which seems to be wrong. At length Baptista Pius, by aid of some
emendations of his preceptor, Philippus Beroaldus, to which he had access,
and by a laborious collation of MSS., succeeded in a great measure in
restoring the depraved text of his author to its original purity. His
edition, printed at Bologna in 1511, and the two Aldine editions,
published in 1515, under the superintendence of Nevagero, who was a much
better editor than Avancius, continued to be regarded as those of highest
authority till 1563, when Lambinus printed at Paris an edition, prepared
from the collation of five original MSS., and all the previous editions of
any note, except the first and second, which seem to have been unknown to
him. The text, as he boasts in the preface, was corrected in 800 different
places, and was accompanied by a very ample commentary. Lambinus was
succeeded by Gifanius, who was more a grammarian than an acute or tasteful
critic. He amassed together, without discrimination, the notes and
conjectures on Lucretius, of all the scholars of his own and the preceding
age. Douza, in a sot of satirical verses, accused him of having
appropriated and published in his edition, without acknowledgment, some
writings of L. Fruterius, which had been committed to him on death-bed, in
order to be printed. His chief merit lies in what relates to grammatical
interpretation, and the explanation of ancient customs, and in a more
ample collection of parallel passages than had hitherto been made. The
editions of D. Pareus, (Frankfort, 1631,) and of Nardius, (Florence,
1647,) were not better than that of Gifanius; and the Delphin edition of
Lucretius, by M. Le Fay, has long been known as the very worst of the
class to which it belongs. “Notæ ejus,” says Fabricius, “plenæ sunt
pudendis hallucinationibus.” Indeed, so much ashamed of it were his
colleagues, and those who directed this great undertaking of the Delphin
classics, that they attempted, though unsuccessfully, to suppress it.
Nearly a century and a half had elapsed, from the first publication of the
edition of Lambinus, without a tolerable new impression of Lucretius being
offered to the public, when Creech, better known as the translator of
Lucretius, printed, in 1695, a Latin edition of the poet, to whose
elucidation he had devoted his life. His study of the Epicurean system,
and intimate acquaintance with the works of Gassendi, fully qualified him
for the philosophic illustration of his favourite author. On the whole,
however, Havercamp’s edition, Leyden, 1725, is the best which has yet
appeared of Lucretius. It was prepared from the collation of twenty-five
MSS., as well as of the most ancient editions, and contained not only the
whole annotations of Creech and Lambinus, but also some notes of Isaac
Vossius, which had not previously been printed. The prefaces of the most
important editions are prefixed; and the only fault which has been found
with it is, that in his new readings the editor has sometimes injured the
harmony of the versification. Lucretius certainly can not be considered as
one of the classics who have been most fortunate in their editors and
commentators. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, he failed to
obtain the care of the most pre-eminent critics of the age, and was thus
left to the conjectures of second-rate scholars. It was his lot to be
assigned to the most ignorant and barbarous of the Delphin editors; and
his catastrophe has been completed by falling into the hands of Wakefield,
whose edition is one of the most injudicious and tasteless that ever
issued from the press. In preparing this work, which is dedicated to Mr
Fox, the editor had the use of several MSS. in the University of Cambridge
and the British Museum; and also some MS. notes of Bentley, found in a
copy of a printed edition, which originally belonged to Dr Mead. In his
preface, he expresses himself with much asperity against Mr Cumberland,
for withholding from him some other MS. notes of Bentley, which were in
his possession. It would have been fortunate for him if he had never seen
any of Bentley’s annotations, since many of his worst readings are derived
from that source. By an assiduous perusal of MSS. and the old editions, he
has restored as much of the ancient Latin orthography, as renders the
perusal of the poet irksome, though, by his own confession, he has not in
this been uniform and consistent; and he has most laboriously amassed,
particularly from Virgil, a multitude of supposed parallel passages, many
of which have little resemblance to the lines with which they are
compared. The long Latin poem, addressed to Fox, lamenting the horrors of
war, does not compensate for the very brief and unsatisfactory notices, as
to every thing that regards the life and writings of the poet, and the
previous editions of his works. The commentary is dull, beyond the
proverbial dulness of commentaries; and wherever there was a disputed or
doubtful reading, that one is generally selected, which is most tame and
unmeaning—most grating to the ear, and most foreign, both to the spirit of
the poet, and of poetry in general. I shall just select one instance from
each book, as an example of the manner in which the finest lines have been
utterly destroyed by the alteration of a single word, or even letter, and
I shall choose such passages as are familiar to every one. In his
magnificent eulogy of Epicurus, in the first book, Lucretius, in
admiration of the enlightened boldness of that philosopher, described him
as one—
“Quem neque fama Deûm, nec fulmina, nec minitanti
Murmure compressit cœlum.”
