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Jorge Luis Borges

Some Versions of Homer

TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCIION

"Las versiones homericas" ("Some Versions of Homer") was first published in 1932 in Discusion, a volume of essays reflecting Borges's principal preoccupations at the time: Argentine reality, Eastern phi- losophy, and literary and rhetorical issues. Doubtlessly belonging to the last category, "Some Versions of Homer" is the first of a series of pieces that question translation's marginal status and resituate the translator's activity at the center of literary discussion. These texts include "Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote" (1939), which is one of Borges's first "ficciones" and which George Steiner, in After Babel, calls a summa of all translation theory (70). "The Trans- lators of the 1001 Nights" (1935) and "The Enigma of Edward Fitzgerald" (1952) are among other noteworthy Borgesian discus- sions of the historical paradoxes and metaphysical mysteries of translation.

"Some Versions of Homer" gives us a preview of what Emir Rod- riguez Monegal defines as Borges's theory of the "reader as writer"- demonstrated further in "Pierre Menard," "Kafka and His Precur- sors," and other meditations. Borges sees translation as a model for reading as well as for writing, and he prefigures reception theory in privileging the relation between the reader's context and the text over the now desacralized concepts of authorship and originality. Borges the reader-translator prefers Alexander Pope's version of Homer be- cause the English poet's "[s]peeches and spectacles" recall for him- as Borges's translation of Pope's translation dramatizes-the ornate grandiosity of G6ngora. In Borges's reading, the great baroque bard revives in the Spanish language the primary grandeur of the epic poem (Borges always preferred the epic to the lyrical) and of classical rhetoric.

Copyright ? 1974 by Emece Editores, S.A., Buenos Aires; copyright ? 1988, 1989, 1991 by Emece Editores and Maria Kodama, Executrix of the Estate of Jorge Luis Borges. All rights reserved. By arrangement with Emece Editores and the Estate of Jorge Luis Borges.

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Jorge Luis Borges

Homer has long been a seminal topic in the history of translation studies. But why, aside from Borges's subversive drive to demythify canonical subjects, did this Argentine Anglophile choose to focus a translation discussion on Homer in English? As one who questioned the sacred cow of authorship, he certainly found a prime example in the age-old controversy over Homer's problematic identity. But Borges's love for sea epics also played a role, and hence he chose to translate samples from the British Isles since English literature, from "The Seafarer" to Joyce's Ulysses, has displayed a profound affinity with the Greek saga. Mentioning "The Seafarer" leads us to another translator much admired by Borges, Ezra Pound. One might say that Borges adheres to the Poundian spirit of translation; despite his remote connection to the original language of the text, he captures an essence in his mannered translations, and through Pope (via G6ngora), Borges (following Pound's injunction) makes the old new.

Another question we might ask is why Borges did not use existing Spanish translations or, rather, whether this piece was perhaps an excuse for him to give a virtuoso performance of different styles and eras of Homer. In 1929 Borges translated the last page of Ulysses, giving a breathtaking rendering of Molly Bloom's final breathless words. One need only compare that brief exercise with the corre- sponding translations by fellow scribes from the Iberian peninsula (including the "authorized" version by Jose Maria Valverde): Borges's excerpt is infinitely more playful and musical. Borges is Joyce in that text, just as Borges (is Pope) is Homer in the modest "Some Versions of Homer."

Suzanne Jill Levine University of California, Santa Barbara

Works Cited Rodriguez Monegal, Emir. "Borges: The Reader as Writer." Triquarterly 25 (1972):

102-43. Steiner, George. After Babel: Aspects of Language and Translation. New York: Oxford

UP, 1975.

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Some Versions of Homer

N ?O PROBLEM is more essential to lit- erature and its small mysteries than

translation. A lapse of memory spurred by vanity, the fear of divulging mental processes that we can guess to be perilously pedestrian, the attempt to maintain an incalculable reserve of mystery- all cast a veil over the alleged original. Transla- tion, in contrast, seems destined to illustrate aes- thetic debates. The model to be imitated is a visible text, and the translator is not free to follow the unfathomable labyrinths of past projects or to accept the sudden temptation of an easy so- lution. Bertrand Russell defined an external ob- ject as a circular system radiating many possible impressions. Given the incalculable repercussions of words, the same could be said about a text, whose translations become a partial and precious document of the changes it inevitably suffers. What are the many renderings of the Iliad-from Chapman's to Magnien's-if not different per- spectives of a mutable fact, if not a long experi- mental lottery of omissions and emphases? (Changing languages is not necessary for this de- liberate juggling of interpretations, which can oc- cur within a single literature.) To assume that all recombinations of elements are necessarily in- ferior to their original form is to assume that draft 9 is necessarily inferior to draft H-since every text is a draft. The notion of a "definitive text" belongs to religion or perhaps merely to exhaustion.

