoy a second life. Eustathius.

If this simile were to be render'd literally it would run thus; “as calves seeing the droves of cows returning at night when they are fill'd with their pasturage, run skipping out to meet them; the stalls no longer detain them, but running round their dams they fill the plain with their lowings, &c.” If a similitude of this nature were to be introduced into modern Poetry, I am of opinion it would fall under ridicule for a want of delicacy: but in reality, images drawn from Nature, and a rural life, have always a very good effect; in particular, this before us enlivens a melancholy description of sorrows, and so exactly expresses in every point the joy of Ulysses's companions, we see them in the very description. To judge rightly of comparison, we are not to examine if the subject from whence they are deriv'd be great or little, noble or familiar, but we are principally to consider if the image produc'd be clear and lively, if the Poet have skill to dignifie it by Poetical words, and if it perfectly paints the thing it is intended to represent. This rule fully vindicates Homer, tho' he frequently paints low life, yet he never uses terms which are not noble; or if he uses humble words or phrases, it is with so much art, that, as Dionysius observes, they become noble and harmonious: In short, a Top may be used with propriety and elegance in a similitude by a Virgil, and the Sun may be dishonour'd by a Mævius; a mean thought express'd in noble terms being more tolerable, than a noble thought disgrac'd by mean expressions. Things that have an intrinsic greatness need only to be barely represented to fill the soul with admiration, but it shews the skill of a Poet to raise a low subject, and exalt common appearances into dignity.

The Poet paints Eurylochus uniformly, under great disorder of mind and terrible apprehensions: There is no similitude between Circe and Cyclops, with respect to the usage of the companions of Ulysses; but Homer puts these expressions into his mouth, to represent the nature of Terror, which confounds the thoughts, and consequently distracts the language of a person who is possessed by it. The character therefore of Eurylochus is the imitation of a person confounded with fears, speaking irrrationally and incoherently. Eustathius.

There should in all the Episodes of Epic Poetry appear a Convenience, if not a necessity of every incident; it may therefore be ask'd what Necessity there is for this descent of Ulysses into hell, to consult the shade of Tiresias? Could not Circe, who was a Goddess, discover to him all the future contingencies of his life? Eustathius excellently answers this objection; Circe declares to Ulysses the necessity of consulting Tiresias, that he may learn from the mouth of that Prophet, that his death was to be from the Ocean; she acts thus in order to dispose him to stay with her, after his return from the regions of the dead: or if she cannot persuade him to stay with her, that she may at least secure him from returning to her rival Calypso; she had promised him Immortality, but by this descent, he will learn that it is decreed that he should receive his death from the Ocean; for he died by the bone of a seafish call'd Xiphias. Her love for Ulysses induces her not to make the discovery her self, for it was evident she would not find credit, but Ulysses would impute it to her love, and the desire she had to deter him from leaving her Island. This will appear more probable, if we observe the conduct of Circe in the future parts of the Odyssey: she relates to him the dangers of Scylla and Charybdis, of the Oxen of Phœbus, and the Sirens; but says nothing concerning his death: This likewise gives an air of probability to the relation. The Isle of Circe was adjoining to Scylla and Charybdis, &c. and consequently she may be supposed to be acquainted with those places, and give an account of them to Ulysses with exactness, but she leaves the decrees of Heaven and the fate of Ulysses to the narration of the Prophet, it best suiting his character to see into futurity. By the descent of Ulysses into Hell may be signify'd, that a wise man ought to be ignorant of nothing, that he ought to ascend in thought into Heaven, and understand the heavenly appearances, and be acquainted with what is contained in the bowels of the earth, and bring to light the secrets of Nature: that he ought to know the nature of the Soul, what it suffers, and how it acts after it is separated from the body. Eustathius.

Homer here gives the reason why Tiresias should be consulted, rather than any other ghost, because

This expression is fully explain'd, and the notion of the soul after death, which prevail'd among the Antients, is set in a clear light, Verse 92, and 122, of the 23d book of the Iliads, to which passages I refer the Readers. But whence had Tiresias this privilege above the rest of the dead? Callimachus ascribes it to Minerva,

Tully mentions this preheminence of Tiresias in his first book of Divination. Perhaps the whole fiction may arise from his great reputation among the Antients for Prophecy; and in honour to his memory they might imagine that his soul after death retain'd the same superiority. Ovid in his Metamorphoses gives us a very jocular reason, for the blindness and prophetic knowledge of Tiresias, from a matrimonial contest between Jupiter and Juno. Cato Major, as Plutarch in his Political Precepts informs us, apply'd this verse to Scipio, when he was made Consul contrary to the Roman Statutes.