The expression _Fama Deûm_ implies, that Epicurus could not be restrained
by that imposing character, with which deep-rooted prejudice, and the
authority of fable, had invested the gods of Olympus—a thought highly
poetical, and at the same time panegyrical of the mighty mind which had
disregarded all this superstitious renown. But Wakefield, by the
alteration of a single letter, strips the passage both of its sense and
poetry—he reads,
“Quem neque _fana_ Deûm, nec fulmina, nec minitanti,”
which imports that the determined mind of Epicurus could not be controlled
by the temples of the gods, which, if it has any meaning at all, is one
most frigid and puerile. This innovation, which the editor calls, in the
note, _egregiam emendationem_, is not supported, as far as he informs us,
by the authority of any ancient MS. or edition whatever, but it was so
written on the margin of the copy of Lucretius, which had belonged to
Bentley, where it was placed, as Wakefield admits, _nude ascripta et
indefensa_. In the second book, Lucretius maintaining that absence of
splendour is no diminution of happiness, says,
“Si non aurea sunt juvenum simulacra per ædes, &c.
* * * * *
Nec citharæ reboant laqueata aurataque _tecta_.”
But Wakefield, instead of _tecta_, reads _templa_, and justifies his
reading, not on the authority of any ancient MSS., but by showing that
_templa_ is used for _tecta_ by some authors, and applied to private
dwellings! The third book commences very spiritedly with an eulogy of
Epicurus:
“E tenebris tantis tam clarum extollere lumen
Qui primus potuisti, illustrans commoda vitæ,
Te sequor, O Graiæ gentis decus!”
This sudden and beautiful apostrophe is weakened and destroyed by a change
to
“O tenebris tantis tam clarum extollere lumen.”
The lines are rendered worse by the interjection being thus twice repeated
in the course of three verses. In the fourth book, Lucretius, alluding to
the merits of his own work, says,
“Deinde, quod obscurâ de re tam lucida _pango_
Carmina, Musæo contingens cuncta lepore.”
Here the word _pango_ presents us with the image of the poet at his lyre,
pouring forth his mellifluous verses, and it has besides, in its sound,
something of the twang of a musical instrument. Wakefield, however, has
changed the word into _pando_, which reminds us only of transcription and
publication. Lucretius, in book fifth, assigns as the reason why mankind
supposed that the abode of the gods was in heaven,
“Per cœlum volvi quia nox et luna videtur,
Luna, dies, et nox, et noctis signa _serena_!”
This last word Wakefield has changed into _severa_, which greatly impairs
the beauty of the line. _Noctis signa serena_, are the stars and planets;
but if instead of these be substituted the _signa severa_, the passage
becomes tautological, for the _signa severa_ are introduced immediately
afterwards in the line
“Noctivagæque faces cœli flammæque volantes.”
I have only selected passages where Wakefield has departed from the usual
readings, without support from any ancient edition or authoritative MS.
whatever. The instances where, in a variation of the MSS. and editions, he
has chosen the worse reading, are innumerable.
