University of Virginia Library

We are now drawing to a conclusion of the Episodic narration of the Odyssey; it may therefore not be unentertaining to speak something concerning the nature of it, before we dismiss it.

There are two ways of relating past subjects: the one, simply and methodically by a plain rehearsal, and this is the province of History; the other artificially, where the Author makes no appearance in person, but introduces Speakers, and this is the practice of Epic Poetry. By this method the Poet brings upon the stage those very persons who perform'd the action he represents: he makes them speak and act over again the words and actions they spoke or perform'd before, and in some sort transports his auditors to the time when, and the places where, the action was done. This method is of great use, it prevents the Poet from delivering his story in a plain simple way like an Historian, it makes the Auditors witnesses of it, and the action discovers itself. Thus for instance, it is not Homer but Ulysses who speaks; the Poet is withdrawn, and the Heroe whose story we hear is as it were rais'd from the grave, and relates it in person to the audience. Aristotle observes, that the Epic Poem ought to be Dramatic, that is active; Homer (says that Author) ought to be especially commended for being the only Poet who knew exactly what to do; he speaks little himself, but introduces some of his persons, a man or a woman, a God or a Goddess; and this renders his Poem active or dramatic. Narration is the very soul that animates the Poem, it gives an opportunity to the Poet to adorn it with different Episodes; it has, as it were, the whole world for its stage, and gives him liberty to search thro' the Creation for incidents or adventures for the employment of his Heroes: Thus for instance, he was at liberty to ascribe the several dangers of Scylla and Charybdis, of Polypheme and Antiphates to Ulysses, tho' that Heroe had been as unacquainted with those dangers, as Æneas was in reality with Dido; the choice of the Episodes being not essential, but arbitrary.

In short, it is from this Episodic narration that the Poet could at all find room to place these Episodes in the Odyssey. Aristotle, 1 confess, has set no precise limits to the time of the action, but the Critics in general confine it to one Campaign; at least, they affirm this to be the most perfect duration, according to the model of the Iliad and Odyssey. Now this Episodic narration gives the Poet an opportunity to relate all that is contain'd in four books without breaking in upon the time of the action: for all that we read between the eighth book and the thirteenth comprehends only the space of one evening; namely, the evening of the thirty third day. The Poet inserts all the adventures that happen'd to Ulysses in almost ten years from his departure from Troy, into the compass of one evening by way of narration, and so maintains the Unity both of the time and action.

I speak not of the Narration in general; concerning which the curious may consult Bossu, or Dryden's preface to the translation of the Æneis.

The words in the original are ποτομοιο ροον ωκεανοιο, which Strabo judges to mean no more than a part of the ocean, for if it be otherwise understood it will be a tautology, and who would write that he went out of the ocean into the ocean, as it must be rendered if ποταμος be the same with θαλασσα in the next line? But it is perhaps better to understand the passage literally and plainly, only to denote the place from whence Ulysses return'd from his infernal voyage; that is, from the extremity of the Ocean. It is usual for the waves of the sea to bear violently and rapidly upon the same shores, the waters being pent up by the nearness of the land, and therefore forming a current, or ροον. So that the expression means no more than Ulysses surmounted this current, and then gain'd the wide Ocean.

It is likewise evident from the beginning of this book, that Ulysses pass'd only one night in Hell; for he arriv'd at the Cimmerians in one day, saw the visions of Hell in the following night, and in the space of the next day returned from the Cimmerians in the evening to Circe's Island, as appears from his going to repose immediately upon his landing.

It may be further prov'd that this was a Nocturnal interview, from the nature of the magical incantations which were always perform'd by night; all sacrifices were offer'd by night to the infernal powers, the offering it self was black, to represent the kingdom of darkness: Thus also in other Poets the Moon is said to turn pale at these magical rites, or as Virgil expresses it,

And indeed, as Eustathius observes (from whom this note is chiefly translated) it would have been absurd to have represented the realms of darkness survey'd by the light of the day.

This passage is full of obscurity: For how is it possible to suppose this Island of Circe to be the residence of the Morning; that is, for the day to rise immediately upon it, when it is known to lie in a western situation? Some have imagin'd that this is spoken solely with respect to Ulysses, who returning from the shades, might properly say that he arriv'd at the place where the day resides, that is to a place enlighten'd by the sun. Others understand it comparatively, with respect to the Cimmerians, or rather to the realms of death, which Homer places in the west; with regard to these, Ææa may be said to lie in the east, or in the poetical language, to be the residence of the morning. Besides the Circæan promontory is of an extraordinary altitude, and consequently the beams at sun-rising may fall upon it; nay, it is said to be illustrated by the Sun even by night. Others have conjectur'd, that what is here said implies no more than that Ulysses landed upon the eastern parts of the Island: And lastly, others not improbably refer the whole to the word Ocean in the former line, and then the whole passage will be clear, and agree with the fable of the Sun's rising and setting in the Ocean. This is what Eustathius remarks, who adds, that the Antients understood χοροι not to signify dances, but χωροι, the regions of the morning. I have translated it in the former sense, according to the consent of most interpreters: And I am persuaded it is used to denote the pleasure and gaiety which the Sun restores to the whole Creation, when dispelling the melancholy darkness, he restores light and gladness to the earth; which is imag'd to us by the playing or dancing of the first beams of the Sun; or rather of Aurora, who properly may be said to dance, being a Goddess. Dacier renders χοροι, dances; but judges that Homer here follows a fabulous Geography, and that as he transported the Cimmerians with all their darkness from the Bosphorus to Campania; so likewise he now removes Ææa with all its light from Cholchis into Italy: and therefore the Poet gives the properties and situation to the Island of Circe, which are only true of the eastern Cholchis.