But I ought not to suppress what Diodorus Siculus relates concerning Tiresias. Biblioth. lib. 4. he tells us, that he had a daughter nam'd Daphne, a Priestess at Delphi. Παρ' ης φασι και τον ποιητην Ομηρον πολλα των επων σφετρισαμενον, κοσμησαι την ιδιαν ποιησιν. That is, “From whom it is said, that the Poet Homer received many (of the Sibyls) verses, and adorn'd his own Poetry with them.” If this be true, there lay a debt of gratitude upon Homer, and he pays it honourably, by this distinguishing character, which he gives to the father. An instance of a worthy disposition in the Poet, and it remains at once an honour to Tiresias, and a monument of his own gratitude.

This descent of Ulysses into Hell has a very happy effect, it gives Homer an opportunity to embellish his Poetry with an admirable variety, and to insert Fables and Histories that at once instruct and delight. It is particularly happy with respect to the Phæacians, who could not but highly admire a person whose wisdom had not only deliver'd him from so many perils on earth, but had been permitted by the Gods to see the regions of the dead, and return among the living: this relation could not fail of pleasing an audience, delighted with strange stories, and extraordinary adventures.

This whole scene is excellently imagin'd by the Poet, as Eustathius observes; the trees are all barren, the place is upon the shores where nothing grows; and all the rivers are of a melancholy signification, suitable to the ideas we have of those infernal regions. Ulysses arrives at this place, where he calls up the shades of the dead, in the space of one day; from whence we may conjecture, that he means a place that lies between Cumæ and Baiæ, near the lake Avernus, in Italy; which, as Strabo remarks, is the scene of the Necromancy of Homer, according to the opinion of Antiquity. He further adds, that there really are such rivers as Homer mentions, tho' not placed in their true situation, according to the liberty allowable to Poetry. Others write, that the Cimmerii once inhabited Italy, and that the famous cave of Pausilipe was begun by them about the time of the Trojan wars: Here they offered sacrifice to the Manes, which might give occasion to Homer's fiction. The Grecians, who inhabited these places after the Cimmerians, converted these dark habitations into stoves, bathes, &c.

Silius Italicus writes, that the Lucrine lake was antiently call'd Cocytus, lib. 12.

It is also probable, that Acheron was the antient name of Avernus, because Acherusia, a large water near Cumæ, flows into it by conceal'd passages. Silius Italicus informs us, that Avernus was also called Styx.

Here Hannibal offer'd sacrifice to the Manes, as it is recorded by Livy; and Tully affirms it from an antient Poet, from whom he quotes the following fragment;

This may seem to justifie the observation that Acheron was once the name of Avernus, tho' the words are capable of a different interpretation.

If these remarks be true, it is probable that Homer does not neglect Geography, as most Commentators judge. Virgil describes Æneas descending into Hell by Avernus, after the example of Homer. Milton places these rivers in Hell, and beautifully describes their natures, in his Paradise Lost.

Thus also agreeably to the idea of Hell the offerings to the infernal powers are all black, the Cimmerians lie in a land of darkness; the Heifer which Ulysses is to offer is barren, like that in Virgil.

to denote that the grave is unfruitful, that it devours all things, that it is a place where all things are forgotten.

Homer dismisses not the description of this house of Pleasure and Debauch, without shewing the Moral of his Fable, which is the ill consequences that attend those who indulge themselves in sensuality; this is set forth in the punishment of Elpenor. He describes him as a person of no worth, to shew that debauchery enervates our faculties, and renders both the mind and body incapable of thinking, or acting with greatness and bravery. At the same time these circumstantial relations are not without a good effect; for they render the story probable, as if it were spoken with the veracity of an History, not the liberty of Poetry.

I will conclude this book with a Paragraph from Plutarch's Morals: It is a piece of advice to the Fair Sex, drawn from this story of Circe and Ulysses. “They who bait their hooks (says this Philosopher) with intoxicated drugs may catch fish with little trouble; but then they prove dangerous to eat, and unpleasant to the taste: Thus women who use arts to ensnare their admirers, become wives of fools and madmen: They whom the sorceress Circe enchanted, were no better than brutes; and she used them accordingly, enclosing them with styes; but she lov'd Ulysses entirely, whose prudence avoided her intoxications, and made his conversation agreeable. Those women who will not believe that Pasiphae was ever enamour'd of a bull, are yet themselves so extravagant, as to abandon the society of men of sense and temperance, and to betake themselves to the embraces of brutal and stupid fellows.”