Laudator Temporis Acti

Galen, On Avoiding Distress 14 (tr. Sophia Xenophontos):

You should thus assume that I too have become the person I am because I am by nature similar to my ancestors, and also that because I received the same education as them, I have the same qualities of soul. I know that my father used to despise human affairs as of small importance, which holds especially for me too now in my old age.

νόμιζε δὴ οὖν κἀμὲ καὶ φύσει μὲν ὅμοιον τοῖς προγόνοις ὄντα γενέσθαι τοιοῦτον, καὶ μέντοι καὶ παιδευθέντα τὴν αὐτὴν αὐτοῖς παιδείαν, ὁμοίαν ἐκείνοις σχεῖν διάθεσιν τῆς ψυχῆς. οἶδα δέ μου τὸν πατέρα καταφρονοῦντα τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων πραγμάτων ὡς μικρῶν, ὅπερ κἀμοὶ μάλιστα νῦν γέγονεν ἐν γήρᾳ.

Hat tip: Eric Thomson.

Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860), Parerga and Paralipomena, Vol. II, Chapter 17, § 191 (tr. Adrian Del Caro and Christopher Janaway):

No ancient German literature, Nibelungs and other such poets of the Middle Ages should be taught in gymnasia. These things are highly remarkable, to be sure, and also worth reading, but they do not contribute to the cultivation of taste and they rob time that belongs to ancient, really classical literature. If you noble Teutons and German patriots impose ancient German doggerel in place of Greek and Roman classics, then you will be educating nothing but unwashed loafers. Now to even compare these Nibelungs with the Iliad is an outright blasphemy, from which, above all, youthful ears should be spared.

Auf den Gymnasien sollte keine altdeutsche Litteratur, Nibelungen und sonstige Poeten des Mittelalters gelehrt werden: diese Dinge sind zwar höchst merkwürdig, auch lesenswert, tragen aber nicht zur Bildung des Geschmacks bei und rauben die Zeit, welche der alten, wirklich klassischen Litteratur angehört. Wenn ihr, edle Germanen und deutsche Patrioten, an die Stelle der griechischen und römischen Klassiker altdeutsche Reimereien setzt; so werdet ihr nichts anderes, als Bärenhäuter erziehn. Nun aber gar diese Nibelungen mit der Ilias zu vergleichen ist eine rechte Blasphemie, mit welcher die Ohren der Jugend, vor allem, verschont bleiben sollten.

Galen, On Avoiding Distress 1 (tr. Sophia Xenophontos):

[You also said] that you learned that when his books were lost in the fire, Philides the grammarian wasted away from depression and grief and died, and that various others were going around in black clothing for a long time, thin and pale, resembling mourners.

πεπύσθαι δὲ ὡς καὶ Φιλίδης μὲν ὁ γραμματικὸς ἀπολλυμένων αὐτῷ τῶν βιβλίων κατὰ πυρκαϊὰν ὑπὸ δυσθυμίας καὶ λύπης διεφθάρη συντακείς, ἄλλος δὲ καὶ ἄλλος ἐν μέλασιν ἱματίοις προῄεσαν ἄχρι πολλοῦ, λεπτοὶ καὶ ὠχροί, τοῖς πενθοῦσι παραπλήσιοι.

From Eric Thomson:

Aldous Huxley, consoling Victoria Ocampo on the partial destruction by fire of her library: “…[T]he thought of a burned library is one to sadden the heart of an old book-worm like myself.” A prolepsis. The conflagration that destroyed his own thirty-one years later was total, but he displayed a noble composure and detachment that Galen would have recognised and admired.

Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860), Parerga and Paralipomena, Vol. II, Chapter 16, § 183 (tr. Adrian Del Caro and Christopher Janaway):

All this might stem from the fact that poetry by nature is untranslatable. For in it thoughts and words are so intimately and firmly intertwined, like the uterine and foetal parts of the placenta, that we cannot substitute foreign words without affecting the thoughts. After all, everything with metre and rhyme is inherently a compromise between thought and language; however, by its nature this can only be accomplished on its own native soil of thought, not on a foreign soil in which we would like to transplant it, let alone in one so barren as the minds of translators usually are. What greater contrast could there be, really, than the free outpouring of the poet’s inspiration, which on its own and instinctively comes into being dressed in metre and rhyme, and the painstaking, calculating, cold, syllable-counting and rhyme-seeking agony of the translator?

Dies Alles mag daran liegen, daß Poesie, ihrer Natur nach, unübersetzbar ist. Denn in ihr sind Gedanken und Worte so innig und fest mit einander verwachsen, wie pars uterina et pars foetalis placentae; so daß man nicht, ohne jene zu affiziren, diesen fremde substituiren kann. Ist doch alles Metrische und Gereimte eigentlich von Hause aus ein Kompromiß zwischen dem Gedanken und der Sprache: dieses aber darf, seiner Natur nach, nur auf dem eigenen, mütterlichen Boden des Gedankens vollzogen werden, nicht auf einem fremden, dahin man ihn verpflanzen möchte, und gar auf einem so unfruchtbaren, wie die Uebersetzerköpfe in der Regel sind. Was überhaupt kann entgegengesetzter sein, als die freie Ergießung der Begeisterung eines Dichters, die schon von selbst und instinktiv in Metrum und Reim gekleidet an den Tag tritt, und die peinliche, rechnende, kalte, Silben zählende und Reime suchende Qual des Uebersetzers.

Meleager, in Greek Anthology 12.101 (tr. Margaret Hubbard):

I was unwounded by Desires, but Myiscus shot me in the heart with his eyes, and cried, 'I have caught the braggart. That supercilious sneer that imperious philosophy gave, look, I am trampling on it.' Just breathing, I replied, 'Dear lad, why all this surprise? Zeus himself was hauled down from Olympus by Love.'

τόν με Πόθοις ἄτρωτον ὑπὸ στέρνοισι Μυΐσκος
    ὄμμασι τοξεύσας, τοῦτ ̓ ἐβόησεν ἔπος·
“τὸν θρασὺν εἶλον ἐγώ· τὸ δ ̓ ἐπ ̓ ὀφρύσι κεῖνο φρύαγμα
    σκηπτροφόρου σοφίας ἠνίδε ποσσὶ πατῶ.” τῷ δ ̓, ὅσον
ἀμπνεύσας, τόδ ̓ ἔφην· “Φίλε κοῦρε, τί θαμβεῖς;
    καὐτὸν ἀπ ̓ Οὐλύμπου Ζῆνα καθεῖλεν Ἔρως.”

A.S.F. Gow and D.L. Page ad loc.: Propertius 1.1.1-4 (tr. Margaret Hubbard):

Cynthia was the first whose eyes captured me, poor wretch, uninfected before by any desires. Then I had to lower my gaze with its steady hauteur and Love trampled on my head...

Cynthia prima suis miserum me cepit ocellis,
    contactum nullis ante cupidinibus.
tum mihi constantis deiecit lumina fastus
    et caput impositis pressit Amor pedibus...

Patrick Kurp, "You Want to Be Immortal? Disappear," Anecdotal Evidence (August 3, 2-26):

What has disappeared? Ambrose Bierce, Weldon Kees, Jimmy Hoffa. Aristotle s second book of Politics, three-decker novels, rhupunts. Typewriters, payphones, civility.

Perhaps he meant Poetics instead of Politics.

Hat tip: Eric Thomson.

Labels: typographical and other errors

Bookshelves in Casa d'Areny-Plandolit Museum, Andorra: Thanks to Eric Thomson for the photographs.

Cicero, On Old Age 5.15 (tr. William Armistead Falconer):

And, indeed, when I reflect on this subject I find four reasons why old age appears to be unhappy: first, that it withdraws us from active pursuits; second, that it makes the body weaker; third, that it deprives us of almost all physical pleasures; and, fourth, that it is not far removed from death.

etenim, cum complector animo, quattuor reperio causas cur senectus misera videatur: unam, quod avocet a rebus gerendis; alteram, quod corpus faciat infirmius; tertiam, quod privet omnibus fere voluptatibus; quartam, quod haud procul absit a morte.

J.G.F. Powell ad loc. (the heading VI 15 is an error — it should be V 15):

Donald Lateiner, review of James H. Dee, Epitheta hominum apud Homerum = The epithetic phrases for the Homeric heroes: a repertory of descriptive expressions for the human characters of the Iliad and the Odyssey (Hildesheim: Olms-Weidmann, 2000), in Bryn Mawr Classical Review 2001.01.14:

To my mind, it is a miracle that in a world afflicted by Attention Deficit Disorder anyone would labor over, publish, distribute, or purchase six hundred pages dissecting descriptors in two lengthy, three thousand year old poems that barely ten thousand human beings can read in their eclectic, original idiolect, one never spoken by a single soul.