It is very evident (continues she) that Homer was perfectly acquainted with the Phœnician story; he tells us that Elpenor was buried upon the promontory on the sea-shores, and that it was called by his name, Elpenor. Now the Phœnicians, who endeavour'd to naturalize all names in their own language, affirm'd, according to Bochart, that this promontory was not so call'd from Elpenor, but from their word Hilbinor, which signifies, ubi albescit lux matutinæ; that is, “where the dawning of the day begins to appear:” This promontory being of great height, the rays of the morning might fall upon it; and this tradition might furnish Homer with his fiction of the bow'rs, and dances of it.

What may seem to confirm Dacier's opinion of the transportation of Cholchis into Italy, is the immediate mention the Poet makes of Jason, and Æætes King of Cholchis: Besides the Antients believed Phasis, a river of Cholchis, to be the bounds of the habitable oriental world: and Ææa being the capital of it, lying upon the Phasis, it might very rationally be mistaken for the place where the Sun rose; thus Mimnermus writes,

That is, “the city of Æëtes where the rays of the Sun appear in a bed of gold, above the margin of the Ocean, where the divine Jason arriv'd:” This is an evidence that the Poet was well acquainted with Antiquity, and that (as Strabo judges) his astonishing fictions have truth for their foundation.

The Critics have greatly labour'd to explain what was the foundation of this fiction of the Sirens. We are told by some, that the Sirens were Queens of certain small Islands, named Sirenusæ, that lie near Capreæ in Italy, and chiefly inhabited the promontory of Minerva, upon the top of which that Goddess had a temple, as some affirm, built by Ulysses, according to this verse of Seneca, Epist. 77.

Here, there was a renown'd Academy in the reign of the Sirens, famous for Eloquence and the liberal Sciences, which gave occasion for the invention of this fable of the sweetness of the voice, and attracting songs of the Sirens. But why then are they fabled to be destroyers, and painted in such dreadful colours? We are told that at last the Students abus'd their knowledge, to the colouring of wrong, the corruption of manners, and subversion of government; that is, in the language of Poetry, they were feign'd to be transform'd into monsters, and with their music to have entic'd passengers to their ruin, who there consum'd their patrimonies, and poison'd their virtues with riot and effeminacy. The place is now call'd Massa. In the days of Homer the Sirens were fabled to be two only in number, as appears from his speaking of them in the dual, as οπα Σειρηνοιιν, νησον Σειρηνοιιν; their names (adds Eustathius) were Thelxiepæa, and Aglaopheme. Other writers, in particular Lycophron, mention three Sirens, Ligæa, Parthenope, and Leucosia. Some are of opinion (continues the same Author) that they were ψαλτριας και εταιριδας; that is, “singing women and harlots,” who by the sweetness of their voices drew the unwary to ruin their health and fortune. Others tell us of a certain Bay contracted within winding streights and broken cliffs, which by the singing of the winds, and beating of the waters, returns a delightful harmony; that allures the passenger to approach, who is immediately thrown against the rocks, and swallow'd up by the violent eddies.

But others understand the whole passage allegorically, or as a fable containing an excellent moral, to shew that if we suffer our selves to be too much allur'd by the pleasures of an idle life, the end will be destruction: thus Horace moralizes it;

But the fable may be apply'd to all pleasures in general, which if too eagerly pursu'd betray the uncautious into ruin; while wise men, like Ulysses, making use of their reason stop their ears against their insinuations.

There is a great similitude between this passage and the words of Solomon in the Proverbs, where there is a most beautiful description of an harlot, in the eighth and ninth chapters.

I beheld among the simple ones, I discerned among the youths, a young man void of understanding; and behold there met him a woman with the attire of an harlot, and subtil of heart, &c. With her much fair speech she caused him to yield, she forced him with the flattering of her lips: he goeth after her straightway, as an Ox goeth to the slaughter, but he knoweth not that the dead are there, and her guests are in the depths of Hell.

This may serve for a comment upon Homer, and it is an instance, that without any violence the nature of Harlots may be conceal'd under the fable of the Sirens.

