Plutarch, Comparing translations

I've been a bit curious to compare the available translations of Plutarch. I did make a snarky comment about the rendering of the verse in the 'Dryden' translation in my earlier post. So is the 'Dryden' better or worse? This is a subject that may not be all that interesting, but I've written this post and you've been warned...

I'm now about halfway through, and my already beat-up looking edition
 is looking even more beat-up than it was in this photo...

The whole of Plutarch's Lives has been translated into English several times, but I believe the most recent (1914-1926) complete one is by Bernadotte Perrin for the Loeb series. I've been reading Arthur Hugh Clough's revision of the 'Dryden' translation (1683-6, Clough's revision 1864) because that's the one I have. John Dryden, it seems, had not much to do with it. In addition to the 'Dryden', Project Gutenberg has the Stewart and Long (1880-1882). Parts of this had been done by the time Clough was organizing his version; he thinks highly of what he'd seen at that point; says he wouldn't have bothered revising the 'Dryden' if Long (who began it) had planned at that time on continuing.

The Langhorne brothers' translation of Plutarch (1770-1772) seems to be generally panned, including by Clough, but it's available at the Internet Archive; and then there's the famous English translation of Sir Thomas North, famous for being plundered by Shakespeare. It's translated not from the Greek, but from the French of Jacques Amyot. The final edition of North dates from 1603.

Here are several examples of a passage from The Life of Alcibiades. At this point Alcibiades has set off with the Athenian expedition to conquer Sicily; he was widely viewed as the instigator of the expedition, and also the only one who could pull it off. But as he leaves, there's a cloud hanging over him: in the days before the expedition set sail, some group of youths ran around town defacing (or de-penis-ing, really) the sacred statues of Hermes in Athens. It was suggested around Athens Alcibiades was involved. Already in Sicily, he's summoned back to Athens to face charges of sacrilege, conviction for which warrants the death sentence.

Here's the one I read (Dryden/Clough):

"When he arrived at Thurii, he went on shore, and concealing himself there, escaped those who searched after him. But to one who knew him, and asked him if he durst not trust his own native country, he made answer, 'In everything else, yes; but in a matter that touches my life, I would not even my own mother, lest she might by mistake throw in the black ball instead of the white.' When, afterwards, he was told that the assembly had pronounced judgment of death against him, all he said was, 'I will make them feel that I am alive.'"

The Stewart and Long:

"At Thurii he landed, and concealed himself so he could not be found. When one of his friends said to him, 'Alkibiades, do you not trust your native country?' He answered, 'Yes, in other matters; but when my life is at stake I would not trust my own mother, for fear she might mistake a black bean for a white one.' Afterwards hearing the Athenians had condemned him to death, he said, I will show them I am still alive.'"

The Loeb (translated by Bernadotte Perrin):

"Arrived at Thurii, he left his trireme and hid himself so as to escape all quest. When some one recognized him and asked, 'Can you not trust your country, Alcibiades?' 'In all else,' he said, 'but in the matter of life I wouldn't trust even my own mother not to mistake a black for a white ballot when she cast her vote.' And when he afterwards heard that the city condemned him to death, 'I'll show them,' he said, 'that I'm alive.'"

And lastly North:

"Afterwards when he came to the city of Thurii, so soon as he landed, he went and hid himself incontinently in such sort, that such as sought for him, could not find him. Yet there was one that knew him where he was, and said: Why, how now Alcibiades, darest thou not trust the justice of thy country? Yes very well (quoth he) and it were in another matter: but my life standing upon it, I would not trust mine own mother, fearing lest negligently she should put in the black bean, where she should cast in the white. For by the first condemnation of death was signified: and by the other, pardon of life. But afterwards, hearing that the Athenians for malice had condemned him to death: Well, quoth he, they shall know I am yet alive."

The North has a certain charm, but I think I'd actually prefer to read the Stewart and Long to the Dryden/Clough that I am reading. The Perrin is closest to the Greek: appropriate since the Greek is on the facing page in a Loeb. I also looked up the Langhornes' version, but it's a little worse and not enough different to warrant quoting. Which look best to you?

I picked this passage because I'm pretty sure I read somebody somewhere (and not me) who translated that final line as 'They will feel my life.' Which I quite liked. But now I can't find it.

Plutarch, Introductory

Well, this is Plutarch, Introductory, both because it's an introduction to my reading of Plutarch, but also because I pulled all the various (mostly unread) editions of Plutarch off the shelf and read or reread their introductions to fix a certain amount of knowledge about Plutarch in my head. And then munged it all together to produce this.

Plutarch is born in Chaeronea (120 kilometers northwest of Athens) to a wealthy family about 45 AD and dies around 120 AD. Greece is subject to the Roman Empire at this time--it has been since 146 BC, though it has a fairly privileged place in the empire.

Pretty much everything we know about Plutarch comes from incidental remarks in his writings. He went to Athens when young and studied philosophy there under the Egyptian Ammonius; he was in Athens when Nero toured Greece and stopped there in 66 AD. He mentions visiting Alexandria in Egypt. Sometime around 90 AD, he goes to Rome on public business, and, as he's already a philosopher with some reputation by then, gives public lectures. He learns Latin, not very well he tells us, and I have to say, I would agree...more on that momentarily.

The various things I read disagree about how long he spent in Rome, but in any case he returns home at some point to Chaeronea. Since it's cute, and most of my sources quoted it, I will too: "As to myself, I live in a small town and am fond of staying in it, that it may not be the smaller for the absence of a single inhabitant." [Life of Demosthenes.]

Plutarch was happily married, though of their five children it seems only two boys survived to adulthood.

Only about half of what he wrote survives, but that's still quite a lot. In addition to the 1300 pages of Parallel Lives in my edition, there is also the Moralia, a series of writings on moral subjects, of about equal length. As a general rule, the Lives were written toward the end of his life, the Moralia earlier. There are 46 extant lives in the Parallel Lives, but he refers to others he'd written now lost. The concept was to pair one Roman and one Greek life, and then write a comparison; some of the comparisons for extant lives were lost, or possibly never written.  The order of the Lives as generally given is roughly chronological, beginning with the mythical figures, Theseus for the Greeks and Romulus for the Romans. It ends with Julius Caesar's assassin Marcus Brutus ("Et tu, Brute"), though there are four additional lives (the Hellenistic general Aratus, the Persian king Artaxerxes, the Roman emperors Galba and Otho) that were probably not intended as part of the Parallel Lives, but are generally included.

But the fact that the Lives are arranged chronologically betrays Plutarch's purpose: he's explicitly not writing narrative history, and he's not particularly interested in the world-historical events of any individual life; rather he's writing these biographies as studies of character for use as ethical examples. They were not written in the chronological order they're presented in. Holden, the editor of the Themistocles I have, groups them into four series. The first series is written at the request of friends; these are more historical and include, among the Roman figures, Cicero & both Catos. The second series was written for Plutarch's own satisfaction (or so he says) and in these, his approach is more explicitly ethical. He describes his methodology for these at the beginning of the Pericles. In the third series, of only two pairs, he writes of bad examples; one of those pairs is Alcibiades and Coriolanus. The last series, and seemingly the last written, are another two pairs of mythical figures, given first in my translation.

On that translation, the so-called 'Dryden' translation. I now know to call it 'so-called.' It was translated by a number of anonymous hands; Dryden's name was affixed to it to help it sell. It's unclear how much Dryden actually contributed, if any. Based on this bit of awfulness:

"The numerous nations of the Celtic foe
Bore her not living to the banks of Po;
Their heavy shields upon the maid they threw,
And with their splendid gifts entombed at once and slew." 

[Life of Romulus]

I rather hope Dryden had nothing to do with it. I'm quite sure giggling is not the reaction Plutarch wanted.

Finally on Plutarch's Latin. Now linguistics and proper etymologies are a thing simply alien to most ancients, but this is particularly poor:

"...they [Roman priests] have the name Pontifices from potens, powerful, because they attend the service of the gods, who have power to command over all...The most common opinion is the most absurd, which derives this word from pons, and assigns the priests the title of bridge-makers." [Life of Numa Pompilius]

This is simply silly. No Roman would derive pontifex (pontifices in the plural) from anything but the words pons (bridge) and facio (make or build). A bridge-builder. In fact if one is to hold the ethicist Plutarch to ethical standards, why is he insistent on changing the derivation to something from 'power'? The metaphor implied by bridge-builder, I find much more appealing than Plutarch's implied metaphor. (Or for that matter, the autocratic, controlling metaphors implied by Father or Pastor.)

Pelling, the editor the Cambridge Life of Antony, notes that Plutarch happily quotes Greek poetry, likely from memory, but he shows no sign of knowing the great Latin poets even when quoting them (in the later Roman lives) would be useful. No Vergil, no Horace, etc. Pelling suggests Plutarch could make his way through a prose text, but his Latin wasn't good enough to enjoy Roman poets and have them at his synapse-ends as he does Greek poetry.

Of course if Plutarch could cadge a ride on the TARDIS and quiz me on my Latin skills these days he wouldn't be very impressed with me either. Nevertheless I stand by it.

Well, this post is long enough as it is. I should be further in the Lives than I am, but I'm making progress.

Though I will add this quote I copied out. Don't know why it struck me now...

"Anacharsis...repressed his wonder at the fact that in Greece wise men spoke and fools decided." [Life of Solon]

Classics Club Spin #23. And the winner is...

Which is Plutarch's Lives. For the first time that durned spin machine picked the longest book on my list. I'm both looking forward to it, but also dreading it.

My beat-up edition is the Modern Library Giant, translated by Dryden and revised by Arthur Hugh Clough. I've dipped into it before, and have even read a little bit of Plutarch in Greek, (see those Plutarch Loebs in the background) though not very much. But this one's 1300 pages. One of my professors once said, quoting, I think, one of his professors, "You're not a real classicist until you've read all of Plutarch." I believe he meant, read it in Greek, but at this point I'll settle for what I can get...

And speaking of Arthur Hugh Clough...I once wrote poem about him. (Ahem!)

Just Got A Clough (or Arthur Hugh Who?)

Arthur Hugh Clough, Selected Poems, Fyfield Books.

The book arrived Fedex today;

I read the preface straight away.

I had to know just what to do

to say the name of Arthur Clough.

It didn't say--I still don't know--

how I should say Arthur Clough.

The editors at Fyfield Press

have left me in an awful mess:

enough to make me want to cough

worrying about Arthur Clough!

I know it shouldn't get to me--

so what if it's a mystery?

I'll just keep calm--no need to curse--

I will just simply read the verse:

"Thou shalt not steal; an empty feat

when 'tis so lucrative to cheat..."--

That's from The Latest Decalogue

by you know who--Arthur Clough!

Wikipedia tells me that the proper rhyme is...oh, enough!

How does your spin look? Did you get something fun?