The first edition of Wakefield’s Lucretius was printed at London in 1796;
the second at Glasgow, 1813, which is rendered more valuable than the
first, by a running collation in the last volume of the readings of the
_Editio Princeps_, printed at Brescia; that of Verona, 1486—Venice
1495—the Aldine edition, 1500—and the Bipontine, 1782, which places in a
very striking point of view the superiority of the _Editio Princeps_ over
those by which it was immediately succeeded. At the end of this edition,
there are published some MS. notes and emendations, taken from Bentley’s
own copy of Faber’s edition of Lucretius, in the library of the British
Museum. They are not of much consequence, and though a few of them are
doubtless improvements on Faber’s text, yet, taken as a whole, they would
injure the lines of the poet, should they be unfortunately adopted in
subsequent editions.
Eichstädt, in his recent impression, published at Leipsic, has chiefly
followed the text of Wakefield, but has occasionally deviated from it when
he thought the innovations too bold. He had the advantage of consulting
the _Editio Princeps_, which no modern editor enjoyed. He has prefixed
Wakefield’s prefaces, and a long dissertation of his own, on the Life and
Poetical Writings of Lucretius, in which he scarcely does justice to the
poetical genius of his author. The first volume, containing the text and a
very copious verbal index, was printed at Leipsic in 1801. It is intended
that the second volume should comprise the commentary, but it has not yet
been published.
There is hardly any poet more difficult to translate happily than
Lucretius. In the abstruse and jejune philosophical discussions which
occupy so large a proportion of the poem, it is hardly possible, without a
sacrifice of perspicuity, to retain the harmony of versification; and, in
the ornamental passages, the diction is so simple, pure, and melodious,
that it is an enterprize of no small difficulty to translate with fidelity
and elegance.
In consequence, perhaps, of the freedom of his philosophical, and a
misrepresentation of his moral tenets, Lucretius was longer of being
rendered into the _Italian_ language than almost any other classic. It was
near the end of the seventeenth century, before any version was executed,
when a translation into _verso sciolto_, was undertaken by Marchetti,
Professor of Mathematics and Philosophy in the University of Pisa.
Marchetti has evidently translated from the edition of Lambinus—the best
which had at that time appeared. His version, however, though completed in
the seventeenth century, was not published till 1717, three years after
his death, when it was printed, with the date of London, under the care of
a person styling himself Antinoo Rullo, with a prefatory dedication to the
great Prince Eugene, in which the editor terms it, “la più grande, e la
più bella poetic’ opera che nel passato secolo nascesse ad accrescere un
nuovo lume di gloria ad Italia.” Public opinion, both in Italy and other
countries, has confirmed that of the editor, and it is universally
admitted, that the translator has succeeded in faithfully preserving the
spirit and meaning of the Latin original, without forfeiting any of the
beauties of the Italian language. It has been said, that such was the
freedom and freshness of this performance, that unless previously informed
as to the fact, no one could distinguish whether the Latin or Italian
Lucretius was the original. Graziana, himself a celebrated poet, who had
perused it in MS., thus justly characterizes its merits, in a letter
addressed to the author:—“you have translated this poem with great
felicity and ease; unfolding its sublime and scientific materials in a
delicate style and elegant manner; and, what is still more to be admired,
your diction seldom runs into a lengthened paraphrase, and never without
the greatest judgment.” The perusal of this admirable translation was
forbidden by the inquisition, but the prohibition did not prevent a
subsequent impression of it from being printed at Lausanne, in 1761. This
edition, which is in two volumes, contains an Italian translation of
Polignac’s Anti-Lucretius, by F. Maria Ricci. The editor, Deregni, indeed
declares that he would not have ventured to publish any translation of
Lucretius, however excellent, unless accompanied by this powerful
antidote. There are prefixed to this edition historical and critical
notices; as also the preface, and the _Protesta del Traduttore_, which had
been inserted in the first edition.