There is undoubtedly a great amplification in the description of Scylla and Charybdis; it may not therefore be unnecessary to lay before the Reader, what is truth and what fiction.

Thucydides, lib. 4. thus describes it. “This streight is the sea that flows between Rhegium and Messenè, where at the narrowest distance, Sicily is divided from the Continent; and this is that part of the sea which Ulysses is said to have pass'd, and 'tis call'd Charybdis: This sea, by reason of the streights, and the concourse of the Tyrrhene and Sicilian seas breaking violently into it, and there raising great commotions, is with good reason called χαλεπη, or destructive.” Charybdis stands on the coast of Sicily; Scylla on the coast of Italy.

Mr: Sandys examin'd these rocks and seas with a particular view to the descriptions of the Poets: Speaking of Charybdis, he writes, When the winds begin to ruffle, especially from the south, it forthwith runs round with violent eddies, so that many vessels miscarry by it. The stream thro' the streight runs toward the Ionian, and part of it sets into the haven, which turning about, and meeting with other streams makes so violent an encounter that ships are glad to prevent the danger by coming to an anchor. Scylla, adds he, is seated in the midst of a bay, upon the neck of a narrow mountain, which thrusts it self into the sea, having at the uppermost end a steep high rock, so celebrated by the Poets, and hyperbolically described by Homer as unaccessible. The fables are indeed well fitted to the place, there being divers little sharp rocks at the foot of the greater: These are the dogs that are said to bark there, the waters by their repercussion from them make a noise like the barking of dogs; and the reason why Scylla is said to devour the fishes, as Homer expresses it.

The reason of this is, because these rocks are frequented by Lamprons, and greater fishes, that devour the bodies of the drown'd. But Scylla is now without danger, the current not setting upon it; and I much wonder at the proverb,

when they stand twelve miles distant: I rather conjecture, adds he, that there has been more than one Charybdis, occasion'd by the recoiling streams: As one there is between the south end of this bay of Scylla, and the opposite point of Sicily; there the waves justling make a violent eddy, which when the winds are rough, more than threaten destruction to ships, as I have heard from the Scyllians, when seeking perhaps to avoid the then more impetuous turning, they have been driven by weather upon the not far distant Scylla.

Strabo, (as Eustathius remarks) speaking of the Leontines, says, that they were an unhospitable people, Cyclopeans and Læstrigons: and adds, that Scylla and Charybdis were inhabited by robbers and murderers. From the terrible situation of those rocks, and the murders and depredation of the robbers these fictions might arise; they might murder six of the companions of Ulysses, and throw them into the sea from Scylla, which may be expressed in their being said to be swallow'd up by that monster.

Bochart judges the names of Scylla and Charybdis are of Phæacian extract, the one derived from Sool, which signifies loss and ruin, the other from Chorobdam, which implies the abyss of destruction.

It is highly probable that these rocks were more dangerous formerly than at these times, the violence of the waters may not only have enlarg'd their channel by time, but by throwing up banks and sands, have diverted their course from bearing upon these rocks with the same violence as antiently; add to this, that men by art may have contributed to render these seas more safe, being places of great resort and navigation. Besides, the unskilfulness of the Antients in sea affairs, and the smallness and form of their vessels, might render those seas very dangerous to them, which are safe to modern navigators.

It will reconcile the Reader in some measure to the boldness of these fictions, if he considers that Homer, to render his Poetry more marvellous, joins what has been related of the Symplegades, to the description of Scylla and Charybdis: such a fiction of the justling of these rocks could not be shocking to the ears of the Antients, who had before heard of the same property in the Symplegades. The whole fable is perhaps grounded upon appearance: Navigators looking upon these rocks at a distance, might in different views, according to the position of the ship, sometimes see them in a direct line, and then they would appear to join, and after they had pass'd a little further they might look upon them obliquely, and then they would be discovered to be at some distance; and this might give occasion to the fable of their meeting and recoiling alternately. Strabo agrees that Homer borrow'd his description of Scylla and Charybdis from the Symplegades; Homer (says he) describes these, like the Cyanean rocks; he continually lays the foundation of his fables upon some well known History: Thus he feigns these rocks to be full of dangers and horrors, according to the relations of the Cyanean, which from their justling are called Symplegades,

What might give Homer this notion, might be what is related of the Symplegades. Phineus being ask'd by Jason if he could pass those rocks with safety, he desires to know how swift the vessel was; Jason answers, as swift as a dove; Then, said Phineus, send a dove between the rocks, and if she escapes, you may pass in safety: Jason complies, and the pigeon in her passage lost only her tail; that Heroe immediately sets sail, and escapes with the loss only of his rudder: This story being reported of the Symplegades, might give Homer the hint of applying the crushing of the doves to Scylla and Charybdis. You may find in Eustathius several farfetch notions upon this passage, but I shall pass them over in silence. Longinus blames it, and I have ventur'd in the translation to omit that particular which occasion'd his censure.

