custom of engaging at a distance, he armed with breast-plates both them and their horses, and gave every one a javelin in his hand, which they might use in a close battle; but now, they neither engage at a distance nor at hand. The foot have yet shields and small swords, or cutlasses, as in Cyrus' time, but they will not venture to come to an engagement. Neither are the chariots of that use Cyrus designed them: for he had made brave and skilful drivers, by bestowing rewards and honours on them who would fall on the heavy-armed part of an army. The Persians now, scarcely knowing who are in the chariots, imagine that such as are unexercised in driving understand it as well as those that have practised it: they do indeed make an attack; but before they can break ininto the enemy's ranks some of their own accord fall off, others jump down and get away; so that the chariots, being without any guides, frequently do more injury to their friends than to their enemies. Since they themselves have been sensible how much they are defective in martial affairs, they yield to others, and none of them engage in a war without the help of the Greeks, whether it be a domestic quarrel or with the Greeks themselves; for they cannot engage in a war with the Greeks without the assistance of Greeks. Now I think I have executed what I undertook; for I say it is evident that the Persians and their allies have less piety towards the gods, less duty and regard to their relations, are less just and equitable in their dealings with others, more effeminate, and less fitted for war than they were in their first institution. If any one thinks differently, let him consider their actions, and he will find them confirm what I say. PREFACE. THERE is not, possibly, a more difficult, a more discouraging, or a more useful task than that of a translator; when I say this, I mean one who writes a translation, not a paraphrase, under which name most modern performances of this kind ought to be comprehended. It was very judiciously observed by Mr Pope, in the preface to his incomparable translation of the Iliad, that there have not been more men misled in former times by a servile dull adherence to the letter, than have been deluded in ours by a chimerical insolent hope of raising and improving their author. If these liberties are not to be allowed in translating poets, much less ought they to be indulged in translating historians. These paraphrasts, it seems, are men of too exalted a genius to stoop to a literal translation; they must improve their author, by adding something which he ignorantly omitted, or by omitting something which he thought material; by this means, the readers, who cannot compare the translation with the original (for whose use chiefly translations are intended) have either some wretched modern interpolation imposed on them for the thoughts of an ancient, or lose some of the author's thoughts, which the title of a translation gave them a right to. But these gentlemen have another reason for paraphrasing, instead of translating, if they will own it; they find less difficulty in clothing modern thoughts in a modern dress, than in making those of an ancient appear gracefully in a language so very different from that in which they were conceived: for it is a work of greater difficulty, than those, who have not experienced it, can possibly imagine, to give an appearance of novelty to antiquity, to give light to those things, which the ignorance of ancient customs and manners has rendered obscure, to give beauty to those that are obsolete, to give credibility to those that are doubtful, and above all, to give to a copy the air of an original. Yet all these, however difficult, belong to the province of a translator; these are embellishments, which he is to acquire, if he can; but his first duty is fidelity to his author: without that, his performance is not what it professes to be, and, in that case, these embellishments, like royal robes upon the back of an impostor, are rather a mockery than an ornament. If to the most exact fidelity a translator joins beauty of language, strength of expression, and, above all, perspicuity; and if, with these, he has genius enough to animate his translation with the spirit of his original, he then performs every duty belonging to his profession. I am far from thinking that my translation of Xenophon has all these perfections; on the contrary, I am sensible that it is in this, as in most other things, much easier to point out a duty, than to fulfil it. But I should be very much wanting in that respect which every author owes to the public, if I did not assure them, that no endeavours, no application, no labour, has been spared to render this translation fit to be laid before them. If the difficulties a translator meets with are considerable, the discouragements he labours under are no less so. The great number of anonymous translations, the great number of translations of translations, for which we in England are famous; but, above all, some very unfortunate versions of lives from the Greek into our language, to which the names of authors justly admired for every other kind of writing are prefixed, show the small account the world has reason to make of translations, as well as the difficulty of succeeding in them. These considerations, I say, are powerful discouragements to the undertaking any thing of this kind; but, if these are not sufficient to deter, let it be considered how unjust a way of thinking prevails with most readers; if there is any merit in the performance, it is placed to the account of the author; and if any fault, to that of the translator. Yet it should seem that translations might deserve more indulgence, when it is considered how many persons of great parts, who happen to be unacquainted with the learned languages, particularly with Greek, would, without that assistance, be deprived of the satisfaction and improvement of reading ancient histories written by ancient authors; for, I dare say, those, who are conversant with both, will allow that those histories are generally so much disfigured and distorted by modern relators, as scarce to be known: an instance of this we see in our countryman Sir Walter Raleigh, who has, in my opinion, treated ancient history with more strength and dignity than any modern writer of any other nation, and yet, let his account of the battle of Canna, though a military subject, and therefore particularly within his province; let his account, I say, of that battle be compared with the relation given of it by Polybius, from whom he took it, and what I have advanced will plainly appear. When I say this, I do not mean to insinuate that Sir Walter Raleigh was inferior, either as a soldier or a scholar, to Polybius; for I am thoroughly convinced of his great abilities, his fate alone is a proof of them: the only disadvantage he lay under, was in being less acquainted with the manners, customs, and discipline of the two contending nations at Cannæ; so that I am confident, whoever reads the two relations of that battle, will agree with me that a close translation of the account given of it by Polybius, would have been much more satisfactory and instructive, to those who cannot read the original. The reader will observe that I have, in the course of my notes, principally taken notice of three translations, that of Leunclavius, of Hutchinson, and of D'Ablancourt; there is, besides, an Italian translation of the Expedition of Cyrus by Gandini, which I have occasionally consulted; but, as in cases of difficulty I found no assistance from thence, and, as I thought a criticism upon a translation in a third language would encumber the Notes, I have chosen to take no notice of it. I am also sensible there is a Latin translation of this history by Stephens, which I have mentioned as occasion required. But I cannot part with this subject without taking particular notice of Mr Hutchinson's edition of the Expedition of Cyrus, which I look upon to be the best edited book in the world, except the Cyropædia published by the same author: if I have sometimes differed from him, I hope it will be thought I have supported my opinion in such a manner that he will have no just reason to find fault with me. I have observed the same conduct with regard to D'Ablancourt, the looseness of whose translation I have been frequently obliged to condemn; on the other side, it will be allowed that I have often commended him; though I cannot carry my commendations of him so far as his countryman Menage, who says that D'Ablancourt has surpassed even Xenophon himself in the elegance of his style. Another celebrated French critic, Balzac, says, that D'Ablancourt's translation of Xenophon would be incomparable, if he had placed nothing before it, but that his preface is so fine, that it obscures the finest things that can be compared to it; he adds that, if it were possible for D'Ablancourt to have lived in the time of Cyrus the Younger, and for Xenophon to be now alive, the prefaces of D'Ablancourt would deserve to be |