Our superstition that translations are infe- rior-reinforced by the age-old Italian adage tra- duttore traditore-is the result of our naivete: all great works that we turn to time and again seem unalterable and definitive. Hume identified our habitual idea of causality with the experience of temporal succession. Thus a good film seen a second time seems even better; we tend to take repetitions for absolutes. Our first reading of fa- mous books is really the second, since we already know them. The cliche "rereading the classics" turns out to be an unwitting truth. But how can we know now whether the statement "In a place of La Mancha, whose name I don't care to re- member, there lived not long ago a nobleman who kept a lance and shield, a greyhound, and a

skinny old nag" actually proceeded from divine inspiration? I only know that any modifications would be sacrilegious and that I could not con- ceive of another beginning for Don Quixote. Cer- vantes, however, probably dispensed with such a frivolous superstition and may not have recog- nized this paragraph. I, in contrast, can only reject any divergence. Since Spanish is my native lan- guage, the Quixote is to me an unchanging mon- ument, with no possible variations except those furnished by the editor, the bookbinder, and the compositor. But the Odyssey, thanks to my op- portune ignorance of Greek, is a library of works in prose and verse, from Chapman's couplets to Andrew Lang's "authorized version" or from Berard's classic French drama and Morris's lively saga to Samuel Butler's ironic bourgeois novel. I mention mostly English names because English writers have always gravitated toward this epic of the sea, and their many versions of the Odyssey would be enough to illustrate the history of their literature. But the rich and even contradictory variety of this library is not attributable solely to the evolution of the English language, to the orig- inal's grand proportions, or to the deviations and diverse capacities of the translators. The main cause is the impossibility of knowing what be- longed to the poet and what belonged to the lan- guage. To this fortunate impossibility we owe so many possible versions, all of them sincere, gen- uine, and divergent.

I do not know of a more controversial issue than the Homeric adjectives. Recurrent expres- sions such as "the divine Patroclus," "the nour- ishing earth," "the wine-dark sea," "the uncloven-hoofed horses," "the moist ways," "the dark blood," "the dear knees" stir our hearts at unexpected moments. At one point, there is mention of "rich noblemen who drink of the black waters of the Aesopos"; at another, a tragic king who, "unhappy in lovely Thebes, governed the Cadmeans by the gods' fatal decree." Alex- ander Pope, whose lavish translation we shall scrutinize later, believed that all these immutable epithets were liturgical in character. Remy de Gourmont, in his long essay on style, writes that though they must have been enchanting at one time, they are no longer so. I, however, suspect that these standard epithets were what preposi-

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Jorge Luis Borges

tions still are today: modest and obligatory sounds used to join certain words and on which no orig- inality can be exercised. We know, for example, that the correct way to get somewhere is on foot and not with foot, just as the blind bard knew that the adjective to describe Patroclus was "di- vine." Neither usage is motivated by aesthetic reasons. I offer these conjectures with humble so- briety: our only certainty is that we cannot sep- arate what belongs to the author from what belongs to the language. When we read in the seventeenth-century playwright Agustin Moreto (if we must read Agustin Moreto) the phrase "Pues en casa tan compuestas / ,Que hacen todo el santo dia?" 'What do these prim ladies do at home the whole damn day?' we know that the day's unholiness belongs to the language and not to the writer. Where Homer's accents lie, how- ever, we can never know.

For a lyrical or elegiac poet, this uncertainty of ours regarding authorial intentions could be devastating, but not so for the conscientious nar- rator of vast plots. The deeds of the Iliad and the Odyssey more than survive, even though Achilles and Ulysses have disappeared, as have what Homer had in mind by choosing them and what he really thought of them. The present state of his works resembles a complex equation that de- lineates precise relations among unknown quan- tities. What a treasure trove for the translator! Browning's most famous poem, The Ring and the Book, consists of ten detailed accounts of a single crime, given by each of those involved. The work's variety derives entirely from the charac- ters, not from the actions, and offers contrasts almost as intense and unfathomable as those among ten just versions of Homer.

The magnificent Newman-Arnold debate (1861-62), more significant than either of its par- ticipants, laboriously depicted the two main ways to translate. Newman defended the literal reten- tion of all verbal singularities; Arnold argued for the literary, severe elimination of details that would distract or detain the reader and for the subordination of the ever-unpredictable Homer in each line to the essential or conventional Homer, whose forthright syntax flows and whose ideas are noble yet plain. Arnold's method pro-

vides the harmonious pleasures of uniformity; Newman's, continual little surprises.

Let us consider the various destinies of a single passage from Homer, concerning Achilles's son Neoptolemus. Ulysses relays the events to the ghost of Achilles in the city of the Cimmerians, on the night without end (Odyssey 11). Buckley's literal version goes like this:

But when we had sacked the lofty city of Priam, having his share and excellent reward, he embarked unhurt on a ship, neither stricken with the sharp brass, nor wounded hand to hand, as oftentimes happens in war; for Mars confusedly raves.'

Here is another literal as well as archaic ren- dition, by Butcher and Lang:

But after we had sacked the steep city of Priam, he embarked unscathed with his share of the spoil, and with a noble prize; he was not smitten with the sharp spear, and got no wound in close fight: and many such chances there be in war, for Ares rageth confusedly.2

Cowper, in 1791:

At length when we had sack'd the lofty town Of Priam, laden with abundant spoils He safe embark'd, neither by spear or shaft Aught hurt, or in close fight by faulchion's edge As oft in war befalls, where wounds are dealt Promiscuous, at the will of fiery Mars.3

Pope's 1725 version:

And when the Gods our arms with conquest crown'd,

When Troy's proud bulwarks smok'd upon the ground,

Greece to reward her soldier's gallant toils Heap'd high his navy with unnumber'd spoils.