A Poet should endeavour to raise his images and expressions as far as possible above meanness and vulgarity: In this respect no Poet was ever more happy than Homer: This place is an instance of it; it means no more than that while Jason made his voyage he had favourable winds and serene air. As Juno is frequently used in Homer to denote the air, he ascribes the prosperous wind to that Goddess, who presides over the air: Thus in Poetry, Juno

Homer means by Hell, the regions of Death, and uses it to teach us that there is no passing by this rock without destruction, or in Homer's words it is a sure passage into the kingdom of death. Eustathius.

The words in the original are, σκυλακος νεογιλης which in the proper and immediate sense do not confine it to the whelps of a Lion, but to whelps in general, and perhaps chiefly of the canine kind; νεογιλον Eustathius interprets νεωστι γινομενον, or newly whelp'd, and in the latter sense the passage is understood by that Author; for he writes, φωνη σκυλακος ολιγη, Σκυλλη δε μεγα κακον; that is, “the voice of a whelp is low, but Scylla is describ'd as an huge monster;” and the Poet uses it as we do this expression; The voice of a wicked man is soft, but his deeds are mischievous and abominable. I have adventur'd to translate the words in the other sense, after most interpreters, for Homer expresses the voice of Scylla by Δεινον λελακυια, or uttering a dreadful noise: Now what he calls her voice, is nothing but the roaring of the waves in storms when they beat against that rock; and this being very loud, is better represented by the roaring of a Lion, than the complaining of a young whelp. Chapman follows Eustathius.

Which is really burlesque enough. Dacier renders the words by rugissement d'un jeune Lion, or the roarings of a young Lion.

Polybius (as Strabo remarks) contends, that Homer in all his fictions alludes to the customs of Antiquity: For instance, Scylla was a famous fishery for taking such fishes as Homer mentions: This was the manner of taking the Sea-dog; several small boats went out only with two men in it, the one rowed, the other stood with his instrument ready to strike the fish; all the boats had one speculator in common, to give notice when the fish approach'd, which usually swum with more than half of the body above water: Ulysses is this speculator, who stands arm'd with his spear; and it is probable, adds Polybius, that Homer thought Ulysses really visited Scylla, since he ascribes to Scylla that manner of fishing which is really practis'd by the Scyllians.

These particularities, which seem of no consequence, have a very good effect in Poetry, as they give the relation an air of truth and probability. For what can induce a Poet to mention such a tree, if the tree were not there in reality? Neither is this fig-tree described in vain, it is the means of preserving the life of Ulysses in the sequel of the story. The Poet describes the fig-tree loaded with leaves; even this circumstance is of use, for the branches would then bend downward to the sea by their weight, and be reach'd by Ulysses more easily. It shews likewise, that this shipwreck was not in winter, for then the branches are naked.

Dacier gathers from hence, that the season was Autumn, meaning the time when Ulysses arrived among the Phæacians; but this is a mistake, for he was cast upon the Ogygian coast by this storm, and there remain'd with Calypso many years. The branch with which Ulysses girds his loins in the sixth book is describ'd with leaves, and that is indeed a full proof that he was thrown upon the Phæacian shores before the season in which trees shed their leaves, and probably in the Autumn.

Strabo quotes this passage to prove, that Homer understood the flux and reflux of the Ocean. “An instance, says he, of the care that Poet took to inform himself in all things is what he writes concerning the tides, for he calls the reflux αψορρον or the revolution of the waters: He tells us, that Scylla (it should be Charybdis) thrice swallows, and thrice refunds the waves; this must be understood of regular tides:” There are indeed but two tides in a day, but this is the error of the Librarians, who put τρις for δις. Eustathius solves the expression of the three tides differently, it ought to be understood of the νυχθημερος, or the space of the night and day, and then there will be a regular flux and reflux thrice in that time, or every eight hours periodically,

This short Question excellently declares the undaunted spirit of this Heroe; Circe lays before him the most affrighting danger; Ulysses immediately offers to encounter it, to revenge the death of his friends, and the Poet artfully at the same time makes that Goddess launch out into the praise of his Intrepidity; a judicious method to exalt the character of his Heroe. Dacier.

It is not evident who this Cratæis is whom the Poet makes the mother of Scylla: Eustathius informs us that it is Hecate, a Goddess very properly recommended by Circe; she, like Circe, being the president over sorceries and enchantments. But why should she be said to be the mother of Scylla? Dacier imagines that Homer speaks ænigmatically, and intends to teach us that these monsters are merely the creation or offspring of magic, or Poetry.