John Cowper Powys (1872-1963), Autobiography (London: The Bodley Head, 1934), pp. 85-86:

A longing for a lair, for a cave, for a fortress, for any hidden domain, which cannot be disturbed, is still deep in my nature. It is doubtless for this reason that I have always wanted to live in narrow quarters, a little house in the country or in a single room in the city, and I have a positive detestation of large houses. This feeling of being safe and snug in a hidden retreat, while the world passes by outside and cannot reach you, is very dear to me. I have always loved that passage in Scott’s poem about the hunted stag:

"There, close-couched, while the thickets shed
Cold dews and wild flowers on his head,
He heard the baffled dogs in vain
Rave through the hollow pass amain
Chiding the rocks …"

Hat tip: Eric Thomson.

Homer, Odyssey 8.111-119 (tr. Daniel Mendelsohn):

Up went Akróneôs Top-Ship, Okýalos Quick-Sea, the Paddler,
Sea-Man Nauteús and Aft-Deck, Beach-Man, Eretmeús the Rower,
Deep-Sea Ponteús and Fore-Deck, Full-Speed and All-Aboard,
And Amphíalos Sea-Girt, the son of Many-Ships, child of Sea-Wright;
Up stood Eurýalos Broad-Sea, the equal of Ares, that plague on mortals—
The son of Naúbolos the Sounder, who in looks and physique surpassed
All of the other Phaiêkians after handsome Laodámas.
There arose as well three children of handsome Alkínoös:
Laodámas and Hálios Sea-Lad, and godlike Klytónêos Ship-Fame.

ὦρτο μὲν Ἀκρόνεώς τε καὶ Ὠκύαλος καὶ Ἐλατρεύς,
Ναυτεύς τε Πρυμνεύς τε καὶ Ἀγχίαλος καὶ Ἐρετμεύς,
Ποντεύς τε Πρωρεύς τε, Θόων Ἀναβησίνεώς τε
Ἀμφίαλός θ᾽, υἱὸς Πολυνήου Τεκτονίδαο·
ἂν δὲ καὶ Εὐρύαλος, βροτολοιγῷ ἶσος Ἄρηϊ,        115
Ναυβολίδης, ὃς ἄριστος ἔην εἶδός τε δέμας τε
πάντων Φαιήκων μετ᾽ ἀμύμονα Λαοδάμαντα.
ἂν δ᾽ ἔσταν τρεῖς παῖδες ἀμύμονος Ἀλκινόοιο,
Λαοδάμας θ᾽ Ἅλιός τε καὶ ἀντίθεος Κλυτόνηος.

Yes, the Phaeacians were a seafaring folk, and yes, most of the names in this passage are redende Namen, significant names. But I cannot help regarding Mendelsohn's translation here as grotesque, freakish, and extremely distracting. To my mind, the proper way to indicate the meaning of the names would be in the Introduction, or the Notes and Commentary, or the Glossary of Proper Nouns, not in this outlandish manner.

In addition, the treatment of some names is inconsistent — Εὐρύαλος, for example, appears as both "Eurýalos Broad-Sea" here and in line 140, but simply as "Eurýalos" in line 158.

I'm aware that W.H.D. Rouse and Robert Fitzgerald did something similar.

W.H.D. Rouse:

Young champions were found in plenty: Topship and Quicksea and Paddler, Seaman and Poopman, Beacher and Oarsman, Deepsea and Lookout, Goahead and Upaboard; there was Seagirt the son of Manyclipper Shipwrightson; there was Broadsea, the very spit of bloody Arês himself, and Admiraltidês, the finest man in stature and strength after the admirable Laodamas. And there were three sons of Alcinoös, Laodamas, and deep-sea Halios, and Clytoneos of naval renown.

Robert Fitzgerald:

[A]nd many a young athlete now came forward
with seaside names like Tipmast, Tiderace, Sparwood,
Hullman, Sternman, Beacher and Pullerman,
Bluewater, Shearwater, Runningwake, Boardalee,
Seabelt, son of Grandfleet Shipwrightson;
Seareach stepped up, son of the Launching Master,
rugged as Ares, bane of men: his build
excelled all but the Prince Laódamas;
and Laódamas made entry with his brothers,
Halios and Klytóneus, sons of the king.

I prefer Peter Green's straightforward translation:

Up got Akroneōs, Ōkyalos and Elatreus,
Nauteus and Prymneus, Anchialos and Eretmeus,
Ponteus and Prōreus, Thoōn and Anabēsineōs,
with Amphialos, the son of Polynēos, Tektōn's son;
up, too, Euryalos, peer of man-killing Arēs,
Naubolos’ son, the best in looks and stature—
bar only peerless Laodamas—of all the Phaiakians;
and up got the three sons of matchless Alkinoös:
Laodamas, Halios, and godlike Klytonēos.

See Hans von Kamptz, Homerische Personennamen: Sprachwissenschaftliche und historische Klassifikation (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1982), p. 28.

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