Book 4 — APPENDIX.

When I first determined to give my labours to the public, in hopes of contributing to the restoration of the Platonic philosophy, I embraced the resolution of Dr. Johnson and Goldsmith, to set the Reviewers at defiance. For I was fully convinced that neither able criticism, nor candid attention could be expected, where composition is dictated by the spirit of malevolence, and influenced by the views of pecuniary reward. However, though contempt is the most philosophical mode of revenge, yet as a certain author well observes severe retaliation is sometimes requisite, in order to convince the subjects of our revenge, that we do not stoop to the meanness of abject submission. This mode of retaliation the defamation of the Monthly Reviewers in their bundle of criticism for August last obliges me to adopt: and they have afforded me in this review the most favourable opportunity I could desire, of exposing their malevolence, ignorance, and pride. I shall begin, therefore, with instancing their malevolence, as it is the first in our list of their bad qualities, and is the general characteristic of these assuming critics. In my preface to the translation of Orpheus, after representing the difficulty of well translating the compound epithets of the Greek, into English, and the necessity of possessing the philosophic genius for this purpose. I add: “If some sparks of this celestial fire, shall appear to have animated the bosom of the translator, he will consider himself as well rewarded for his laborious undertaking.” Upon which these candid reviewers observe, (p. 138.) “Mr. Taylor was aware of this difficulty, though he seems to claim the merit of subduing it.” In the second place they assert, (p. 138.) that after lamenting, that the Commentary of Proclus on Plato’s Cratylus is not likely to be published, “I comfort myself with the hope that my own labours will in some measure supply its place, by opening the pure sources of genuine wisdom. And that to this end I promise copious and truly philosophic notes.” Now the passage which furnished this malevolent assertion is the following: “What farther light we have been able to throw on these mysterious remains of antiquity, will appear in our following notes. If the valuable Commentary of Proclus on the Cratylus of Plato, was once published, I am persuaded we should find them full of the most recondite theology: but as this is not to be expected in the present age, the lovers of wisdom will I doubt not gratefully accept the preceding and subsequent elucidations. For on a subject so full of obscurity as the present, a glimmering light, is as conspicuous, and as agreeable to the eye of the mind, as a small spark in profound darkness, is to the corporeal sight.” Dissertation, p. 106. The infamy of such misrepresentation is too glaring to require any illustration, too shameful to admit of any excuse, and in any other cause than that of verbal criticism, too contemptible either to rouse resentment, or deserve the most trifling attention. Let us now examine the specimens of ignorance which these Reviewers afford in great abundance; and which as I presume will appear much to the credit of my translation. In the first place I am charged with “universally translating the epithets φιλένθεος, φίλοιϛτρος, and μανικός, by the word fanatic, which I have employed in the sense of the Latin word, from which it is derived.” To which I reply, that the former part of this charge is false. For in the hymn to Minerva φιλοιϛρος is translated rage; in the hymn to Diana, fierce; and in the hymn to Dionysius Bassareus, μανικὸς is translated furious. [The latter part of this assertion is true. For as the word fanatic is immediately derived from the Latin word fanaticus, which according to their own confession means numine afflatus, or one inspired by a divine power; and as the great Scaliger, whose authority is always decisive, constantly translates φιλένθεος, fanaticus, I made no scruple of adopting it in my translation. That, fanatic is never used in a good sense by any author of repute may perhaps be true: but I see no reason why it should not be employed according to the meaning of its original, especially as there is no other word in our language so expressive of the words to which it corresponds in the Greek. The example of Aristotle, and the greatest men of antiquity sufficiently justifies both the invention of new terms when the poverty of a language requires a supply, and the adoption of old ones in a different sense, when the difficulty of the subject demands verbal innovation. After this I am accused of totally mistaking the meaning of various passages, the greater part of which I shall expose to the view of the reader with a literal translation, and comment; that the ignorance of the Reviewers may appear without that veil which at present screens it from the eyes of the unlearned in Greek. In the hymn to Pluto then, I have translated the following line:

That is, literally, “Thou art alone the dispensator of apparent and unapparent works.” Now there is nothing in my version can be objected to, but the omission of the word apparent, which the measure of the verse obliged me to neglect; and which the addition of visible and known in the second line renders superfluous, as the following observations will evince. According to the Orphic theology, Pluto belongs to the same order as the sun, and from his subsisting in occult union with this deity, he is celebrated as one and the same: a custom frequent with the Orphic theologists, as is well known to those who are skilled in their writings. Hence considered as the sun, he is the dispensator of apparent, and as Pluto, of unapparent works: and thus I presume, I have not totally mistaken the meaning of this line, in celebrating Pluto as a deity visible and known. But that the reader may be fully convinced of the truth of this assertion, concerning the occult union between Pluto and the sun, let him attend to the following Orphic verse, preserved by Justin Martyr, (in Cohortat. ad Gentes).