Most of the _French_ translations of Lucretius are in prose. Of all sorts
of poetry, that called didactic, which consists in the detail of a regular
system, or in rational precepts, which flow from each other in a connected
train of thought, suffers least by being transfused into prose. Almost
every didactic poet, however, enriches his work with such ornaments as
spring out of his subject, though not strictly attached to it; but in no
didactic poem are these passages so numerous and so charming as in that of
Lucretius; and, accordingly, in a prose translation, while all that is
systematic or preceptive may be rendered with propriety, all that belongs
to embellishment, and which forms the principal grace of the original,
appears impertinent and misplaced. The earliest translation of Lucretius
into the French language, was by Guillaume des Autels, about the middle of
the sixteenth century. The Abbé Morolles, already mentioned as the
translator of Plautus and Terence, turned Lucretius into French prose: Of
this version there were two editions, the first of which was printed in
1650. It was addressed to Christina, Queen of Sweden; and, as the author
had been very liberal to this princess in compliment, he hoped she would
be equally liberal in reward; but he was much deceived, and of this
disappointment he bitterly complains in his Memoirs. Of this translation,
Goujet remarks, that one is constantly obliged to have recourse to the
Latin text, in order to comprehend its meaning(613). It was a good deal
amended, however, in the second edition, 1659, under circumstances of
which the author introduces an account in the list of his works subjoined
to his translation of Virgil. Gassendi, who had profoundly studied the
system of Epicurus and Lucretius, having procured a copy of Marolles’
first edition, he sent a few days before his death for the author, and
pointed out to him, with his own hand, those passages in which he thought
his translation defective, and also supplied him with a number of notes in
illustration of the poet. The Abbé was thus provided with ample materials
for the improvement of his work, and so pleased was he with his second
edition, that he got a prohibition against reprinting the first introduced
into the _Privilége_ of the second. He inserted in it a _Discours
Apologetique_, defending the translating and reading of Lucretius, and
prefixed a dedication to M. Lamoignon, President of the Parliament, whom
he now substituted for Queen Christina. Moliere having seen the first
edition of Marolles’ prose translation, was thereby induced to render
Lucretius into French verse. His original intention was to have versified
the whole poem, but he afterwards confined his rhymes to the more
decorative parts, and delivered the rest in plain prose. As he proceeded
with his version, he uniformly rehearsed it both to Chapelle and Rohaut,
who jointly testified their approbation of the performance. But it was
destined to perish when brought very near its completion. A valet of the
translator, who had charge of his dress-wig, being in want of paper to put
it into curl, laid hold of a loose sheet of the version, which was
immediately rent to pieces, and thrown into the fire as soon as it had
performed its office. Moliere was one of the most irritable of the _genus
irritabile vatum_, and the accident was too provoking to be endured. He
resolved never to translate another line, and threw the whole remainder of
his version into the flames, which had thus consumed a part of it(614).
This abortive attempt of Moliere incited the Abbé Marolles to render the
whole of Lucretius into verse. He completed this task in less than four
months, and published the fruits of his labour in 1677. Rapidity of
execution, however, is the only merit of which he has to boast. His
translation is harsh, flat, and inverted; and it is also very diffuse: The
poem of Lucretius consists of 7389 lines, and the version of not less than
12338(615).
Lucretius was subsequently translated into prose by the Baron des
Coutures. His version, printed at Paris 1685, is somewhat better in point
of style than those of Marolles, but is not more faithful to the original,
being extremely paraphrastic. A Life of Lucretius, drawn up from the
materials furnished by Hubert, Gifanius, Lambinus, and other commentators,
is prefixed, and to every book is appended a small body of notes, which
shew that the author was better acquainted with his subject than Marolles.
Still, however, the poem of Lucretius was not much known in France during
the seventeenth century, either in the original or translated form.