Thus great in glory from the din of war Safe he return'd, without one hostile scar; Tho' spears in iron tempests rain'd around, Yet innocent they play'd, and guiltless of a

wound.4

George Chapman, in 1614:

In the event, High Troy depopulate, he made ascent To his fair ship, with prise and treasure store

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Some Versions of Homer

Safe; and no touch away with him he bore Of far-off-hurl'd lance, or of close-fought

sword, Whose wounds for favours war doth oft afford, Which he (though sought) miss'd in war's

closest wage. In close fights Mars doth never fight, but rage.5

And finally Butler's 1900 version:

Yet when we had sacked the city of Priam he got his handsome share of the prize money and went on board (such is the fortune of war) without a wound upon him, neither from a thrown spear nor in close combat, for the rage of Mars is a matter of great chance.6

The first two-the literal versions-could move us for a variety of reasons: the reverential reference to the sacking of the city; the naive statement that one gets hurt in war; the infinite disorders of combat suddenly embodied in a sin- gle, raging god. Other, lesser pleasures are also at work: in one of the texts I have reproduced, the charming pleonasm "embarked on a ship" and, in the other, the unnecessary conjunction in "and many such chances there be in war." The third version, Cowper's, is the most innocuous of all since it is completely literal, as far as Miltonic verse permits.

Pope's rendering is extraordinary. His luxu- riant language (like G6ngora's) can be distin- guished by its persistent and excessive use of superlatives. For example, the hero's lone black ship becomes a fleet. Continuously subjected to this law of amplification, all the lines of Pope's text fall into two grand categories: undiluted or- atory, as in "And when the Gods our arms with conquest crown'd," or visual representation, as in "When Troy's proud bulwarks smok'd upon the ground." Speeches and spectacles: this is Pope. Chapman's fiery version is also spectacular, but his mode is lyrical, not oratorical. Butler, in contrast, reveals his determination to evade all opportunities for the visual and to turn Homer's text into a sober series of news items.

Which of these many translations is faithful? the reader might ask. I repeat: none or all of them. If fidelity implies conveying Homer's inventions and the bygone people and days that the poet

portrayed, none of the versions can succeed for us but all would for a tenth-century Greek. If fidelity means preserving the effects Homer in- tended, any one of the above might serve, except for the literal ones, whose virtue lies in their de- parture from current poetic practices. It is not out of the question, then, that Butler's sedate ver- sion could be the most faithful.

Translator's Notes

'Borges provides only his Spanish translations of this excerpt and the following ones. He seeks archaic effects in rendering Buckley, with "hubimos," for example: "Pero cuando hubimos saqueado la alta ciudad de Priamo, teniendo su porci6n y premio excelente, inc6olume se embarc6 en una nave, ni mal- trecho por el bronce filoso ni herido al combatir cuerpo a cuerpo, como es tan comuin en la guerra; porque Marte con- fusamente delira."

2Borges again inscribes the archaic, particularly in his choice of vocabulary: "Pero la escarpada ciudad de Priamo una vez saqueada, se embarc6 ileso con su parte del despojo y con un noble premio; no fue destruido por las lanzas agudas ni tuvo heridas en el apretado combate: y muchos tales riesgos hay en la guerra, porque Ares se enloquece confusamente."

3Borges's version: "Al fin, luego que saqueamos la levantada villa de Priamo, cargado de abundantes despojos seguro se embarc6, ni de lanza o venablo en nada ofendido, ni en la refriega por el filo de los alfanjes, como en la guerra suele acontecer, donde son repartidas las heridas promiscuamente, segun la voluntad del fogoso Marte."

4Borges displays syntactic inversions and hyperboles worthy of G6ngora in this rendition: "Cuando los dioses coronaron de conquista las armas, cuando los soberbios muros de Troya humearon por tierra, Grecia, para recompensar las gallardas fatigas de su soldado, colm6 su armada de incontables des- pojos. Asi, grande de gloria, volvi6 seguro del estruendo mar- cial, sin una cicatriz hostil, y aunque las lanzas arreciaron en torno en tormentas de hierro, su vano juego fue inocente de heridas."

5Borges strikes a lyrical note for Chapman, Pound's favorite: "Despoblada Troya la alta, ascendi6 a su hermoso navio, con grande acopio de presa y de tesoro, seguro y sin llevar ni un rastro de lanza que se arroja de lejos o de apretada espada, cuyas heridas son favores que concede la guerra, que el (aunque solicitado) no hallo6. En las apretadas batallas, Marte no suele contender: se enloquece."

6Borges creates a prosaic contrast here: "Una vez ocupada la ciudad, el pudo cobrar y embarcar su parte de los beneficios habidos, que era una fuerte suma. Sali6 sin un rasgunio de toda esa peligrosa campania. Ya se sabe: todo esta en tener suerte."

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