Again, in the epithet ἀγλαότιμε, it seems I have totally mistaken the meaning of my author, by translating it honor’d light. This word means literally exceedingly honoured: and the preceding exposition sufficiently proves the propriety of calling Pluto, lucid. Every reader knows the necessity there is in poetical translations of adding something to the original: and this is always allowed, when the addition is not contrary to the sense of the text, but either expands it, if condensed, or enlightens it, if obscure. I am likewise charged with mistaking the meaning of λόγου θνητοῖσι, προφῆτα, or, prophet of discourse to mortals, which I have rendered,

Now as this is literal, the mistake must consist in not substituting another word for prophet, which might express what the author meant; the Reviewers never dreaming that this word, when properly understood, is perfectly sufficient for the purpose. As they appear, therefore, to be totally ignorant of the original signification of a prophet, I shall subjoin its definition from Festus. “Prophetas dicebant veteres antistites fanorum, oraculorumque interpretes:” i.e. “the ancients called prophets the priests of fanes, and the interpreters of oracles.” Prophet of discourse, therefore, means interpreter of discourse: and as this epithet is applied to Mercury, it is doubtless highly proper; if we consider that he first reduced the infinity of voice into bound, by dividing letters into species; and thus truly became the interpreter of speech to mankind. In the hymn to Venus, I have translated,

And it is literally “Or if in Cyprus O queen, with thy nurse”. Fortunately for me, the metaphrase of Scaliger agrees with my version, “Sive in Cupro, matre tua”. Perhaps the Reviewers forgot, or perhaps they are ignorant, that a mother and a nurse are frequently synonymous terms! I shall not trouble the reader with any more instances of my mistakes, as I can faithfully assure him, that the remaining passages adduced by the Reviewers, betray if possible, more malevolence and ignorance than the present. I shall, therefore, proceed to a defence of some epithets, and expressions which I have employed; and in which these exquisite critics, can neither discover beauty, nor even propriety.

In the first place then, they confess that they have too little taste, or too little knowledge to discover either beauty, or propriety, in my translation of the following line:

i.e. literally, ‘Nymphs, daughters of the mighty ocean.’ Now as the exceptionable part of this line, is ocean’s stream, as appears by its being printed in italics; I can only assure the reader that I can plead no less authority than that of both Homer, Hesiod, Plato, and Milton for its propriety and beauty. Thus Homer, (Iliad xviii. l. 606.) speaking of the fabrication of Achilles’ shield by Vulcan, says:

So likewise: (Iliad xx. l. 7.)

Thus again, in the Odyssey: (lib. xi. l. 637.)

i.e. ‘But the waves of the current bore it (the vessel) through the ocean stream.’ And Milton had doubtless an eye to this last passage, when, speaking of the Leviathan, (Paradise Lost, book I.) he says:

For here, as the reader must observe, he uses the very same expression with Homer. But Milton was not only a great poet, but a man of great learning; and was doubtless much better acquainted with Homer than the Reviewers.

Thus too Hesiod: (in Theog. l. 241. &c.):

i.e. ‘and from the fair haired Doris, the daughter of the perfect stream of the ocean.’ And the same epithet is used in l. 959. of the same work. And lastly, Plato in the Phædo, thus speaks of the ocean, as one of the four great rivers, of which Tartarus is the source: τὰ μὲν οὖν δὴ ἄλλα πολλά τε καὶ μεγάλα καὶ παντοδαπὰ ῥεύματά ἐϛι. τυγχάνει δ’ ἄρα ὄντα ἐν τούτοις τοῖς πολλοῖς τέτταρ’ ἄττα ῥεύματα, ὦν τὸ μὲν μέγιϛον και ἐξωτάτω ῥέον περί κύκλῳ, ὁ καλούμενος Ὠκεανός ἐϛι. i.e. ‘There are many other both great and all-various rivers, but principally four; the greatest and last of which, flowing round the earth in a circle, is called the ocean.’