This fiction concerning the immortal herds of Apollo, is bold, but founded upon truth and reality. Nothing is more certain than that in antient times whole herds of cattle were consecrated to the Gods, and were therefore sacred and inviolable: These being always of a fix'd number, neither more nor less than at the first consecration, the Poet feigns that they never bred or increas'd: and being constantly supply'd upon any vacancy, they were fabled to be immortal, or never to decay; (for the same cause one of the most famous legions of Antiquity was call'd immortal.) Eustathius informs us, that they were labouring oxen employ'd in tillage, and it was esteem'd a particular prophanation to destroy a labouring ox, it was criminal to eat of it, nay it was forbid to be offer'd even in sacrifices to the Gods; and a crime punishable with death by the laws of Solon: so that the moral intended by Homer in this fable of the violation of the herds of Apollo, is, that in our utmost necessity we ought not to offend the Gods. As to the flocks of sheep, Herodotus informs us, that in Apollonia along the Ionian gulph, flocks of sheep were consecrated to that Deity, and were therefore inviolable.

It is very judicious in the Poet not to amuse us with repeating the compliments that pass'd between these two lovers at parting: The commerce Ulysses held with Circe was so far from contributing to the end of the Odyssey, that it was one of the greatest impediments to it; and therefore Homer dismisses that subject in a few words, and passes on directly to the great sufferings and adventures of his Heroe, which are essential to the Poem. But it may not be unnecessary to observe how artfully the Poet connects this Episode of Circe with the thread of it; he makes even the Goddess, who detains him from his country, contribute to his return thither, by the advice she gives him how to escape the dangers of the Ocean, and how to behave in the difficult emergencies of his voyages: 'Tis true, she detains him out of fondness, but yet this very fondness is of use to him, since it makes a Goddess his instructor, and as it were a guide to his country.

There are several things remarkable in this short song of the Sirens: One of the first words they speak is the name of Ulysses, this shews that they had a kind of Omniscience; and it could not fail of raising the curiosity of a wise man, to be acquainted with persons of such extensive knowledge: The song is well adapted to the character of Ulysses; it is not pleasure or dalliance with which they tempt that Heroe, but a promise of Wisdom, and a recital of the war of Troy and his own glory. Cicero was so pleased with these verses, that he translated them, lib. 5. de finibus bon. & mal.

Homer saw (says Tully) that his fable could not be approved, if he made his Heroe to be taken with a mere song: The Sirens therefore promise Knowledge, the desire of which might probably prove stronger than the love of his country: To desire to know all things, whether useful or trifles, is a faulty curiosity; but to be led from the contemplation of things great and noble, to a thirst of knowledge, is an instance of a greatness of soul.

What is to be understood by the smoke of the billows? Does the Poet mean a real fire arising from the rocks? Most of the Critics have judg'd that the rock vomited out flames; for Homer mentions in the beginning of this book,

I have taken the liberty to translate both these passages in a different sense; by the smoke I understand the mists that arise from the commotion and dashing of the waters, and by the storms of fire, (as Homer expresses it) the reflections the water casts in such agitations that resemble flames; thus in storms literally

Scylla and Charybdis are in a continual storm, and may therefore be said to emit flames, I have soft'ned the expression in the translation by inserting the word seem.

Ulysses continues upon one of these rocks several hours; that is, from morning till noon, as appears from the conclusion of this book; for leaping from the float, he laid hold upon a fig-tree that grew upon Charybdis; but both the fig-tree and Ulysses must have been consumed, if the rock had really emitted flames.

Plutarch excellently explains this passage in his Dissertation, How a man may praise himself without blame or envy: “Ulysses (says that Author) speaks not out of vanity; he saw his companions terrify'd with the noise, tumult, and smoke of the gulphs of Scylla and Charybdis; he therefore to give them courage, reminds them of his wisdom and valour, which they found had frequently extricated them from other dangers: This is not vain-glory or boasting, but the dictate of Wisdom; to infuse courage into his friends, he engages his virtue, prowess and capacity for their safety, and shews what confidence they ought to repose in his conduct.” Virgil puts the words of Ulysses in the mouth of Æneas.

It must be allow'd, that Virgil has improv'd what he borrows; it tends more to confirm the courage of his friends than what Ulysses speaks: Macrobius is of this opinion. Saturn. lib. 5. cap. II. Ulysses lays before his companions only one instance of his conduct in escaping dangers, Æneas mentions a second: there is something more strong in

than in και του των μνησεσθαι οιω; not only as it gives them hope to escape, but as it is an assurance that this very danger shall be a pleasure, and add to their future happiness: it is not only an argument of resolution but consolation. Scaliger agrees with Macrobins, Ex ipsis periculis proponit voluptatem: nihil enim jucundius eâ memoriâ quæ periculorum evasionem, victoriamque recordatione repræsentat.

This seemingly small circumstance is not without a good effect: It shews that Ulysses, even by the injunctions of a Goddess, cannot lay aside the Heroe. It is not out of a particular care of his own safety that he arms himself, for he takes his stand in the most open and dangerous part of the vessel. It is an evidence likewise that the death of his companions is not owing to a want of his protection; for it is plain that, as Horace expresses it,

By this conduct we see likewise, that all the parts of the Odyssey are consistent, and that the same care of his companions, which Homer ascribes to Ulysses in the first lines of it, is visible thro' the whole Poem.

I doubt not every Reader who is acquainted with Homer, has taken notice in this book, how he all along adapts his verses to the horrible subject he describes, and paints the roarings of the Ocean in words as sonorous as that element. Δεινον ανερροιβδησε----τρις αναροιβδει----αναβροειε----βομβησεν, &c. Subjicit rem oculis, & aurium nostrarum dominus est, says Scaliger. It is impossible to preserve the beauty of Homer, in a language so much inferior; but I have endeavour'd to imitate what I could not equal. I have clog'd the verse with the roughness and identity of a letter, which is the harshest our language affords; and clog'd it with Monosyllables, that the concourse of the rough letters might be more quick and close in the pronuntiation, and the most open and sounding vowel occur in every word.

These tender and calm similitudes have a peculiar beauty, when introduc'd to illustrate such images of terror as the Poet here describes: they set off each the other by an happy contrast, and become both more strong by opposition. Eustathius remarks, that there is always a peculiar sweetness in allusions that are borrow'd from calm life, as fishing, hunting, and rural affairs.

This Isle is evidently Sicily; for he has already inform'd us, that these herds were on Trinacria, (so antiently call'd from the three promontories of Lilybæum, Pelorus, and Pachynus.)

Homer has found out a way to turn reproach into praise. What Eurylothus speaks in his wrath against Ulysses, as a fault; is really his glory; it shews him to be indefatigable, patient in adversity, and obedient to the decrees of the Gods. And what still heightens panegyric is, that it is spoken by an enemy; who must therefore be free from all suspicion of flattery. Dacier.

This conduct may seem somewhat extraordinary; the companions of Ulysses appear to have forgot their lost friends, they entertain themselves with a due refreshment, and then find leisure to mourn; whereas a true sorrow would more probably have taken away all appetite. But the practice of Ulysses's friends is consonant to the customs of Antiquity: It was esteem'd a prophanation and a piece of Ingratitude to the Gods, to mix sorrow with their entertainments: The hours of repast were allotted to joy, and thanksgiving to heaven for the bounty it gave to man by sustenance. Besides, this practice bears a secret instruction, viz. that the principal care is owing to the living; and when that is over, the dead are not to be neglected. Æneas and his friends are drawn in the same attitude by Virgil:

It was necessary (remarks Eustathius) for the Poet to invent some pretext to remove Ulysses: If he had been present, his companions dar'd not to have disobey'd him openly; or if they had, it would have shew'd a want of authority, which would have been a disparagement to that Heroe. Now what pretext could be more rational than to suppose him withdrawn to offer up his devotions to the Gods? His affairs are brought to the utmost extremity, his companions murmur, and hunger oppresses. The Poet therefore, to bring about the crime of these offenders by probable methods, represents Ulysses retiring to supplicate the Gods; a conduct which they ought to have imitated: Besides there is a poetical justice observ'd in the whole relation, and by the piety of Ulysses, and the guilt of his companions, we acknowledge the equity when we see them perish, and Ulysses preserved from all his dangers.

Eurylochus puts on an air of piety to persuade his companions to commit sacrilege: Let us sacrifice, says he, to the Gods: as if obedience were not better than sacrifice. Homer understood the nature of man, which is studious to find excuses to justifie our crimes; and we often offend, merely thro' hopes of a pardon.

The word in the original is αγαλματα which does not signifie statues, but ornaments, αμαθηματα, hung up, or reposited in the temples; such as

or as it is express'd in the Iliad,

Hesychius interprets αγαλμα to be, παν εθ' τις αγαλλεται, ουκ ως συνηθεια ζοανον; that is, αγαλμα signifies every ornament with which a person is delighted or adorn'd; not a statue, as it is understood by the generality.

This is a very bold fiction, for how can the Sun be imagin'd to illuminate the regions of the dead; that is, to shine within the earth, for there the realm of Pluto is plac'd by Homer? I am persuaded the meaning is only that he would no more rise, but leave the earth and heavens in perpetual darkness. Erebus is placed in the west, where the Sun sets, and consequently when he disappears he may be said to be sunk into the realms of darkness or Erebus.

Perhaps the whole fiction might be founded really upon the observation of some unusual darkness of the Sun, either from a total eclipse or other causes, which happen'd at the time when some remarkable crime was committed, and gave the Poets liberty to feign that the Sun withdrew his light from the view of it. Thus at the death of Cæsar the globe of the Sun was obscur'd, or gave but a weak light, (says Plutarch) a whole year; and Plin. lib. 2. 80. fiunt prodigiosi & longiores solis defectus, totius pænè anni pallore continuo. This Virgil directly applies to the horror the Sun conceiv'd at the death of Cæsar, Georg. 1.

