University of Virginia Library

Neither this book, nor indeed some of the following, are to be reckon'd among the most shining parts of the Odyssey. They are narrative, and generally low; yet natural, and just enough, considering Homer was resolv'd to describe and follow low life so very minutely. This great Poet here resembles an evening Sun; he has not the same heat or brightness; there are several little clouds about him, tho' in some places gilded and adorn'd: however, to make us amends, he breaks out again before the conclusion of his course, and sets at last in glory.

There is no doubt, but all the parts of a Poem are not capable of equal lustre; nay, they ought not to dazzle us alike, or tire us by a perpetual strain upon the imagination. But in these cooler relations a Translator has a hard task: He is expected to shine, where the Author is not bright: and the unreasonable Critic demands a Copy more noble than the Original. 'Tis true, these are the passages of which he ought to take particular care, and to set them off to the best advantage: But however he may polish a vulgar stone, it will still retain its inherent degree of cloudiness; and the man is ignorant indeed, who thinks one can make it a Diamond.

The story now turns to Telemachus, and the Poet briefly describes his voyage to his country: There is a necessity to be concise, for the Heroe of an Epic Poem is never to be out of sight, after his introduction. The little time that Homer employs in the return of Telemachus is not spent unusefully by Ulysses; during this interval, he learns the state of his publick and domestick affairs from Eumæus, and prepares the way for the destruction of the Suitors, the chief design of the whole Odyssey. There is another reason why the Poet ought not to dwell at large upon the story of Telemachus; he bears but an incidental relation to the Odyssey, and consequently Homer was necessitated to pass over his actions with brevity, that he might describe the Heroe of his Poem at full length. It has been objected, that no mention has been made of any action at all of Telemachus during his whole stay with Menelaus, and that he lies there idly, without making his voyage contribute any thing to the restitution of Ulysses; but from the former observation it is evident, that this silence in the Poet proceeds from judgment; nothing is to be inserted in an Epic Poem but what has some affinity with the main design of it: but what affinity could the actions of Telemachus in the Spartan court have with those of Ulysses? This would have been to make two Heroes in one Poem, and would have broken the unity of the action; whereas by the contrary conduct Homer unites the two stories, and makes the voyage of Telemachus subservient to the chief action; namely, the restitution of Ulysses. Telemachus undertakes a voyage to make enquiry after Ulysses; this the Poet fully describes, because it has an immediate relation to Ulysses; but passes over all other adventures during the absence of Telemachus, because they have no relation to the design.

I know it has been objected, that the whole story of Telemachus is foreign to the Odyssey, and that the four first books have not a sufficient connection with the rest of the Poem, and therefore that there is a double action: But this objection will cease, if it be made appear, that this voyage contributes to the restoration of Ulysses; for whatever incident has such an effect is united to the subject, and essential to it. Now that this voyage has such an effect is very evident; the suitors were ready to seize the throne of Ulysses, and compel his wife to marry; but by this voyage Telemachus breaks their whole designs. Instead of usurping the throne, they are obliged to defend themselves: they defer their purpose, and waste much time in endeavouring to intercept him in his return. By this method leisure is gain'd from the violence and addresses of the suitors, till Ulysses returns and brings about his own re-establishment. This voyage therefore is the secret source from which all the happiness of Ulysses flows: for had not Telemachus sailed to Pyle, Penelope must have been compell'd to marry, and the throne of Ulysses usurped. I have been more large upon this objection, because many foreign Critics lay great weight upon it. See Note XIX on the first book.

There has lately been a great dispute amongst the French, concerning the length of the stay of Telemachus from his country. The debate is not very material, nor is it very difficult to settle that point. Telemachus sail'd from Ithaca in the evening of the second day, and returns to it on the thirty eighth in the morning, so that he is absent thirty five days compleatly.

If this had been related by an Historian, he would have only said that Telemachus judged it necessary for his affairs to sail back to his own country; but a Poet steps out of the common beaten road, ascribes the wisdom of that Heroe to the Goddess of it, and introduces her in person, to give a dignity to his Poetry.

The Reader may consult in general the extracts from Bossu, (plac'd before the Odyssey) concerning machines, or the interposition of Deities in Epic Poetry. I will here beg leave to set them in a different and more particular light.

It has been imagin'd that a Deity is never to be introduc'd but when all human means are ineffectual: If this were true, Minerva would be in vain employ'd in bringing Telemachus back, when a common Messenger might have answer'd that purpose as well as the Goddess. I doubt not but the verse of Horace has led many into this error;

This rule is to be apply'd only to the Theater, of which Horace there speaks, and means no more, than when the knot of the Play is to be unty'd, and no other way is left for making the discovery, then let a God descend and clear the intricacy to the Auditors. But, as Mr. Dryden observes, it has no relation to Epic Poetry.

It is true, that a Deity is never to be introduc'd upon little and unworthy occasions; the very design of Machines is to add weight and dignity to the story, and consequently an unworthy employment defeats the very intent of them, and debases the Deities by making them act in offices unworthy of the characters of divine personages: But then it is as true, that a Poet is at liberty to use them for ornament as well as necessity. For instance, both Virgil and Homer in their descriptions of storms introduce Deities, Neptune and Æolus, only to fill our minds with grandeur and terror; for in reality a storm might have happen'd without a miracle, and Æneas and Ulysses both have been driven upon unknown shores, by a common storm as well as by immediate interposition of Neptune or Æolus. But machines have a very happy effect; the Poet seems to converse with Gods, gives signs of a divine transport, and distinguishes his Poem in all parts from an History.

Minerva here finds Telemachus in bed: It is necessary to remember that Ulysses landed in Ithaca in the morning of the thirty fifth day; and when Minerva left him, she went to the Spartan court to Telemachus; this vision therefore appears to that Heroe in the night following the thirty fifth day. On the thirty sixth he departs from Menelaus, and lodges that night with Diocles; on the thirty seventh he embarks towards the evening, sails all night, and lands on the thirty eighth in the morning in his own country. From this observation it is likewise evident, that Ulysses passes two days in discourse with Eumæus, tho' the Poet only distinguishes the time by the voyage of Telemachus; for the preceding book concludes with the thirty fifth day, and Telemachus spends the thirty sixth and thirty seventh and the following night in his return, and meets Ulysses in the morning of the thirty eighth day. This remark is necessary to avoid confusion, and to make the two stories of Ulysses and Telemachus coincide, in this and the next book of the Odyssey.

Ovid had these lines in his view in his Epistle of Penelope to Ulysses.

But why should Minerva make use of these arguments, to persuade Telemachus to return immediately; and give him no information concerning the safety of Ulysses, who was now actually landed in his own country? The Poet reserves this discovery to be made in the future part of the story: If Telemachus had known of his father's being already return'd, there could have been no room for the beautiful interview between the father and the son; for the doubts and fears, the surprize and filial tenderness, on the part of Telemachus; and for the paternal fondness, the yearnings of nature, and the transports of joy, on the part of Ulysses. Aristotle particularly commends this conduct of Homer with respect to Ulysses. These disguises and concealments, (says that Author) perplex the fable with agreeable plots and intricacies, surprize us with a variety of incidents, and give room for the relation of many adventures; while Ulysses still appears in assum'd characters, and upon every occasion recites a new History. At the same time the Poet excellently sustains his character, which is every where distinguish'd by a wise and ready dissimulation.

This is not spoken in derogation of Penelope, nor apply'd to her in particular; it is laid down as an universal maxim, and utter'd by the Goddess of wisdom: But (says Madam Dacier) I wish the Poet had told us, if the husbands in his days had better memories toward their departed wives? But what advantage would this be to the fair sex, if we allow that an husband may possibly forget a former wife? I chuse rather to congratulate the modern Ladies, against whom there is not the least objection of this nature. Is it not evident, that all our widows are utterly disconsolate, appear many months in deep mourning? and whenever they are prevail'd upon to a second marriage, do they not chuse out the strongest, best built, and most vigorous youth of the nation? For what other reason, but that such constitutions may be a security against their ever feeling the like calamity again? What I have here said shews that the world is well chang'd since the times of Homer; and however the race of man is dwindled and decayed since those ages, yet it is a demonstration that the modern Ladies are not to blame for it.

Homer has here laid together admirable precepts for social life; the passage was much admir'd; Herodotus borrow'd it, as we are inform'd by Eustathius.

But perhaps Eustathius quoted by memory, or thro' inadvertency wrote down Herodotus for Theocritus, in whom these lines are to be found:

It is in the original, He commanded Helen and her maids to do it. The moderns have blam'd Menelaus for want of delicacy, in commanding his Queen to perform such houshold offices. I read such passages with pleasure, because they are exact pictures of antient life: We may as well condemn the first inhabitants of the world for want of politeness, in living in tents and bowers, and not in palaces. This command of Menelaus agrees with those manners, and with the patriarchal life. Gen. xviii. 6. Abraham hasten'd into his tent, and said unto Sarah his wife, make ready quickly three measures of fine meal: Knead it, and makes cakes upon the hearth.

I doubt not but the continual descriptions of entertaiments have likewise given offence to many; but we may be in some degree reconcil'd to them, if we consider they are not only instances of the hospitality of the antients, but of their piety and religion: Every meal was a religious act, a sacrifice, or a feast of thanksgiving: libations of wine, and offerings of part of the flesh were constantly made at every entertainment. This gives a dignity to the description, and when we read it, we are not to consider it as an act merely of eating or drinking, but as an office of worship to the Gods.

This is a note of the Critics; but perhaps the same thing might as well be said of our modern entertainments, wherever the good practice of saying Grace before and after meat is not yet laid aside.

If this passage were translated literally, it would stand thus, Helen chose a vesture of most beautiful embroidery, and of the largest extent, a vesture that lay beneath the rest. We are to understand by the last circumstance, that this vesture was the choicest of her wardrobe, it being reposited with the greatest care, or νειατος αλλων. The verses are taken from lib. 6. of the Iliad. This robe was the work of Helen's own hands; an instance that in those days a great Lady, or a great Beauty, might be a good work-woman: And she here seems to take particular care to obviate an opinion one might otherwise have, that she did not apply herself to these works till her best days were past. We are told in the Iliad,

It is not impossible but a false reading may have crept into the text in this verse. In the present edition it stands thus.

The sense will be less intricate, and the construction more easy, if instead of κιων, we insert κιχων, and read the line thus pointed.

Then the verse will have this import, “O may I, upon my return to Ithaca, finding Ulysses in his Palace, give him an account of your friendship!” Whereas in the common editions there is a tautology, and either κιων or νοστησας must be allowed to be a superfluity.

It is not clear why the Poet ascribes a greater quickness and penetration to Helen in the solution of this prodigy, than to Menelaus. Is it, as Eustathius asserts, from a superior acuteness of nature and presence of mind in the fair sex? Or is it, that Helen in this resembles some modern beauties, who (tho' their husbands be ask'd the question) will make the answer themselves? I would willingly believe that Helen might happen to stand in such a position, as to be able to make more minute observations upon the flight of the eagle, than Menelaus; and being more circumstantial in the observation, she might for that reason be more ready and circumstantial in the interpretation. But Homer himself tells us, that she receiv'd it from the Gods. This is a pious lesson, to teach us in general that all knowledge is the gift of God, and perhaps here particularly inserted to raise the character of Helen, and make us less surpriz'd to see her forgiven by Menelaus, when she is not only pardon'd, but favour'd thus with inspiration. And indeed it was necessary to reconcile us to this fatal Beauty; at whom the Reader is naturally enough offended: She is an actress in many of the scenes of the Odyssey, and consequently to be redeem'd from contempt: This is done by degrees; the Poet steals away the adultress from our view, to set before us the amiable penitent.

Ulysses is the eagle, the bird represents the suitors: the cries of the men and women when the eagle seiz'd his prey, denote the lamentations of the relations of the suitors, who are slain by Ulysses. The circumstance of the flight of the eagle close to the horses, is added to shew that the prodigy had a fix'd and certain reference to a person present; namely Telemachus: The eagle comes suddenly from a mountain; this means that Ulysses shall unexpectedly arrive from the country to the suitors destruction. The fowl is said to be fed by the family, this is a full designation of the suitors, who feed upon Ulysses, and prey upon his family. And as this bird is kill'd by the talons of the eagle, so the suitors fall by the spear of Ulysses. Eustathius.

This has been objected against, as contrary to the promise of Telemachus, who assur'd Menelaus that he would acquaint Nestor with his great friendship and hospitality; Is he therefore not guilty of falshood, by embarking immediately without fulfilling his promise? Eustathius answers, that the prodigy of the eagle occasions this alteration, and that the not fulfilling his promise is to be ascrib'd to accident and necessity. But the words of Telemachus sufficiently justify his veracity; they are of the plural number καταλεξομεν, I and Pisistratus will inform Nestor of your hospitality: This promise he leaves to be perform'd by Pisistratus, who returns directly to Nestor. Others blame Telemachus as unpolite, in leaving Nestor without any acknowledgment for his civilities. Dacier has recourse to the command of Minerva, and to the prodigy of the eagle, for his vindication: He is commanded by the Gods to return immediately, and therefore not blameable for complying with their injunctions. But perhaps it is a better reason to say, that the nature of the Poem requires such a conduct; the action of the Odyssey stands still till the return of Telemachus (whatever happens to him in Pyle being foreign to it) and therefore Homer shews his judgment, in precipitating the actions of Telemachus, rather than trifling away the time, while the story sleeps, only to shew a piece of complaisance and ceremony.

There is some obscurity in this genealogical History. Melampus was a prophet, he liv'd in Pylos, and was a person of great wealth; his uncle Neleus seiz'd his riches, and detain'd them a whole year, to oblige him to recover his herds detain'd by Iphyclus in Phylace; he fail'd in the attempt, and was kept in prison by Iphyclus, the son of Phylacus. Bias, the brother of Melampus, was in love with Pero the daughter of Neleus; Neleus, to engage Melampus more strongly in the enterprize, promises to give Pero in marriage to his brother Bias, upon the recovery of his herds from Iphyclus. At length Iphyclus releases Melampus from prison, upon his discovering to him how he might have an heir to succeed to his dominions, and rewards him with restoring the herds of Neleus: Then Neleus retracts his promise, and refuses to give his daughter Pero to Bias the brother of Melampus; upon this Neleus and Melampus quarrel, and engaging in a single combat, Neleus is vanquish'd, and Melampus retires to Argos. See lib. XI. v. 350, &c. and the annotations, Note 23.

The Poet means Eryphyle, who, being brib'd with a golden bracelet by Polynices, persuaded her husband Amphiaraus to go to the Theban war, where he lost his life. This is a remarkable passage: Tho' he was lov'd by Jupiter and Apollo, yet he reach'd not to old age. Is a short life the greatest instance of the love of the Gods? Plato quotes the verse to this purpose. “The life of man is so loaded with calamity, that it is an instance of the favour of Heaven to take the burthen from us with speed.” The same Author in Axiochus (if that dialogue be his) asserts, that the Gods, having a perfect insight into human affairs, take speedily to themselves those whom they love. Thus when Trophonius and Agamedes had built a temple to Apollo, they pray'd to receive a blessing the most beneficial to mankind: the God granted their prayers, and they were both found dead the next morning. Thus likewise the Priestess of Juno, when her two sons had yok'd themselves to her chariot, and drawn her for the greater expedition to the temple, pray'd to the Goddess to reward their filial piety; and they both dy'd that night. This agrees with the expression of Menander, He whom the Gods love dies young.

There is nothing more common than such accounts of men being carried away by Goddesses, in all the Greek Poets; and yet what offends more against credibility? The Poets invented these fables merely out of compliment to the dead. When any person happen'd to be drown'd in a river; if a man, some Water Nymph stole him; if a woman, she was seiz'd to be the wife of the River God. If any were lost at sea, Neptune or some of the Sea Gods or Goddesses had taken them to their beds. But to speak to the present purpose; if any person dy'd in the fields, and his body happen'd not to be found, if he was murther'd and buried, or devour'd by wild beasts, so that no account was heard of his death, he was immediately imagin'd to be taken from the earth by some Deity who was in love with his beauty. Thus Clitus being lost in his morning sports, like Orion while he was hunting, he was fabled to be carry'd to Heav'n by Aurora; being lost at the time of the morning, over which that Deity presides.

We have had a long genealogical digression to introduce Theoclymenus: I fear the whole passage will prove distasteful to an English palate, it not being capable of any ornaments of Poetry. I could wish Homer had omitted or shorten'd such Passages, tho' they might be useful in his age; for by such honourable insertions he made his court to the best families then in Greece. 'Tis true, the story is told concisely, and this occasions some obscurity; distance of time as well as place, makes us see all objects somewhat confusedly and indistinctly. In the days of Homer these stories were universally known, and consequently wanted no explication; the obscurity therefore is not to be charged upon Homer, but to Time, which has defac'd and worn away some parts of the impression, and made the images less discernible.

The use the Poet makes of the adventure of Theoclymenus, is to give encouragement to Telemachus; he assists him with his advice, and by his gift of prophecy explains to him a prodigy in the conclusion of this Book. By this method he connects it with the main action, in giving Telemachus assurances that his affairs hasten to a re-establishment. Besides these short relations are valuable, as they convey to posterity brief histories of antient facts and families that are extant no where else.

These questions may be thought somewhat extraordinary; for what apparent reason is there for this fugitive to be told the name of the parents of Telemachus? But the interrogations are very material; he makes them to learn if Telemachus or his father are friends to the person slain by his hand? if they were, instead of sailing with him, he would have reason to fly from him, as from a person who might take away his life by the laws of the country. Thus in the Hebrew law, Numb. xxxv. 9. The revenger of blood, (ο αγχιστευων, or propinquus) shall slay the murderer, when he meeteth him. But the Jews had cities of refuge, to which the murtherers fled as to a sanctuary: The Greeks in like manner, if the homicide fled into a voluntary exile, permitted him to be in security till the murther was aton'd, either by fulfilling a certain time of banishment, or by a pecuniary mulct or expiation.

I will only further remark the conciseness of these interrogations of Theoclymenus; he asks four questions in a breath, in the compass of one line; his apprehensions of being pursu'd give him no leisure to expatiate. Homer judiciously adapts his Poetry to the circumstances of the murtherer, a man in fear being in great haste to be in security. Telemachus answers with equal brevity, being under a necessity to finish his voyage in the night to avoid the ambush of the suitors. For this reason Homer shortens the relation, and complies with the exigency of Telemachus: With this further view; to unite the subordinate story of Telemachus with that of Ulysses, it being necessary to hasten to the chief action, and without delay carry on the main design of the Odyssey in the re-establishment of Ulysses.

This whole passage has been greatly corrupted; one line is omitted in all our editions of Homer, and the verses themselves are printed erroneously: for thus they stand, lib. 8. p. 539. of Strabo's Geography.

The first line is added from Strabo: thus in Latin,

He writes, αγαλλομενη, for επειγομενη: and φεας, instead of φερας. The course that Telemachus steer'd is thus explain'd by the same Author: He first sail'd northwardly as far as Elis, then he turn'd towards the east, avoiding the direct course to Ithaca, to escape the ambush of the suitors, who lay between Samos and Ithaca. Then he pass'd the Echinades (call'd Θοαι, that is οξειαι, or sharp-pointed by Homer. See Strabo, lib. 10. They are called Oxias by Pliny) lying near the gulph of Corinth, and the mouths of Achelous; thus leaving Ithaca on the east, and passing it, he alters his course again, sails northwardly between Ithaca and Acarnania, and lands on the coast opposite to the Cephallenian ocean, where the Suitors form'd their ambush. The places mention'd by Homer lie in this order, Cruni, Chalcis, and Phea: and are all rivers of small note, or rather brooks, as Strabo expresses it: αδοξων ποταμων ονοματα, μαλλον δε Οχετων.

It is highly probable that Pheæ, and not Pheræ, is the true reading, for Pheræ lay in Messenia, and not in Elis, as Strabo writes, and was in possession of Agamemnon; for he mentions that city amongst the seven which he promises Achilles, in the ninth book of the Iliad.

If it had not been under his dominion, how could he transfer the right to Achilles? besides, it would be absurd to joyn Pheræ directly with Chalcis, when the one was in Messenia, the other in Elis; this would make the course of Telemachus's Navigation unintelligible, if Elis and Messenia were confounded in the relation, and used promiscuously without order or regularity.

I will only add that Strabo in the 20th book of his Geography, instead of Καλλιρεεθρον, reads πετρηεοσσαν, perhaps thro' a slip of his memory.

Mercury was the servant and minister of the Gods, and was feign'd to be the patron of all persons of the like station upon earth; it was supposed to be by his favour that all servants and attendants were successful in their several functions. In this view the connexion will be easy, “I will go (says Ulysses) and offer my service to the suitors, and by the favour of Mercury, who gives success to persons of my condition, shall prosper; for no man is better able to execute the offices of attendance, than my self.” It may be objected, that these functions are unworthy of the character, and beneath the dignity of an Heroe: but Ulysses is obliged to act in his assum'd, not real character; as a beggar, not as a King. Athenæus (lib. 1. p. 18.) vindicates Ulysses in another manner. “Men (says he) in former ages perform'd their own offices, and gloried in their dexterity in such employments. Thus Homer describes Ulysses as the most dextrous man living, in ordering wood for the fire, and in the arts of cookery.” But it is no more derogation to him to put on the appearance of a beggar, than it was to Pallas to assume that of a swain, as she frequently does throughout the Odyssey.

The sense of this passage appears to me very obvious; Dacier renders it, whose violence and insolence is so great, that they regard not the Gods, and that they attack even the heavens. I should rather chuse to understand the words in the more plain and easy construction: Grotius is of this judgment, and thinks they bear the same import as these in Gen. xviii. 21. I will go down and see if they have done according to the cry which is come unto heaven; and indeed there is a great similitude between the expressions.

These questions may seem to be needless, because Ulysses had been fully acquainted with the story of Laertes, and the Death of his mother Anticlea, by the shade of Tiresias; but Ulysses personates a stranger, and to carry on that character, pretends to be unacquainted with all the affairs of his own family. I cannot affirm that such frequent repetitions of the same circumstances are beautiful in Homer; the retirement of Laertes has been frequently mention'd, and the death of Anticlea related in other parts of the Odyssey; however necessary such reiterated accounts may be, I much question whether they will prove entertaining: Homer himself in this place seems to apprehend it, for Eumæus passes over the questions made by Ulysses with a very short answer, and enlarges upon other circumstances, relating to his family and affairs, to give (as Eustathius observes) variety to his Poetry. But this conduct is very judicious upon another account: It lets Ulysses into the knowledge of his condition, and by it he is able to take his measures with the greater certainty, in order to bring about his own re-establishment. This is a demonstration that the objection of Rapin is without foundation; he calls these interviews between Ulysses and Eumæus mere idle fables, invented solely for amusement, and contributing nothing to the action of the Odyssey; but the contrary is true, for Ulysses directs his course according to these informations.

This verse,

has been traduc'd into the utmost obscenity; Eustathius vindicates the expression: It means “I have sustain'd my self with meat and drink by an honest industry, and have got wherewithal to relieve virtue that wants.” He interprets αιδοιοισιν, by ανδρασιν αιδους αξιοις; or, men worthy of regard and honour: ξηνοις και ικεταις. The following words,

are capable of a double construction, and imply either that I take no delight in hearing of Penelope, she being in distress, and in the power of the suitors; or that the suitors so besiege the palace, that it is impossible for me to hear one gentle word from Penelope, or receive one obliging action from her hand. The preference is submitted to the Reader's judgment; they both contain images of tenderness and humanity.

From hence we may conclude, that the return of Ulysses was probably in the decline of the year, in the latter part of the autumn, and not in the summer; the nights then being short cannot be called Νυκτες αθησφατοι. Eustathius.

This aphorism is agreeable to nature and experience; the same thing is asserted by Hippocrates, Sleep or watchfulness, when excessive, becomes diseases; too much sleep occasions an access of perspiration, and consequently weakens and dissipates the animal spirits. Dacier.

There is undoubtedly a great pleasure in the remembrance of past sufferings: Nay, calamity has this advantage over prosperity; an evil when past turns into a comfort; but a past pleasure, though innocent, leaves in its room an anxiety for the want of it, and if it be a guilty pleasure, a remorse. The reason (observes Eustathius) why past evils delight, is from the consciousness of the praise due to our prudence and patience under them, from the sense of our felicity in being deliver'd from them, and from gratitude to divine providence, which has deliver'd us. It is the joy of good men to believe themselves the favourites of Heaven.

This is an antient name of Delos, so call'd from ορτυξ, a Quail, from the great numbers of those birds found upon that Island. Lycophron, in his obscure way of writing, calls it ορτυξ πτερουμηνη or the winged Quail; perhaps from the fable of Asteria being turn'd into that bird in her flight from Jupiter, and giving name to the Island from the transformation she suffer'd upon it. It is one of the Cyclades, and lies in the Ægean ocean. Syria, or Syros, is another small Island lying eastward of Ithaca, according to true Geography.

The words in Homer are τροπαι ηελιοιο, or solis conversiones. Monsieur Perrault insults the Poet as ignorant of Geography, for placing Syros under the Tropick; an error (says he) which Commentators in vain have labour'd to defend, by having recourse to a Sun-dial of Pherecydes on which the motions of the Sun (the τροπαι ηελιοιο) were design'd. The last defence would indeed be ridiculous, since Pherecydes flourish'd three hundred years after the time of Homer: No one (replies Monsieur Boileau) was ever at any difficulty about the sense of this passage; Eustathius proves that τρηπεσθαι signifies the same as δυνειν, and denotes the setting of the Sun; so that the words mean, that Syros is situate above Ortygia, on that side where the Sun sets, or westerly, προς τα δυτικα μηρη της Ορτυγιας. 'Tis true, Eustathius mentions a bower, Σπηλαιον, in which the conversions of the Sun were figur'd. This indeed would fully vindicate Homer; but Bochart and others affirm, that Eustathius is in an error, and that Syros is so far from lying to the west, or προς τροπας ηελιοιο, that it bears an eastern position both with respect to Ithaca and Delos: How is this objection to be answer'd? Bochart p. 411. of his Geographia sacra, explains it by having recourse to the bower mention'd by Eustathius, in which the motions of the Sun were drawn. Pherecydes (says Hesychius Milesius) having collected the writings of the Phœnicians, from the use of them alone without any instructor, became famous in the world by the strength of his own genius: And Laertius writes, that an Heliotrope made by him was preserv'd in the Island of Syros. Thus it is evident, that he borrow'd his knowledge from the Phœnicians, and probably his skill in Astronomy, they being very expert in that science, by reason of its use in their navigation. Why then might there not be a machine which exhibited the motions of the Sun, made by the Phœnicians, and why might not Homer be acquainted with it? It is probable that Pherecydes took his pattern from this Heliotrope, which being one of the greatest rarities of antiquity, might give a great reputation to Syros, and consequently was worthy to be celebrated by Homer, the great preserver of Antiquities. Fallitur igitur, (says Bochart) Eustathius, cum vult intelligi, quasi sita sit Syrus ad occiduas partes Deli; cum contra Deli ad ortum sit Syrus, non ad occasum; & rem sic se habere ex ipso Homero patet, apud quem Eumæus in Ithaca, Syriam asserit esse trans Delum, quo nihil dici potuit falsius, si Syrus sit ad occasum Deli. If this answer appears to any person too studied and abstruse, the difficulty may be solv'd, by supposing Eumæus speaking of Delos as it lay with respect to Syrus, before he was carry'd from it; for instance, if Syrus lies on the east of Delos to a man in Ithaca, both Ithaca and Delos will lie on the west of Syrus to one of that Island; I would therefore imagine that Eumæus speaks as a native of Syros, and not as a sojourner in Ithaca, and then Delos will lie towards the sun-setting, or προς ηλιου Τροπας: But this last I only propose as a conjecture, not presuming to offer it as a decision.

It is probable that Homer was well acquainted with the nature of this Island, and that it really enjoy'd an admirable temperature of air, and therefore was exceedingly heathful; the fertility of the soil proves the happiness of the air, which would naturally free the inhabitants from the maladies arising from a less salubrious situation. It is for this reason that they are said to be slain by Diana and Apollo. All deaths that were sudden, and without sickness, were ascrib'd to those Deities. Bochart (p. 410.) tells us, that the name of Syros was given to the Island by the Phœnicians; Asira or Sira signifying rich, in their language; or rather it was so called from Sura, or Asura, signifying happy; either of these derivations fully denote the excellence both of the soil and air: and that this name is of Phœnician extract is probable from the words of Homer, who assures us that they stay'd a whole year upon this Island, and consequently had opportunity to know the healthfulness and fertility of it.

Here is a full testimony, that the Phœnicians were remarkable for arts and navigation over all the old world. They were expuls'd from their country by Joshua, (as Bochart informs us) and then settling along the sea coasts, they spread over all the Mediterranean, and by degrees sent out Colonies into Europe, Asia, and Afric; that they were in Afric appears from Procopius, where he mentions a pillar with a Phœnician inscription. Ημεις εσμεν οι φυγοντες αποπροσωπου Ιησου του ληστου υιου Νανη; that is, We are a people that fly from Joshua the son of Nun, the robber; they gave him that title out of resentment for their dispossession. The character they bear in the Scriptures agrees with this in Homer. Isaiah xxiii. 2. The Merchants of Sidon, that pass over the seas; and it likewise appears from the Scriptures, that they excell'd in all arts of embroidery, and works of curiosity.

I was surpriz'd to find that Eustathius mistook this Phœnician woman for the mother of Eumæus; she herself tells us, that she was only his Governess.

It is not probable that Eumæus would have painted his own mother in the dress of an adultress, and an abandon'd traytress: Nay, he directly distinguishes his mother from this Phœnician in the sequel of the story, (where he calls her ποτνια μητηρ, or his venerable mother) and when he speaks of the Phœnician, he constantly calls her γυνη, not μητηρ. Nor indeed could he have call'd her ποτνια at all, if she had not been a person of such a detestable character. Spondanus adopts the mistake of Eustathius, and endeavours to vindicate her from the manner of her frailty. Modeste decepta donis, &c. ut eorum libidine obsecundaret, “it was a modest adultery, she being deceived by bribes to yield to their solicitation.” However erroneous this opinion is, yet it shews Spondanus to be a kind and complaisant Casuist.

There is a little incredibility in this narration: for if Eumæus was such an infant as he is describ'd to be at the time when he was betray'd by his Phœnician Governess, what probability is there that he should be able to retain all these particulars so circumstantially? He was not of an age capable of making, or remembring so many observations. The answer is, that he afterwards learn'd them from Laertes, who bought him of the Phœnicians: and no doubt they told him the quality of Eumæus, to enhance the Price and make the better bargain. It is also natural to imagine, that Eumæus, when he grew up to manhood, would be inquisitive after his own birth and fortunes, and therefore might probably learn these particulars from Laertes. Eustathius.

It is evident from this passage, that it is above six days sail from Ithaca to Syros, tho' carried with favourable winds. Dacier.

I would just observe the poetical justice of Homer, in the punishment of this Phœnician. Misfortune generally pursues wickedness, and tho' we escape the vengeance of man, yet heav'n frequently overtakes us when we think we are in security, and death calls us from our impious acquisitions.

Homer has here given us an History of the life of Eumæus; the Episode contains near an hundred lines, and may seem entirely foreign to the action of the Odyssey. I will not affirm that it is in every respect to be justify'd. The main story is at a stand; but we are to consider that this relation takes up but small part of one leisure evening, and that the action cannot proceed till the return of Telemachus. It is of use to set off the character of Eumæus, and shew him to be a person of quality, worthy to be an agent in an Epic Poem, where every character ought to be remote from meanness: So the story has a distant relation to the Odyssey, and perhaps is not to be look'd upon merely as an excrescence from the main building, but a small projection to adorn it.

This is the morning of the thirty eighth day since the beginning of the Odyssey. 'Tis observable that Telemachus takes more time in his return from Pylos, than in sailing thither from his own country; for in the latter end of the second book he sets sail after sun-setting, and reach'd Pyle in the morning: Here he embarks in the afternoon, and yet arrives not at Ithaca till after break of day. The reason of it is not to be ascrib'd to a less prosperous wind, but to the greater compass he was oblig'd to fetch, to escape the ambush of the suitors. In the former voyage he steer'd a direct course; in this, he sails round about to the north of Ithaca, and therefore wastes more time in his voyage to it.

The words in the original are οδυσσηος γεγας εξειν, which may either be render'd, to obtain the honour of marrying Penelope, agreebly to the former part of the verse; or it means that Eurymachus has the fairest hopes to marry Penelope, and obtain the throne or γερας of Ulysses. Hobbs translates the verse almost obscenely in the former sense:

The former in my judgment is the better construction, especially because it avoids a tautology, and gives a new image in the second part of the verse, very different from the sense express'd in the former part of it. But of all the meanings it is capable of I should prefer this; “That he courts her upon the most honourable principles, and seems desirous to have the honour of Ulysses, by imitating his worth”; and this is agreeable to the character of Eurymachus, which distinguishes him from all the other Suitors.

The Augury is thus to be interpreted; Ulysses is the hawk, the Suitors the pidgeon; the hawk denotes the valour of Ulysses, being a bird of prey; the pigeon represents the cowardice of the Suitors, that bird being remarkable for her timorous nature. The hawk flies on the right, to denote success to Ulysses.

Homer calls this bird the Messenger of Apollo; not that this augury was sent by that Deity, (tho' that be no forced interpretation) but the expression implies, that the hawk was sacred to Apollo; as the peacock was to Juno, the owl to Pallas, and the eagle to Jupiter. Thus Ælian, anim. lib. 10. c. 14. Αιγυπτιοι τον ιερακα τω Απολλωνι τιμαν εοικασι, &c. and he gives the reason of it, for the hawk is the only bird that is capable to bear the lustre of the Sun without inconvenience and difficulty; the same is said of the eagle, but this hawk is reckon'd to be of the Aquiline kind. It was death among the Ægyptians to kill this bird, because it was dedicated to Apollo.

There is another reason why any bird that was taken notice of by way of augury, may be said to be the messenger of Apollo: that Deity presiding over divination.

The reason why Theoclymenus withdraws Telemachus, while he interprets the Augury, is not apparent at the first view; but he does it out of an apprehension lest he should be over-heard by some of the company, who might disclose the secret to the Suitors, and such a discovery might prove fatal to his own person, or to the fortunes of Telemachus Eustathius.

We find that Telemachus intended to deliver Theoclymenus to the care of Eurymachus: What then is the reason why he thus suddenly alters that resolution, and intrusts him to Peiræus? This is occasion'd by the discovery of the skill of Theoclymenus in Augury: He fears lest the Suitors should extort some prediction from him that might be detrimental to his affairs, or should he refuse it, to the person of Theoclymenus. Eustathius.

This book comprehends somewhat more than the space of two days and one night; for the vision appears to Telemachus a little before the dawn, in the night preceding the thirty sixth day, and he lands in Ithaca on the thirty eighth in the morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eustathius quotes the same expression from other Authors of

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

Plantus does the same in his Alularia:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spondanus mistakes this passage egregiously.

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

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

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

This rule he afterwards illustrates by a very happy similitude,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are two reasons for the return of Telemachus; one, the duty a son owes to a mother; the other, to find an opportunity to put in execution the designs concerted with Ulysses: the Poet therefore shifts the scene from the Lodge to the Palace. Telemachus takes not Ulysses along with him, for fear he should raise suspicion in the Suitors, that a person in a beggar's garb has some secret merit, to obtain the familiarity of a King's son, and this might be an occasion of a discovery; whereas when Ulysses afterwards appears amongst the Suitors, he is thought to be an entire stranger to Telemachus, which prevents all jealousy, and gives them an opportunity to carry on their measures without any particular observation. Besides, Eumæus is still to be kept in ignorance concerning the person of Ulysses? Telemachus therefore gives him a plausible reason for his return; namely, that his mother may no longer be in pain for his safety: This likewise excellently contributes to deceive Eumæus. Now as the presence of Ulysses in the Palace is absolutely necessary to bring about the Suitor's destruction, Telemachus orders Eumæus to conduct him thither, and by this method he comes as the friend and guest of Eumæus, not of Telemachus: Moreover, this injunction was necessary: Eumæus was a person of such generosity, that he would have thought himself obliged to detain his guest under his own care and inspection: nay, before he guides him towards the Palace, in the sequel of this book, he tells Ulysses he does it solely in compliance with the order of Telemachus, and acts contrary to his own inclinations.

This might appear too free a declaration, if Telemachus had made it before he knew Ulysses; for no circumstance could justify him for using any disregard toward the poor and stranger, according to the strict notions, and the sanctity, of the laws of hospitality amongst the antients: but as the case stands we are not the least shock'd at the words of Telemachus, we know the reason why he thus speaks: It is to conceal Ulysses. He is so far from shewing any particular regard to him, that he treats him with a severity in some degree contrary to the laws of hospitality; by adding, that if he complains of this hard usage, the complaint will not redress but encrease his calamity.

This description presents us with a noble idea of the beauty and chastity of Penelope; her person resembles Venus, but Venus with the modest air of Diana. Dionysius Halicarn. takes notice of the beauty and softness of these two verses.

When Homer (remarks that Author) paints a beautiful face, or an engaging object, he chuses the softest vowels, and most smooth and flowing semivowels: He never clogs the pronounciation with-rough sounds, and a collision of untunable consonants, but every syllable, every letter conspires to exhibit the beauty of the object he endeavours to represent: There are no less than three and thirty vowels in two lines, and no more than twenty nine consonants, which makes the verses flow away with an agreeable smoothness and harmony.

Penelope, we see, embraces her son with the utmost affection: Kissing the lip was not in fashion in the days of Homer; No one (remarks the Bishop) ever kisses the lip or mouth. Penelope here kisses her son's eyes, and his head; that is, his cheek, or perhaps forehead: and Eumæus, in the preceding book, embraces the hands, eyes. and head of Telemachus. But for the comfort of the Ladies, I rejoice to observe that all these were ceremonious kisses from a mother to a son, or from an inferior to a superior: This therefore is no argument that lovers thus embrac'd, nor ought it to be brought as a reason why the present manner of salutation should be abrogated. Madam Dacier has been so tender as to keep it a secret from the men, that there ever was a time in which the modern method of kissing was not in fashion; she highly deserves their thanks and gratitude for it.

There is a vein of sincere piety that runs thro' the words and actions of Telemachus: he has no sooner delivered his mother from her uneasy apprehensions concerning his safety, but he proceeds to another act of virtue toward Theoclymenus, whom he had taken into his protection: He performs his duty towards men and towards the Gods. It is by his direction that Penelope offers up her devotions for success, and thanks for his return. It is he who prescribes the manner of it; namely, by washing the hands, in token of the purity of mind requir'd by those who supplicate the Deities; and by putting on clean garments, to shew the reverence and regard with which their souls ought to be possest when they appear before the Gods. I am not sensible that the last ceremony is often mentioned in other parts of Homer; yet I doubt not but it was practis'd upon all religious solemnities. The moral of the whole is, that piety is a sure way to victory: Telemachus appears every where a good man, and for this reason he becomes at last an happy one; and his calamities contribute to his glory.

Penelope had requested Telemachus to give her an account of his voyage to Pyle, and of what he had heard concerning Ulysses. He there wav'd the discourse, because the Queen was in public with her female attendants: by this conduct the Poet sustains both their characters; Penelope is impatient to hear of Ulysses, and this agrees with the affection of a tender wife; but the discovery being unseasonable, Telemachus forbears to satisfy her curiosity; in which he acts like a wise man. Here (observes Eustathius) she gently reproaches him for not satisfying her impatience concerning her husband; she insinuates that it is a piece of cruelty to permit her still to grieve, when it is in his power to give her comfort; and this induces him to gratify her desires. It ought to be observ'd, that Homer chuses a proper time for this relation; it was necessary that the Suitors should be ignorant of the story of Ulysses; Telemachus therefore makes it when they are withdrawn to their sports, and when none were present but friends.

Eustathius takes notice of the candid behaviour of Telemachus with respect to Helen: She had receiv'd him courteously, and he testifies his gratitude, by ascribing the calamities she drew upon her country to the decree of heav'n, not to her immodesty: This is particularly decent in the mouth of Telemachus, because he is now acquainted with his father's return; otherwise he could not have mention'd her name but to her dishonour, who had been the occasion of his death.

These verses are repeated from the fourth Odyssey; and are not without a good effect, they cannot fail of comforting Penelope, by assuring her that Ulysses is alive, and restrain'd by Calypso involuntarily; they give her hopes of his return, and the satisfaction of hearing his glory from the mouth of Menelaus. The conciseness of Telemachus is likewise remarkable; he re-capitulates in thirty eight lines the subject of almost three books, the third, the fourth and fifth; he selects every circumstance that can please Penelope, and drops those that would give her pain.

It is with great judgment that the Poet here introduces Theoclymenus; he is a person that has no direct relation to the story of the Odyssey, yet because he appears accidentally in it, Homer unites him very artificially with it, that he may not appear to no purpose, and as an useless ornament. He here speaks as an Augur, and what he utters contributes to the perseverance of Penelope in resisting the addresses of the Suitors, by assuring her of the return of Ulysses; and consequently in some degree Theoclymenus promotes the principal action. But it may be said, if it was necessary that Penelope should be informed of his return, why does not Telemachus assure her of it, who was fully acquainted with the truth? The answer is, that Penelope is not to be fully inform'd, but only encouraged by a general hope: Theoclymenus speaks from his art, which may possibly be liable to error; but Telemachus must have spoken from knowledge, which would have been contrary to the injunctions of Ulysses, and might have prov'd fatal by an unseasonable discovery: It was therefore judicious in the Poet to put the assurance of the return of Ulysses into the mouth of Theoclymenus, and not of Telemachus.

There is an expression in this speech, which in the Greek is remarkable; literally it is to be render'd, Ulysses is now sitting or creeping in Ithaca, ημενος η ερπων; that is, Ulysses is return'd and conceal'd: It is taken from the posture of a person in the act of endeavouring to hide himself: he sits down or creeps upon the ground. Eustathius explains it by κρυφα, και ου κατ' ορθον βαδιζων.

Eustathius remarks, that tho' the Suitors were abandon'd to luxury, vice, and intemperance, yet they exercise themselves in laudable sports: They toss the quoit, or throw the javelin, which are both heroic diversions, and form the body into strength and activity. This is owing to the virtue of the age, not the persons: such sports were fashionable, and therefore used by the Suitors, and not because they were heroic. However they may instruct us never to give our selves up to idleness and inaction; but to make our very diversions subservient to nobler views, and turn a pleasure into a virtue.

We may observe that the character of Medon is very particular; he is at the same time a favourite of the Suitors, and Telemachus, persons entirely opposite in their interests. It seldom happens that any man can please two parties, without acting an insincere part: Atticus was indeed equally acceptable to the two factions of Cæsar and Pompey, but it was because he seem'd neutral, and acted as if they were both his friends; or rather he was a man of such eminent virtues, that they esteem'd it an honour to have him thought their friend. Homer every where represents Medon as a person of integrity; he is artful, but not criminal: no doubt but he made all compliances, that consisted with probity, with the Suitor's dispositions; by this method he sav'd Penelope more effectually than if he had shew'd a more rigid virtue. He made himself master of their hearts by an insinuating behaviour, and was a spy upon their actions. Eustathius compares him to a buskin that fits both legs, οιων τις Κοθορνος; he seems to have been an Anti-Cato, and practis'd a virtuous gayety.

Such little traits as these are very delightful; for the Reader knowing that the person to whom this offer is made, is Ulysses, cannot fail of being diverted to see the honest and loyal Eumæus promising to make his master and King the keeper of his herds or stalls, σταθμων; and this is offer'd as a piece of good fortune or dignity.

Eustathius gathers from these words, that the time of the action of the Odyssey was in the end of autumn, or beginning of winter, when the mornings and evenings are cold: Thus Ulysses, in the beginning of this book, makes the coldness of the morning an excuse for not going with Telemachus; his rags being but an ill defense against it: and here Eumæus mentions the coldness of the evening, as a reason why they should begin their journey in the heat of the day; so that it was now probably about ten of the clock, and they arrive at Ithaca at noon: from hence we may conjecture, that the lodge of Eumæus was five or six miles from the city, that is, about a two hours walk.

It is certain that if these little particulars had been omitted, there would have been no chasm in the connection; why then does Homer insert such circumstances unnecessarily, which it must be allowed are of no importance, and add nothing to the perfection of the story? nay, they are such as may be thought trivial, and unworthy the dignity of Epic Poetry. But, as Dacier very well observes, they are a kind of painting: Were a Painter to draw this subject, he would undoubtedly insert into the piece these herdsmen and dogs after the manner of Homer; they are natural ornaments, and consequently are no disgrace either to the Poet or the Painter.

It is observable that Homer gives us an exact draught of the country; he sets before us, as in a picture, the city, the circular grove of poplars adjacent, the fountain falling from a rock, and the Altar sacred to the Nymphs, erected on the point of it. We are as it were transported into Ithaca, and travel with Ulysses and Eumæus: Homer verifies the observation of Horace above all Poets; namely, that Poetry is Painting.

Public benefactions demand public honours and acknowledgments; for this reason Homer makes an honourable mention of these three brothers. Ithaca was a small Island, and destitute of plenty of fresh water; this fountain therefore was a public good to the whole region about it; and has given immortality to the Authors of it. They were the sons of Pterelaus (as Eustathius informs us) Ithacus gave name to the country, Neritus to a mountain, and Polyctor to a place call'd Polyctorium.

Dacier is very singular in her interpretation of this passage: She imagines it has a reference to the games practis'd amongst the Suitors, and to the rewards of the victors, which were usually Tripods and beautiful captives. “Thinkest thou (says Melanthius) that this beggar will obtain the victory in our sports, and that they will give him as the reward of his valour, some beautiful slave, or some precious Tripod?” But in Homer there is nothing that gives the least countenance to this explication: He thus literally speaks: This fellow by going from door to door will meet with correction, while he begs meanly for a few scraps, not for things of price, such as a captive or Tripod. Eustathius explains it as spoken in contempt of Ulysses; that he appears to be such a vile person, as to have no ambition or hope to expect any thing better than a few scraps, nor to aspire to the rewards of nobler strangers, such as captives or Tripods. Ακολοι, says the same Author, are the minutest crumbs of bread, σμικροτατοι ψωμοι. I am persuaded, that the Reader will subscribe to the judgment of Eustathius, if he considers the construction, and that αορας and λεβητας are govern'd by αιτιζων as effectually as ακολους, and therefore must refer to the same act of begging, not of claiming by victory in the games; αιτιζων is not a word that can here express a reward, but only a charity: besides, would it not be absurd to say that a Beggar goes from door to door asking alms, and not rewards bestow'd upon victors in public exercises? the words πολλησι φλιησι make the sense general, they denote the life of a beggar, which is to go from door to door, and consequently they ought not to be confin'd solely to the Suitors, and if not, they can have no reference to any games, or to any rewards bestowed upon such occasions. Besides it is scarce to be conceiv'd that Melanthius could think this Beggar capable of being admitted into the company, much less into the diversions of the Suitors, who were all persons of high birth and station. 'Tis true, Lib. 21. Ulysses is permitted to try the bow, but this is through the peculiar grace of Telemachus, who knew the Beggar to be Ulysses; and entirely contrary to their injunctions.

From this Passage we may correct an error in Hesychius: αορες (says he) are γυναικες και τριποδες: the sentence is evidently maim'd, for Hesychius undoubtedly thus wrote it, αορες γυναικες λεγονται, for thus (adds he) Homer uses it:

that is (says Hesychius) ουγυναικας ουδε τριποδας, referring to this Verse of the Odyssey.

Homer excellently sustains the character of Ulysses; he is a Man of patience, and master of all his passions; he is here misused by one of his own servants, yet is so far from returning the injury, that he stifles the sense of it, without speaking one word: 'Tis true he is describ'd as having a conflict in his Soul; but this is no derogation to his character: not to feel like a man, is Insensibility, not Virtue; but to repress the emotions of the heart, and keep them within the bounds of moderation, this argues wisdom, and turns an injury into a virtue and glory. There is an excellent contrast between the benevolent Eumæus, and the insolent Melanthius. Eumæus resents the Outrage of Melanthius more than Ulysses; he is moved with indignation but how does he express it? not by railing, but by an appeal to Heaven in a prayer: A conduct worthy to be imitated in more enlighten'd ages. The word αγλαιας here bears a peculiar signification; it does not imply Voluptuousness as usually, but Pride, and means that Ulysses would spoil his haughty airs, if he should ever return: This interpretation agrees with what follows, where Eumæus reproaches him for despising his rural charge, and aspiring to politeness, or as we express it, to be a Man of the Town.

We may gather from hence the truth of an observation formerly made, That Melanthius, Eumæus, &c. were persons of distinction, and their offices posts of honour: we see Melanthius, who had charge of the Goats of Ulysses, is a companion for Princes.

The reason why Melanthius in particular associates himself with Eurymachus is, an intrigue which that Prince holds with Melantho his sister, as appears from the following Book. There is a confederacy and league between them, and we find they all suffer condign punishment in the end of the Odyssey.

We have here a very particular draught or plan of the palace of Ulysses; it is a kind of castle, at once design'd for strength and magnificence: this we may gather from υπεροπλισσαιτο, which Hesychius explains by υπερπηδησαι, υπερβηναι, not easily to be surmounted, or forc'd by arms.

Homer artfully introduces Ulysses struck with wonder at the beauty of the palace; this is done to confirm Eumæus in the opinion that Ulysses is really the Beggar he appears to be, and a perfect stranger among the Ithacans: Thus also when he complains of hunger, he speaks the language of a Beggar, as Eustathius remarks, to persuade Eumæus that he takes his journey to the Court, solely out of want and hunger.

This whole Episode has fallen under the ridicule of the Critics; Monsieur Perault in particular: “The Dunghill before the Palace (says that Author) is more proper for a Peasant than a King; and it is beneath the dignity of Poetry to describe the Dog Argus almost devour'd with vermin.” It must be allow'd, that such a familiar Episode could not have been properly introduced into the Iliad: It is writ in a nobler style, and distinguish'd by a boldness of sentiments and diction; whereas the Odyssey descends to the Familiar, and is calculated more for common than heroic life. What Homer says of Argus is very natural, and I do not know any thing more beautiful or more affecting in the whole Poem: I dare appeal to every person's judgment, if Argus be not as justly and properly represented, as the noblest figure in it. It is certain that the vermin which Homer mentions would debase our Poetry, but in the Greek that very word is noble and sonorous, Κυνοραιστεων: But how is the objection concerning the Dunghill to be answer'd? We must have recourse to the simplicity of manners amongst the Antients, who thought nothing mean, that was of use to life. Ithaca was a barren Country, full of Rocks and Mountains, and ow'd its fertility chiefly to cultivation, and for this reason such circumstantial cares were necessary. 'Tis true such a description now is more proper for a Peasant than a King, but antiently it was no disgrace for a King to perform with his own hands, what is now left only to Peasants. We read of a Dictator taken from the plough, and why may not a King as well manure his field as plough it, without receding from his dignity? Virgil has put the same thing into a Precept:

It may seem that this circumstance was inserted casually, or at least only to shew the age and infirmity of Argus: but there is a further intent in it: If the Dog had ran to Ulysses and fawn'd upon him, it would have rais'd a strong suspicion in Eumæus that he was not such a stranger to the Ithacans as he pretended, but some person in disguise; and this might have occasioned an unseasonable discovery. Eustathius.

I confess my self touch'd with the tenderness of these tears in Ulysses; I would willingly think that they proceed from a better principle than the weakness of human nature, and are an instance of a really virtuous and compassionate disposition.

Good men are easily mov'd to Tears: In my judgment, Ulysses appears more amiable while he weeps over his faithful Dog, than when he drives an army of enemies before him: That shews him to be a great Heroe, This a good Man. It was undoubtedly an instance of an excellent disposition in one of the Fathers who pray'd for the Grace of Tears.

Juv. Sat. 15.

And Dryden,

It is the Greek ανακτες, or Kings; but the word is not to be taken in too strict a sense; it implies all persons of distinction, or οικοδεσποτας, like the word Rex in Horace.

And Reginæ in Terence (as Dacier observes) is used in the same manner.

This is a very remarkable sentence, and commonly found to be true. Longinus in his enquiry into the decay of human wit quotes it. “Servitude, be it never so justly established, is a kind of prison, wherein the soul shrinks in some measure, and diminishes by constraint: it has the same effect with the boxes in which dwarfs are inclos'd, which not only hinder the body from its growth, but make it less by the constriction. It is observable that all the great Orators flourish'd in Republics, and indeed what is there that raises the souls of great men more than Liberty? In other governments men commonly become instead of Orators, pompous flatterers: A man born in servitude may be capable of other sciences; but no slave can ever be an Orator; for while the mind is deprest and broken by slavery, it will never dare to think or say any thing bold and noble; all the vigour evaporates, and it remains as it were confin'd in a prison. Etiam fera animalia, si clausa teneas, virtutis obliviscuntur.

These verses are quoted in Plato, lib. 6. de legibus, but somewhat differently from our editions.

However this aphorism is to be understood only generally, not universally; Eumæus who utters it is an instance to the contrary, who retains his virtue in a state of subjection; and Plato speaks to the same purpose, asserting that some slaves have been found of such virtue as to be preferr'd to a son or brother; and have often preserv'd their masters and their families.

It has been a question what occasion'd the death of Argus, at the instant he saw Ulysses: Eustathius imputes it to the joy he felt at the sight of his master. But there has another objection been started against Homer, for ascribing so long a life as twenty years to Argus, and that dogs never surpass the fifteenth year; but this is an error; Aristotle affirms, that some dogs live two and twenty, and other Naturalists subscribe to his judgment. Eustathius tells us, that other Writers agree, that some dogs live twenty four years. Pliny thus writes, Canes Laconici vivunt annis denis, fœmina duodenis, cætera genera quindecim annos, aliquando viginti. Madam Dacier mentions some of her own knowledge that liv'd twenty three years, and the Translator, not to fall short of these illustrious examples, has known one that died at twenty two, big with puppies.

We are not to imagine that Homer is here recommending immodesty: but to understand him as speaking of a decent assurance, in opposition to a faulty shame or bashfulness. The verse in the

A person of great learning has observed that there is a tautology in the three last words; in a beggar that wants: as if the very notion of a beggar did not imply want. Indeed Plato, who cites this verse in his Charmides, uses another word instead of προικτη, and inserts παρεινα. Hesiod likewise, who makes use of the same line, instead of προικτη reads κομιζει, which would almost induce us to believe that they thought there was a tautology in Homer. It has therefore been conjectur'd, that the word προικτης should be inserted in the place of προικτη; I am sorry that the construction will not allow it; that word is of the masculine gender, and αγαθη which is of the feminine cannot agree with it. We may indeed substitute αγαθος, and then the sense will be bashfulness is no good petitioner for a beggar; but this must be done without authority. We must therefore thus understand Homer; “Too much modesty is not good for a poor man, who lives by begging, προικτη; and this solution clears the verse from the tautology, for a man may be in want, and not be a beggar; or (as Homer expresses it) κεχρημενος, and yet not προικτης.

This is a circumstance that occurs almost in every book of the Odyssey, and Pallas has been thought to mean no more than the inherent wisdom of Ulysses, which guides all his actions upon all emergencies: It is not impossible but the Poet might intend to inculcate, that the wisdom of man is the gift of Heaven, and a blessing from the Gods. But then is it not a derogation to Ulysses, to think nothing but what the Goddess dictates? and a restraint of human liberty, to act solely by the impulse of a Deity? Plutarch in his life of Coriolanus excellently solves this difficulty. “Men (observes that Author) are ready to censure and despise the Poet, as if he destroy'd the use of reason, and the freedom of their choice, by continually ascribing every suggestion of heart to the influence of a Goddess: Whereas he introduces a Deity not to take away the liberty of the will, but as moving it to act with freedom; the Deity does not work in us the inclinations, but only offers the object to our minds, from whence we conceive the impulse, and form our resolutions.” However these influences do not make the action involuntary, but only give a beginning to spontaneous operations; for we must either remove God from all manner of causality, or confess that he invisibly assists us by a secret co-operation. For it is absurd to imagine that the help he lends us, consists in fashioning the postures of the body, or directing the corporeal motions; but in influencing our souls, and exciting the inward faculties into action by secret impulses from above; or on the contrary, by raising an aversion in the soul, to restrain us from action. 'Tis true in ordinary affairs of life, in matters that are brought about by the ordinary way of reason, Homer ascribes the execution of them to human performance, and frequently represents his Heroes calling a council in their own breasts, and acting according to the dictates of reason: But in actions unaccountably daring, of a transcendent nature, there they are said to be carry'd away by a divine impulse or enthusiasm, and it is no longer human reason, but a God that influences the soul.

I have already observ'd, that Homer makes use of Machines sometimes meerly for ornament; this place is an instance of it: Here is no action of an uncommon nature perform'd, and yet Pallas directs Ulysses: Plutarch very justly observes, that whenever the Heroes of Homer execute any prodigious exploit of valour, he continually introduces a Deity, who assists in the performance of it; but it is also true, that to shew the dependance of man upon the assistance of Heaven, he frequently ascribes the common dictates of wisdom to the Goddess of it. If we take the act here inspired by Minerva, as it lies nakedly in Homer it is no more than a bare command to beg; an act, that needs not the wisdom of a Goddess to command: But we are to understand it as a direction to Ulysses how to behave before the Suitors upon his first appearance, how to carry on his disguise so artfully as to prevent all suspicions, and take his measures so effectually as to work his own re-establishment: In this light, the command becomes worthy of a Goddess: The act of begging is only the method by which he carries on his design; the consequence of it is the main point in view, namely, the Suitors destruction. The rest is only the stratagem, by which he obtains the victory.

A single virtue, or act of humanity, is not a sufficient atonement for a whole life of insolence and oppression; so that altho' some of the Suitors should be found less guilty than the rest, yet they are still too guilty to deserve impunity.

Homer inserts this particularity to shew the complying nature of Ulysses in all fortunes; he is every where πολυτροπος, it is his distinguishing character in the first verse of the Odyssey, and it is visible in every part of it. He is an artist in the trade of begging as Eustathius observes, and knows how to become the lowest, as well as the highest station.

Homer adds, that the Suitors were struck with wonder at the fight of Ulysses. This is (says Eustathius) because they had never before seen him in Ithaca, and concluded him to be a foreigner. But I rather think it is a compliment Homer pays to his Heroe to represent his port and figure to be such, as tho' a beggar, struck them with astonishment.

This is an evidence of the great honour antiently paid to persons eminent in mechanic arts: The Architect, and publick artisans, δημιουργοι, are joyn'd with the Prophet, Physician, and Poet, who were esteem'd almost with a religious veneration, and look'd upon as public blessings. Honour was antiently given to men in proportion to the benefits they brought to society: A useless great man is a burthen to the earth, while the meanest artisan is beneficial to his fellow-creatures, and useful in his generation.

Ulysses here acts with a prudent dissimulation; he pretends not to have understood the irony of Antinous, nor to have observ'd his preparation to strike him; and therefore proceeds as if he apprehended no danger. This at once shews the patience of Ulysses who is inur'd to sufferings, and gives a foundation for the punishment of Antinous in the conclusion of the Odyssey.

It is observable, that Ulysses gives his own History in the same words as in the fourteenth book, yet varies from it in the conclusion; he there spoke to Eumæus, and Eumæus is here present, and hears the story: How is it then that he does not observe the falsification of Ulysses, and conclude him to be an impostor? Eustathius labours for an answer; he imagines that Eumæus was inadvertent, or had forgot the former relation, and yet asserts that the reason why Ulysses tells the same History in part to Antinous, proceeds from a fear of detection in Eumæus. I would rather imagine that Ulysses makes the deviation, trusting to the judgment of Eumæus, who might conclude that there was some good reason why he forbears to let Antinous into the full History of his life; especially, because he was an enemy both to Ulysses and Eumæus: he might therefore easily reflect, that the difference of his story arose from prudence and design, rather than from imposture and falshood.

We are not to search too exactly into historic truth among the fictions of Poetry; but it is very probable that this Dmetor was really King of Cyprus. Eustathius is of this opinion; but it may be objected, that Cinyras was King of Cyprus in the time of Ulysses. Thus lib. XI. Iliad.

The answer is, there were almost twenty years elapsed since the mention of this breast-plate of Cinyras; this King therefore being dead, Dmetor possest the Cyprian throne.

This passage is a full demonstration that the country was call'd Ægypt in the days of Homer, as well as the river Nilus; for in the speech he uses Αιγυπτος in the masculine gender to denote the river, and here he calls it πικρην Αιγυπτον in the feminine, to shew that he speaks of the country: The former word agreeing with ποταμος, the latter with γαια.

The reasoning of Ulysses in the original is not without some obscurity: For how can it be affirm'd, that it is no great affliction to have our property invaded, and to be wounded in the defence of it? The beggar who suffers for asking an alms, has no injury done him, except the violence offer'd to his person; but it is a double injury, to suffer both in our persons and properties. We must therefore suppose that Ulysses means, that the importance of the cause, when our rights are invaded, is equal to the danger, and that we ought to suffer wounds, or even death, in defence of it; and that a brave man grieves not at such laudable adventures. Or perhaps Ulysses speaks only with respect to Antinous, and means that it is a greater injury to offer violence to the poor and the stranger, than to persons of greater fortunes and station.

Eustathius gives a deeper meaning to the speech of Ulysses; he applies it to his present condition, and it is the same as if he had said openly, It would be no great matter if I had been wounded in defence of my Palace, and other properties, but to suffer only for asking an alms, this is a deep affliction. So that Ulysses speaks in general, but intends his own particular condition; and the import of the whole is, I grieve to suffer, not upon any weighty account, but only for being poor and hungry.

We have already observ'd, that it was the opinion of the antients, that the Gods frequently assum'd an human shape. Thus Ovid of Jupiter.

I refer the Reader to the objections of Plato, mention'd in the preceding book. It is observable, that Homer puts this remarkable truth into the mouth of the Suitors, to shew that it was certain and undeniable, when it is attested even by such persons as had no piety or religion.

This is spoken with particular judgment; Telemachus is here to act the part of a wise man, not of a tender son; he restrains his tears lest they should betray his father, it being improbable that he should weep for a vagabond and beggar. We find he has profited by the instructions of Ulysses, and practises the injunctions given in the former book.

Telemachus struggles against the yearnings of nature, and shews himself to be a master of his passions; he must therefore be thought to exert an act of wisdom, not of insensibility.

Diodorus Siculus thus writes of Mines: “He was the son of Jupiter and Europa, who was fabled to be carried by a bull; (that is, in a ship called the bull, or that had the image of a bull carved upon its prow) into Crete: Here Minos reign'd, and built many Cities; he establish'd many laws among the Cretans; he also provided a navy, by which he subdued many of the adjacent Islands. The expression in the Greek will bear a two fold sense; and implies either, where Minos was born, or where the descendants of Minos reign; for Idomeneus, who govern'd Crete in the days of Ulysses, was a descendant of Minos, from his son Deucalion.

Homer mentions it as an honour to Crete, to have given birth to so great a law-giver as Minos; and it is universally true, that every great man is an honour to his country: Athens did not give reputation to learn'd men, but learned men to Athens.

Eustathius fully explains the nature of this omen; for sneezing was reckon'd ominous both by the Greeks and Romans. While Penelope utter'd these words, Telemachus sneezes; Penelope accepts the omen, and expects the words to be verify'd. The original of the veneration paid to sneezing is this: The head is the most sacred part of the body, the seat of thought and reason: now the sneeze coming from the head, the Antients look'd upon it as a sign or omen, and believ'd it to be sent by Jupiter; therefore they regarded it with a kind of adoration: The Reader will have a full idea of the nature of the omen of sneezing here mention'd, from a singular instance in lib. 3. of Xenophon, in his expedition of Cyrus, Xenophon having ended a short speech to his soldiers with these words, viz. “We have many reasons to hope for preservation;” they were scarce utter'd, when a certain soldier sneez'd: the whole army took the omen, and at once paid adoration to the Gods; then Xenophon resuming his discourse, proceeded, Since, my fellow-soldiers, at the mention of our preservation, Jupiter has sent this omen, &c. So that Xenophon fully explains Homer. Sneezing was likewise reckon'd ominous by the Romans. Thus Catullus,

Thus also Propertius,

We find in all these instances that sneezing was constantly receiv'd as a good omen, or a sign of approbation from the Gods. In these ages we pay an idle superstition to sneezing, but it is ever look'd upon as a bad omen, and we cry God bless you, upon hearing it, as the Greeks in latter times said ζηθι or Ζευ σωσον. We are told this custom arose from a mortal distemper that affected the head, and threw the patient into convulsive sneezings, that occasion'd his death.

I will only add from Eustathius, that Homer expresses the loudness of the sneezing, to give a reason why Penelope heard it, she being in an apartment at some distance from Telemachus.

The sneezing likewise gives us the reason why Penelope immediately commands Eumæus to introduce the beggar into her presence; the omen gave her hopes to hear of Ulysses, she saw the beggar was a stranger, and a traveller, and therefore expected he might be able to give her some information.

These words bear a double sense, one applicable to the speaker, the other to the Reader: The Reader, who knows this beggar to be Ulysses, is pleas'd with the conceal'd meaning, and hears with pleasure the beggar affirming that he is fully instructed in the misfortunes of Ulysses: But speaking in the character of a beggar, he keeps Eumæus in ignorance, who believes he is reciting the adventures of a friend, while he really gives his own History.

The Reader may look back to the beginning of the preceding book, for the explication of δειλον ημας, here mention'd by Homer.

This book does not fully comprehend the space of one day: It begins with the morning, and ends before night, so that the time here mention'd by the Poet, is the evening of the thirty ninth day.