I only add that this expression is perfectly philosophical, as will be evident from considering the ever-flowing condition of the ocean, by means of which it admirably corresponds with the nature of a stream. Homer indeed was so sensible of this truth, that he generally (if not always) speaks of the ocean in this manner; and there is no doubt, but he derived his conviction from the first and most profound philosophy in the world. After this the expression, a blameless tide of abundance is objected to. But if the epithet blameless may be applied to abundance, which it is in the original; (ἠδ’ ὄλβον ἀμεμφῆ) and if a tide of wealth, is an usual expression, I see no reason why abundance, when conferred with moderation, may not be said to be poured in a blameless tide. The objections to the translations of (θνητῶν ϛήριγμα) ‘basis of mankind,’ and the first part of the hymn to Protogonus, are too contemptible to deserve any reply. This too would be the case with the epithet ‘Bacchic King,’ which is literally translated from the Greek; (Βακχεῖον ἄνακτα) but very fortunately these sagacious critics have employed a correspondent expression, in their Review of Wharton’s Milton: for in page 1. they speak of the Miltonic muse, which I presume must fall under the same imputation of impropriety, and want of beauty with Bacchic king. I shall only adduce one instance more, and then proceed to take notice of the pride of these uncandid and ignorant censors. In the hymn to Boreas, that deity is requested to dissolve the all-misty station of the air:

Which I have accordingly translated,

And I must confess, that as I cannot find the least impropriety in speaking of the air as being in a misty station, I must conclude that this was exactly the station of the Reviewers, at the time when they composed the present criticism; the whole of which appears to have been the result of misty visions, clouded conceptions, and uncertain conjectures.

Let us now proceed to a review of their pride. In the first place then, they very pompously inform us of their natural gravity as follows: ‘Grave though we be, our own risibility has been provoked,’ &c. As if it was of any consequence to the public, whether they are grave or facetious, solemn or ludicrous, sanguine or bilious: whether they possess the qualities of the owl, or the ape; and whether they laugh like the tickled Hyæna, or like Milton’s death ‘grin horribly a ghastly smile.’ In the next place, after having praised my paraphrase of Plotinus on the Beautiful, they add: ‘this praise ought to convince Mr. Taylor, that we are neither insensible to the real value of his author’s work, nor blind to the merits of the translation’. As if the praise of a Reviewer could be of any importance to a man, whose writings, are not calculated for the multitude: or as if the censure of ignorant judges, was not preferable to their most unbounded approbation! I only add that from men who are critics by profession on the writings of others, the most perfect composition may be justly expected: and yet the Monthly Reviewers have grosly failed in this respect, as the following instances will evince: Polybius makes use of the expression, νεύειν πρὸς ἔνα καὶ τὸν αὐτόν σκοπόν, i.e. ‘to verge to one and the same end:’ and this our admirable critics translate (p. 122.) ‘to verge to one point, and conspire to one end:’ which is obviously a most ridiculous tautology. For it is impossible that any thing can verge to one point, and at the same time conspire to an end, different from that point. Again, in their review of Bell’s Shakespeare, (p. 156.) they make use of the following simile: ‘Shakespeare, now stands (among the French) as a Colossus, while the most that can be done by Voltaire, and indeed the very best of our modern writers at home, is to creep under his feet.’ But here we may very justly enquire, what similitude there is between modern wits endeavouring to imitate Shakespeare, considered as a dramatic writer, and men crawling under his feet, considered as a Colossus? If Shakespeare indeed had been a quadruped, men by creeping under his feet might be considered as his groveling imitators: but I cannot conceive any similitude between a creeping, and an upright figure. I only add, that the Analytical Reviewers, are not more fortunate in their review of my translation of Proclus. For after asserting that the original is not remarkable for its elegance (though the contrary is the opinion of the best ancient and modern writers) and that I have too faithfully copied my author in this respect, they inform us, among other interesting particulars, ‘that the employment of an ancient philosopher did not consist in relieving the distresses of the wretched, and the wants of the miserable!’ After such a specimen of tautology, we cannot wonder that Proclus is considered as an inelegant writer: for though his language is always overflowing and majestic, it never degenerates into weak and needless repetition. While on the other hand, there is such a perfect sameness, in the above sentence, that, ‘to relieve the distresses of the wretched, and the wants of the miserable,’ is indeed no other, than ‘to verge to one point, and conspire to one end!’

And thus much for the Reviewers, whom in any other cause than that of verbal criticism, I should consider as too mean for censure, and even too insignificant for contempt. For what attention can those writers deserve, who decide dogmatically on subjects they have never studied; who endeavour by malevolent aspersions to ruin the reputation of men they have never seen; and who abuse the credulity of the ignorant, by a monthly compilation of criticisms, which originate from vanity, and ultimately tend to illiberal gain?

THE END.

FOOTNOTES: