not--a close
acquaintance with the original, and a fine appreciation of its
superlative beauties. From the point of view now generally adopted, the
task even of criticism requires this double qualification. Not only can
no man translate Homer, but no man can even criticize a translation of
Homer without being at once a poet and a fine classical scholar. So far
as this is true, I can only apologize for speaking at all, and should be
content to refer my readers to such able guides as Mr. Matthew Arnold
and the late Professor Conington. And yet I think that something remains
to be said which has a bearing upon Pope, however little it may concern
Homer.

We--if "we" means modern writers of some classical culture--can claim to
appreciate Homer far better than the contemporaries of Pope. But our
appreciation involves a clear recognition of the vast difference
between ourselves and the ancient Greeks. We see the Homeric poems in
their true perspective through the dim vista of shadowy centuries. We
regard them as the growth of a long past stage in the historical
evolution; implying a different social order--a different ideal of
life--an archaic conception of the world and its forces, only to be
reconstructed for the imagination by help of long training and serious
study. The multiplicity of the laws imposed upon the translator is the
consequence of this perception. They amount to saying that a man must
manage to project himself into a distant period, and saturate his mind
with the corresponding modes of life. If the feat is possible at all, it
requires a great and conscious effort, and the attainment of a state of
mind which can only be preserved by constant attention. The translator
has to wear a mask which is always in danger of being rudely shattered.
Such an intellectual feat is likely to produce what, in the most obvious
sense, one would call highly artificial work. Modern classicism must be
fine-spun, and smell rather of the hothouse than the open air.
Undoubtedly some exquisite literary achievements have been accomplished
in this spirit; but they are, after all, calculated for the small circle
of cultivated minds, and many of their merits can be appreciated only by
professors qualified by special training. Most frequently we can hope
for pretty playthings, or, at best, for skilful restorations which show
learning and taste far more distinctly than a glowing imagination. But
even if an original poet can breathe some spir