And if Virgil might say that the Sun withdrew his beams at the impiety of the Romans, why may not Homer say the same, concerning the crime of the companions of Ulysses? Daceir imagines that Homer had heard of the Sun's standing still at the voice of Joshua; for if (says she) he could stand still in the upper region, why might he not do the same in the contrary Hemisphere, that is, in the language of Homer, bear his lamps to shades below? But this seems to be spoken without any foundation, there being no occasion to have recourse to that miraculous event for a solution.

These lines are inserted (as Eustathius observes) solely to reconcile the story to credibility: For how was it possible for Ulysses to arrive at the knowledge of what was done in heaven, without a discovery made by some of the Deities? The persons by whom these discourses of the Gods are discover'd are happily chosen; Mercury was the messenger of heaven, and it is this God who descends to Calypso in the fifth of the Odyssey: so that there was a correspondence between Calypso and Mercury; and therefore he is a proper person to make this discovery to that Goddess, and she, out of affection, to Ulysses.

This passage (says Eustathius) gave an occasion of laughter, to men dispos'd to be merry, Λαβας γελοιασμου δεδωκε τοις παιζειν εθελουσι. He adds, that the terrors of a guilty conscience drove the companions of Ulysses into these imaginations: Guilt is able to create a phantom in a moment, so that these appearances were nothing but the illusions of a disturb'd imagination. He cites a passage from the Calliope of Herodotus to vindicate Homer: Artayctes a Persian General had plunder'd a temple in which was the tomb of Protesilaus, where great riches were deposited; afterwards he was besieg'd in Sestus, and taken prisoner: One day, one of his guards was boiling salted fishes (ταριχοι) and they leap'd, and moved as if they had been alive, and newly taken out of the water: Divers persons crouded about the place, and wonder'd at the miracle; when Artayctes said, Friends, you are not at all concerned in this miracle: Protesilaus, tho' dead, admonishes me by this sign, that the Gods have given him power to revenge the injury I offer'd to his monument in Eleus . But this is justifying one fable by another; and this looks also like the effects of a guilty conscience.

This is not among the passages condemn'd by Longinus; and indeed it was no way blameable, if we consider the times when it was spoken, and the persons to whom it is related: I mean Phæacians, who were delighted with such wonders. What was said judiciously by a great Writer, may very properly be apply'd to these people, Credo, quia impossibile est. But we need not have recourse to their credulity for a vindication of this story: Homer has given us an account of all the abstruse arts, such as Necromancy, Witchcraft, and natural portents; here he relates a prodigy, the belief of which universally prevail'd among the Antients: Let any one read Livy, and he will find innumerable instances of prodigies, equally incredible as this, which were related by the wise, and believed at least by the vulgar. Thus we read of speaking Oxen, the sweating of the statues of the Gods, in the best Roman Histories. If such wonders might have a place in History, they may certainly be allow'd room in Poetry, whose province is fable: it signifies nothing whether a story be true or false, provided it be establish'd by common belief, or common fame: this is a sufficient foundation for Poetry.

The days of wonder are now over, and therefore a Poet would be blameable to make use of such impossibilities in these ages: They are now almost universally disbelieved, and therefore would not be approv'd as bold fictions, but exploded as wild extravagancies.

Longinus, while he condemns the Odyssey as wanting fire, thro' the decay of Homer's fancy; excepts the descriptions of the Tempests, which he allows to be painted with the boldest and strongest strokes of Poetry. Let any person read that passage in the 5th Book, and he will be convinc'd of the fire of Homer's fancy.

The two last lines are here repeated; and Scaliger, a second Zoilus of Homer, allows them to be omnia pulchra, plena, gravia. p. 469. There is a storm in the very words, and the horrors of it are viable in the verses.

Virgil was master of too much judgment, not to embellish his Æneid with this description.

These are almost literally translated from the above-mentioned verses of Homer, and these following.

Scaliger calls the Verses of Homer, divina oratio, but prefers those of Virgil. Totumque a sedibus imis, is stronger than εταραξε ποντον, &c. and Αιθρηγενετης is an ill-chosen Epithet, to be used to describe a storm, for it carries an image of serenity. But that is to be understood of the general nature of that wind: As a river may be said to be gentle, tho' capable to be swell'd into a flood. But I leave the preference to the Reader's judgment.

There is a great similitude between this passage and some verses in Virgil, in which, as Scaliger judges and perhaps with reason, the preference is to be given to the Roman Poet. Tenuissimâ, says that Critic, & levissimâ utitur narratione Homerus.

And again

There is certainly better versification in these lines of Virgil, than in those of Homer: There is better colouring, and they set the thing they describe full before our Eyes. Virgil has omitted the two short similitudes of the Diver, and Sea-mews, despairing perhaps to make them shine in the Roman language. There is a third simile in Homer of the Bat or Bird of night Νοκτερις, which is introduc'd to represent Ulysses clinging round the Fig-tree. 'Tis true the whole three are taken from low subjects, but they very well paint the thing they were intended to illustrate.

This passage has been egregiously misunderstood by Mons. Perrault. Ulysses being carried (says that author) on his mast toward Charybdis, leaps from it, and clings like a Bat round a Fig-tree, waiting till the return of the mast from the gulphs of it; and adds, that when he saw it, he was as glad as a Judge when he rises from his seat to go to dinner, after having try'd several causes. But Boileau fully vindicates Homer in his reflexions on Longinus: Before the use of dials or clocks the Antients distinguish'd the day by some remarkable offices, or stated employments: as from the dining of the labourer,

Iliad XI. ver. 119. See the Annotation; so here from the rising of the Judges, and both denote the Mid-day, or Noontide hour. Thus it is used by Hippocrates, who speaking of a person wounded with a Javelin in the Liver, says he dy'd πριν αγορην λυθηναι, a little before the breaking up of the Assembly, or before the Judge rises from his tribunal; or as some understand it, a little before the finishing of the market: There is a parallel expression in Xenophon, και ηδη τε αμφι αγοραν πληθουσαν. This rising of the Judge Perrault mistakes for a comparison, to express the joy which Ulysses conceiv'd at the sight of the return of his mast; than which nothing can be more distant from Homer's sentiment.

From this description we may precisely learn the time that passed while Ulysses clung round the Fig-tree.

So that at Morning he leap'd from his float, and about Noon recover'd it: Now Eustathius affirms, that in the space of twenty four hours there are three Tides, and dividing that time into three parts, Ulysses will appear to have remain'd upon the Rock eight hours. The exact time when the Judge rose from his tribunal is not apparent: Boileau supposes it to be about three a Clock in the Afternoon, Dacier about two; but the time was certain among the Antients, and is only dubious to us, as we are ignorant of the hour of the day when the Judge enter'd his Tribunal, and when he left it.

This account is very extraordinary. Ulysses continued upon the Mast ten days, and consequently ten days without any nourishment. Longinus brings this passage as an instance of the decay of Homer's Genius, and his launching out into extravagant Fables. I wonder Eustathius should be silent about this Objection; but Dacier endeavours to vindicate Homer, from a similar place in the Acts of the Apostles, Cap. 27. ver. 33. where Saint Paul says to the Sailors, This is the fourteenth day that ye have tarried, and continued fasting, having taken nothing. Now if the Sailors in the Acts could fast fourteen days, why might not Ulysses fast ten? But this place by no means comes up to the point. The words are τεσσαρεσκαιδεκατην σημερον ημεραν προσδοκουντες, that is, expecting the fourteenth day, (which is to-day) you continue without eating; so the meaning is, they had taken no food all that day; the danger was so great that they had no leisure to think upon hunger. This is the literal construction of the Words, and implies that out of expectation of the fourteenth Day, (which they look'd upon as a critical time when their danger would be at the highest) they had forgot to take their usual repast; and not, that they had fasted fourteen Days. But if any Person thinks that the fasting is to be apply'd to the whole fourteen days, it must be in that latitude wherein Interpreters expound Hesiod.

which signifies not that they eat no Meat at all, but that they had not leisure thro' their danger to observe the usual and stated hours of repast: They eat in their Arms, with their hands foul'd with Blood. But I take the former sense to be the better. Besides, it is impossible to make this place of any service to Homer; for if these Men continued so long fasting, it was a miraculous fast; and how can this be apply'd to Ulysses, who is not imagined to owe his power of fasting to any supernatural assistance? But it is almost a demonstration that the sailors in the Acts eat during the tempest: Why should they abstain? It was not for want of food; for at St. Paul's injunction they take some sustenance: Now it is absurd to imagine a miracle to be performed, when common and easy means were at hand to make such a supernatural act unnecessary. If they had been without food, then indeed a miracle might have been suppos'd to supply it. If they had died thro' fasting, when meat was at hand, they would have been guilty of starving themselves. If therefore we suppose a miracle, we must suppose it to be wrought, to prevent men from being guilty of wilful self-murder, which is an absurdity.

Besides, the word ασιτος is used to denote a person who takes no food for the space of one day only, as μονοσιτος signifies a person who eats but one meal in the compass of one day; this therefore is an evidence, that the sailors in the Acts had not been without sustenance fourteen days.

In short, I am not in the number of those who think Homer has no faults; and unless we imagine Ulysses to have fasted ten days by the assistance of the Gods, this passage must be allowed to be extravagant: 'Tis true, Homer says, the Gods guided him to the Ogygian shores; but he says not a word to soften the incredibility of the fasting of Ulysses, thro' any assistance of the Gods. I am therefore inclin'd to subscribe to the opinion of Longinus, that this relation is faulty; but say with Horace,