Chaulieu, one of the most elegant and polished poets of that age, was so
little acquainted with the moral lessons which it inculcated, as to write
the following lines:—
—— “Epicure et Lucrece
M’ont appris que la Sagesse
Veut qu’au sortir d’un repas,
Ou des bras de sa maîtresse,
Content l’on aille là bas.”
At length La Grange translated Lucretius in 1768, and Le Blanc de Guillet
in 1788. Brunet speaks highly of the version of La Grange, which he seems
to think is the best in the French language, and he says that of Le Blanc
de Guillet is _peu recherché_. Mr Good, in mentioning the various
translations of Lucretius, does not allude to the production of La Grange,
but speaks highly of the version of Le Blanc de Guillet. He is sometimes,
he admits, incorrect, and still more frequently obscure: “On the whole,
however,” he continues, “it is a work of great merit, and ranks second
amid the translations of Lucretius, which have yet appeared in any
nation:” Of course, it ranges immediately next to that of Marchetti. This
version is accompanied with the Latin text in alternate pages. It is
decorated with plates, illustrated by notes, and introduced by a
comprehensive preliminary discourse, which contains a biography of the
original author, drawn up from Gifanius and Creech, and also some general
observations on the Epicurean philosophy.
The first attempt to transfer the poem of Lucretius into the _English_
language, was made by Evelyn, the celebrated author of the _Sylva_. It was
one of his earliest productions, having been printed in 1656. It was
accompanied by an appendix of notes, which show considerable acquaintance
with his subject, and there are prefixed to it complimentary letters or
verses by Waller, Fanshaw, Sir Richard Brown, and Christopher Wasse.
Evelyn commenced his arduous task with great enthusiasm, a due admiration
of his original, and anxious desire to do it full justice. On actual
trial, however, he became conscious of his own inability to produce, as he
expresses it, “any traduction to equal the elegancy of the original;” and
he accordingly closed his labours with the first book. To this resolution,
the negligent manner in which his specimen of the translation was printed,
contributed, as he alleges, in no small degree. Prefixed to the copy in
the library at Wotton, is this note in his own handwriting: “Never was
book so abominably misused by the printer; never copy so negligently
surveyed, by one who undertook to look over the proof-sheets with all
exactness and care, namely, Dr Triplet, well known for his ability, and
who pretended to oblige me in my absence, and so readily offered himself.
This good I received by it, that publishing it vainly, its ill success at
the printer’s discouraged me with troubling the world with the rest(616).”
This pretended disgust, however, at the typography of his Lucretius, was
probably a pretext. It is more likely that he was deterred from the
farther execution of his version, either by its want of success, or by the
hints which he received from some of his friends concerning the moral and
religious danger of his undertaking. “For your Lucretius,” says Jeremy
Taylor, in a letter to him, dated 16th April, 1656, “I perceive you have
suffered the importunity of your too kind friends to prevail with you. I
will not say to you that your Lucretius is as far distant from the
severity of a Christian as the fair Ethiopian was from the duty of Bishop
Heliodorus; for indeed it is nothing but what may become the labours of a
Christian gentleman, those things only abated which our evil age needs
not: for which also I hope you either have by notes, or will by preface,
prepare a sufficient antidote; but since you are engaged in it, do not
neglect to adorn it, and take what care of it it can require or need; for
that neglect will be a reproof of your own act, and look as if you did it
with an unsatisfied mind; and then you may make that to be wholly a sin,
from which, only by prudence and charity, you could before be advised to
abstain. But, sir, if you will give me leave, I will impose such a penance
upon you, for your publication of Lucretius, as shall neither displease
God nor you; and since you are busy in these things which may minister
directly to learning, and indirectly to error, or the confidences of men,
who, of themselves, are apt enough to hide their vices in irreligion, I
know you will be willing, and will suffer to be entreated, to employ the
same pen in the glorification of God, and the ministries of eucharist and
prayer(617).”