@copyright 1998 by Kristoffel Demoen, all rights reserved


Odysseus in the Low Countries.
Dutch Translational Strategies and the Western European Context,
from the Renaissance to the Present.

by Kristoffel Demoen

—Table of Contents—

1. The Low Countries and their language(s) ; a particular translational problem.

2. Survey of Dutch translations in context.

Appendix 1: incipits and nekuia passages of all 20th-century Dutch Odysseys

Appendix 2: Select Bibliography

This paper intends to place 450 years of Dutch Homer translations in their cultural and literary context, the translational practice in the surrounding cultures. It will focus mainly on the period from the Renaissance to the end of the 19th century, as in this period, the mutual interactions between the larger European literary currents seem to have been more influential on Dutch translational strategies than in the 20th century. Yet the Odysseys of the last century will be discussed briefly as a kind of epilogue.

  1. The Low Countries and their language(s) ; a particular translational problem.
Just a reminder : the term ‘the Low Countries’ refers to the Netherlands and Belgium, or rather to the Netherlands and Flanders, the Northern part of Belgium, the countries where Dutch is the standard language (see figure 1).(1) This is one and the same language ; the small differences are confined mainly to pronounciation and vocabulary — as with American and British English.

(CLICK IMAGE TO ENLARGE)

(Figure 1: Dutch in Europe, from Vandeputte O. — Vincent P. — Hermans T., Dutch. The Language of Twenty Million Dutch and Flemish People.
Rekkem 1995. © Flemish-Netherlands Foundation Stichting Ons Erfdeel, Murissonstraat 260, 8930, Rekkem, Belgium
[e-mail : erfdeel@pophost.eunet.be ])

        The Dutch linguistic and cultural community is, and has always been, a relatively small one : nowadays it counts some 20 million native speakers. It is surrounded by influential neighbours: the German culture at the east (there is a German-speaking minority in Belgium as well), the French at the south, and the English at the west, across the North Sea. For political reasons, Flanders especially has been strongly influenced by the French language and culture (as the reader will know, the Southern part of Belgium is French-speaking and its capital, Brussels, is officially bilingual). The linguistic position of Dutch reflects its geographical situation : it is a Germanic language that shares some features with English and others with German.(2)

        As it comes to translations from Greek (and from Latin), modern Dutch has a noteworthy particularity, which causes a problem unknown to English translators. Unlike the ancient languages and contemporary English, Dutch has a complex pronominal system for the second person. When addressing one person, Dutch speakers have to choose between the familiar and the polite form (as French, Spanish and Germans for instance). Besides, the archaic form ge/gij (comparable to English ‘thee’ and ‘thou’) is still commonly used in spoken Dutch, at least in Flanders, whereas in the Netherlands, it is confined to addresses of divine persons. Moreover, both the familiar and the archaic forms have variants without (je/ge) and with (jij/gij) emphasis. The system can be represented schematically as follows.
 
 

 
familiar
polite
 archaic / dialectal
  su  (you)
je jij
u
ge gij
  se  (you)
 je jou
u
u

 

Obviously, a Dutch translator faced with a Greek su or se, has to decide on the form of address that is appropriate in a particular situation: this is what is called a surplus decision or an obligatory shift.(3) The translator’s choice may influence the reader’s assessment of the book’s stylistic level. Moreover, since the Flemish and the Norhern Dutch idiom vary on this, the reception of a new translation and the ‘shelf life’ of an older one are sometimes different in Holland and in Flanders.

2. Survey of Dutch translations in context.

        Below is a kind of chronological map: it indicates all Odyssey translations in Dutch, as well as a few noteworthy Iliad translations, between square brackets. As for the English, French and German translations, no completeness is claimed, but the most important Odysseys are mentioned, as well as, here also, a few Iliads. At the bottom of the survey, one finds the explanation for the several typefaces used. For our purpose, the non-Dutch translations serve merely as background, and will be dealt with mainly when there is immediate influence on the Dutch situation.

Click to See Table of Translations
(Figure 2 : Dutch, English, French and German Odyssey translations. As yet this survey is incomplete, except for the Dutch versions.
Readers are invited to notify the author of additional information about translations and their form.)

        We will try to detect the basic translational strategy (the ‘initial norm’, as Gideon Toury has called it [4]) of all Dutch Odysseys up to 1900, and of a representative sample of newer ones. For all translations under examination, we will cite the author, the title and the translations of two short passages: the first five verses of the prologue, and an excerpt from the nekuia:the first words of Odysseus’ dialogue with Agamemnon in the Underworld: book 11, vv. 395-408. This passage was chosen because it can give some further information about the translator’s poetics.(5)

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 (Figure 3: Jan Cox [1919-1980], Odysseus and Agamemnon, acrylic on canvas, 90 x 130 cm, 1975.
© Adriaan Raemdonck, De Zwarte Panter Gallery, Antwerpen. See also below, figure 5.)

        The important phrases are underlined or asterisked, as they will be in all Dutch versions. First of all, it is a telling passage as to the handling of epithets, formulas and repetitions, probably Homer’s most striking stylistic features, which have puzzled many a translator. In the second verse, one listens to the ‘winged words’, then follows the formulaic address of Agamemnon (compare the equally formulaic answer, v. 405). The two groups of three verses between asterisks are pure repetitions, except for the change from the second to the first person. A second point of interest are the names of the god Poseidon and, a few lines further, of Odysseus himself: are their Greek forms preserved, or are they Latinized (which mostly means a normalization [6]) ? Thirdly, the women in verse 403 deserve some attention. Odysseus clearly thinks Agamemnon may have fallen in battle, in an attempt to sack a town and take its women captive. As we will see, some translators have asked themselves: is that what a hero should think of another hero ? A final detail is the handling of the personal pronoun se, a problem referred to above. It deserves a closer study mainly in 20th-century translations : until shortly after World War II, the by now archaic forms ge/gij/u were the obvious choice.

        The close reading of this passage, in search of the implicit translational strategy, will be completed by the translator’s explicit statements on his method and objectives — if at least he comments upon his work.

'Homer, Prince of Poets and Father of Poetry’.

        The first Dutch Homer, and one of the first Western European vernacular Odysseys, was that by Dierick Coornhert (1561), an important poet on the threshold of the Dutch Renaissance.(7) Its long title is revealing on several points: De Dolinghe van Vlysse, bescreue int Griecx door den Poeet Homerum vadere ende fonteyne alder Poeten, ny eerstmael wten Latijne in rijm verduytscht. The original Greek title, Odysseia, is rendered with a paraphrase using the Latinized name of the hero (‘The wandering of Ulysses’) — no wonder, for Coornhert translated from a Latin version (8) (ny eerstmael… ‘now for the first time rendered in Dutch [verduytscht!] from Latin’), although he does mention that the original version was in Greek (bescreve int Griecx…). The Greek author is introduced as ‘the poet Homer, father and source of all poets’. In the preface he is moreover called ‘prince of poets’. It is a typical Renaissance title for Homer : Chapman and the first French translators use this epithet as well.

        Indeed, it was the period of rediscovery of the Homeric poems, and the sixteenth century saw the first vernacular versions of Homer in all four literatures we are considering. Coornhert was not the only one who did not translate directly from the Greek original : Arthur Hall’s Iliad in fourteeners was based on the French version by Hugues Salel, who in turn sought inspiration in Latin models (although he probably used the Greek as well).(9)  It is remarkable, by the way, that Salel’s Iliade was in rhyming decasyllabic couplets, the form that was to become almost canonical in the English tradition after Hall and Chapman.(10)  Salel was also the source for the first Dutch Iliad, by the Flemish poet and painter Carel Van Mander, who used rhyming alexandrines, the originally French metre that was to dominate both French and Dutch baroque and classicism.

        Back to Coornhert. These are his translations of the two passages.

Book I.
Considering that he used an intermediary translation, we may say that Coornhert produced a relatively faithful translation, adapting Homer on a stylistic level without too much distorting his ideas. It is important especially to note the metre, which is based on a more or less fixed number of stresses (5 or 6), but not on a fixed number of syllables. This so-called stress verse was the usual form of the late medieval Dutch literature, and rooted in the old Germanic poetry. Moreover, it was an acceptable equivalent for the ancient hexameter. In his (metric) preface, Coornhert expressly rejects the fashionable syllabotonic verse forms (alexandrines and iambic pentameters) imported from France. He sticks to the indigenous tradition, using moreover a complex chain rhyme (abaab // bcbc cdcd dede etc). His poetical technique thus follows the usual practice of the Dutch chambers of rhetoric. It indicates the self-consciousness of the Low Countries in that period.

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(Figure 4: Jan van der Straat [1532-1605, i.e. the same period as Coornhert] alias Giovanni Stradano, Odysseus on the island of Helios.
The drawing, presenting Odysseus as a Dutch burgher [see e.g. his hat, and also his splendid ship!], is a pictorial equivalent of Coornhert’s
poetical technique: an adaptation to contemporary fashion.© Museum Boymans-Van Beuningen, Rotterdam)









‘Les belles infidèles’.

        The seventeenth century is the so-called Golden Age of Holland (think of Rembrandt). The mainly protestant Netherlands had become independent as ‘the United Provinces’, whereas Flanders fell to the Spaniards and remained catholic. The separation of the Low Countries dates from this period (the Peace of Münster, 1648). Meanwhile, The Western European civilizations had ‘come of age’, so to speak. The English and the French especially knew their own ‘fathers of poetry’ (think of Shakespeare and Milton, Corneille, Molière and Racine) and shaped their own poetical forms, soon considered classical. Ancient literature had lost its evident superiority and exemplarity. In Holland, the influential literary circle ‘Nil volentibus arduum’ wanted to impose the rules of classical French poetry, and indeed the syllabotonic verse defeated Coornhert’s Middle Dutch verse.

        As it comes to translations, the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are the period of the ‘belles infidèles’, commonly called so with this French name not only because the metaphor was coined in France (11), but also because the ‘belles infidèles’ are considered to be a typically French phenomenon. One has to nuance this view : England too saw its own peak of ‘pretty unfaithfulness’, albeit perhaps less outspokingly, with Alexander Pope (Odyssey 1716-20). And France itself witnessed its famous ‘Querelle des Anciens et des Modernes’, in the second phase of which the Homer translations by Mme Dacier (Odyssée, 1708) and Houdar De la Motte (Iliade, 1714) played a prominent role.(12)  The first one, in prose, is relatively faithful, whereas Houdar, writing in rhyming alexandrines, adapted Homer drastically according to the horizon of expectation of his French readers, cutting down Homer by half, adding embellishments of his own invention, making the heroic characters more consistent (to use his own words).

        The Dutch translational practice in those centuries was clearly influenced by the current trend. In 1651, a certain G.V.S. (we don’t know with certainty the translator’s full name) made one of the first prose translations in the four cultures under consideration: De Dooling van Ulisses. In vierentwintig Boeken Door den vermaarden Griekschen Poët Homerus beschreven.(13)  Contrary to what one might expect, this prose version is less faithful than Coornhert’s versified translation. The prologue, for instance, is shortened: what follows is the rendering of all 10 verses of the Greek prologue.

Goddin des gezangs, u roep ik aan, helpt my lof zingen ter eeren van die Man die land en steden doorreyst, en menigerley gevaar doorworstelt heeft, en garen zijne reisbroeders verlost had. ‘Mousa’ is rendered as Goddin des gezangs (‘Goddess of Song’) — as will be the case in the next two translations : ‘Zanggodin’ and ‘Zangster’. This explanatory strategy, eliminating the pagan godhead (14), is applied even more radically to the passage from book 11 : ‘Poseidon’ has become ‘de zee’ (the sea). Of course, this metonymical rendering is opposed to the spirit of Homer’s epics. Ik zag hem aan, zuchte uit meêlijden, en sprak : ô Agamemnon, den machtigsten onder alle Grieken, hoe zijt ghy gestorven ? * heeft u de zee verslonden, of zijt ghy van de menschetende Reuzen,* of een boze vrouw omgebragt ? daar op dien Koning antwoorde : ô Ulysses, * de bulderende winden, noch d’ongestuime zee, of de felle en wreede Reuzen zijn oorzaak van mijn einde *… Unlike Odysseus, G.V.S. clearly considered it inappropriate for a hero to carry off and defile women : verse 403 is rendered as of [zijt ghy van] een boze vrouw omgebragt ? (‘or have you been killed by [!] a wicked woman?’).

        One might think that this reversal of the original sense is due to a poor knowledge of Greek, or to an error in G.V.S.'s source(s).(15) Yet, this is rather a deliberate attempt at fitting the hero’s conduct into the cultural script of those days, as we see even in Mme Dacier’s faithful translations.(16)  Indeed, Koenraet Droste and Jan van ‘s Gravenweert, the two next Dutch translators, appear to have had the same moral reticense.

Koenraet Droste, 1719, De Odyssea van Homerus, in Neêrduits gerymt.(17)

Book I.
Jan van ‘s Gravenweert (1823), De Odysséa van Homerus, naar het Grieksch in Nederduitsche verzen gevolgd. In his guess concerning Agamemnon’s death, Droste’s Odysseus speaks only of the raiding of herds, not mentioning cities or women. Van ‘s Gravenweert again reverses the original sense, yet in another way than G.V.S. The controversial verse is translated as Of zijt ge in ‘t oorlogswee voor stad en vaderland en vrouwenschaar gevallen ? (‘Or have you been killed, fighting for your [!] city and country and the throng of women?’). And to make Agamemnon’s supposed patriotism even clearer, his Dutch answer begins with a completely invented verse : Ik viel niet voor ‘t behoud van Argos hooge wallen (‘I did not die in defence of the high walls of Argos’).

        The naturalizing strategy of the ‘belles infidèles’ is expressly phrased in the prefaces of Droste and van ‘s Gravenweert, not by accident two translations in rhyming alexandrines. Droste takes offence at the ethics of Homer’s characters, at the verbal repetitions and the long similes he judges inappropriate to the subject. He has omitted several of these, because, as he says, « they do not correspond to the style of Dutch poetry and are repulsive to the taste of our century ».(18)  A clear illustration of this deletion of repetitions is to be found in the passage from book 11 : five verses (304 to 308: the two formulaic verses and Agamemnon’s answer), are shortened into five words : Neen heeft hij mij gezegd (‘No, he said to me’). On the other hand, the prologue is embellished, among other things with baroque exclamations : the first five verses of the prologue are inflated to 12 verses. Note that Droste’s translation is exactly contemporary to Pope’s.

        Van ‘s Gravenweerts unfaithfulness is less clear-cut than Droste’s, yet he too admits that his version is not always literal, not only since that would be impossible in a verse translation, but also « because that would be repulsive, due to the stiffness of Homer’s treatment ».(19)

The historical-documentary turn.

        Whereas the Dutch tradition of Odyssey translations had taken the lead in the preceding centuries (remember Coornhert and G.V.S.), it was among the latest to partake of the so-called ‘philological-documentary turn’. The Germans, inconspicuous until then as it comes to international translational influences, had inaugurated this turn (‘Wende’) at the end of the 18th century, with the influential hexameter translation by Johann Voss (1781). This work gained an exemplary historical significance for the German language and literature, almost like Luther’s Bible translation. It remained canonical throughout the 19th century, and is still reprinted in Germany. Voss’s intention to elevate and renew the German language and literature by means of exotic translations gained support from famous 19th-century scholars and translators like Schleiermacher and Humboldt.

        Eventually, this new current replaced the pre-philological and unhistorical tradition of the adaptations, as we should call the ‘belles infidèles’. Discussions ‘on translating Homer’ emerged in England also (think of the notorious book by Matthew Arnold) ; some hexametrical English Iliads were published. Even the French became aware that ancient authors deserved to be judged and rendered on their own poetical terms. Almost a century after Voss, Leconte de Lisle’s prose translation of the Iliad was prefaced with an ‘avertissement’ stating that the period of the unfaithful translations was gone — a groundbreaking statement, to the editor’s mind.(20)

        Finally, the Dutch also found their own Voss, namely Vosmaer (a nice coincidence).

Carel Vosmaer (1888), De Odussee van Homeros
 

Referring expressly to his great German example (Vosmaer’s 1880 Ilias includes a hymnic address of Voss, written in hexameters!), he introduced the dactylic hexameter in Dutch literature, maintained as many of the stylistic features as possible (see the formulaic verses and verbal repetitions in the second passage), was the first to use Greek transcriptions (see Poseidoon or Odusseus, and Homeros in the title), and coined numerous neologisms in order to render the Homeric epithets (like German, the Dutch language lends itself to compounds). The preface to Vosmaer’s Ilias, entitled Homeros in Nederland (‘Homer in Holland’), is a typical product of the 19th century. Historicism shines out in his initial norm, which gives absolute priority to the source linguistic and literary norms: he stresses repeatedly the unity of form and content, in his eyes the basic law of all Greek art. His metrical option is inspired by other motives as well, revealing the Romanticism of the period: he invokes a kind of Dutch poetical Volksgeist in a manner reminiscent of Coornhert’s conservative versification. Indeed, he dismisses virulently the by then firmly established Dutch alexandrines, considering them as "French counting of syllables, a disaster for our poetry and our poetical mind". As a matter of fact, the dactylic hexameter, with its six beats and variable number of syllables, is much closer to the Middle Dutch stress verse than to syllabotonic verse forms.

        Vosmaer’s influence has been enormous, both on later translations and on overall Dutch language and literature : soon afterwards, Dutch poets began to use hexameters for their own verses (21), and several of his neologisms or epic expressions found their way into the standard Dutch dictionaries and common usage. Gevleugelde woorden (the ‘winged words’, see e.g. the second verse of the nekuia passage) is but one example. His basic translational strategy remained normative for a long period. With the exception of van der Weerd’s literal prose translation, published in 1901 (22), all Dutch Odysseys until 1950 were composed in hexameters, and written in an artificial diction, tormenting the syntactic rules in far worse a manner than Vosmaer himself had done. The versions by Timmerman and Boutens especially are, from a modern point of view, hilarious and irritating at the same time, and they contributed to the radical statement by the great Dutch Hellenist Verdenius, who edited a small but notorious book in order to prove that Greek literature, in this case Homer, is untranslatable.(23)

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 (Figure 5: Jan Cox, The vultures, or the cleansers of the battle field, acrylic on canvas, 90 x 130 cm, 1975.
© Adriaan Raemdonck, De Zwarte Panter Gallery, Antwerpen.)









The era of multiformity.

        Fortunately, the Dutch have kept translating Homer, but in a rather different way.(24) Looking back at the second half of this century, we might call it the era of multiformity and autonomy. Dutch translators feel free to choose their own options, and do not follow foreign trends anymore — if one can speak of international trends at all in the last decades.

        The fifties present themselves as a decade of prose translations, with three Dutch versions of both Iliad and Odyssey, by Schwartz, van Oldenburg Ermke and van Gelder.(25) The Schwartz translation emerged as the lasting one : it is still regularly printed in high quality series of classical translations, both in pocket and in hardback, and it is widely used at high schools, at least in Flanders.(26)

        In 1965, the Dutch poet Bertus Aafjes presented a highly personal Odyssey.(27)  He asked himself how a Greek troubadour would sing today for a Dutch-speaking audience. His answer is that it definitely would not be in the Homeric metre, and consequently, he has chosen an iambic metre, as he used for his own narrative poetry too. He thus happens to have written the only Dutch Odyssey in iambic pentameter (or decasyllabic verse), although this is probably the most popular metre in original Dutch poetry. This situation contrasts sharply with the long English tradition, beginning with Chapman.

        My story ends with a remarkable comeback of the dactylic hexameter. The beginning of the nineties was indeed marked by the publication of two Odysseys (28), both claiming to use the original metre (and both paying tribute to Vosmaer by preserving his masterly enjambment in the first verse : rondzwierf for the Greek enjambment plankhthè). Critics have rightly objected that the first one, by Imme Dros, can scarcely be said to be written in dactylic hexameters, and that her style is teeming with fashionable colloquialisms. The version by De Roy van Zuydewijn has received more favourable reviews by classicists, both for its metre and for its style (and I must say this is also my favourite Dutch Odyssey). Yet, Dros’ book has been sold many times more. Apparently, she has been able to reach an ‘unserved audience’ for Homer’s narrative. And perhaps this is the very best quality a translator of the threatened ancient languages can possess.
 

Kristoffel Demoen
Post-doctoral research fellow
Fund for Scientific Research (Flanders) / Universiteit Gent
Kristoffel.Demoen@rug.ac.be
Endnotes
1) A clear and concise English introduction to the Dutch language and its political, cultural and linguistic history is to be found in Vandeputte O. — Vincent P. — Hermans T., Dutch. The Language of Twenty Million Dutch and Flemish People. Rekkem 1995. See also Van der Horst J.M., “A Brief History of the Dutch Language.” The Low Countries (1996-1997) 163-172.
2) As a matter of fact, it is very similar to Low German, the variant of German that has given way to High German as the relatively recent official language of the united Germany. The historical affinity between Dutch and (Low) German is apparent in the names of the languages: the English term ‘Dutch’ (as opposed to ‘Nederlands’ [‘Netherlandic’] — the 20th-century Dutch name) is cognate to German ‘Deutsch’ and Dutch ‘Duits’, both indicating the German language. Moreover, until the 19th century, the more usual Dutch names for the own language were ‘dietsch’, ‘duytsch’ and ‘nederduitsch’ (‘Low German’) — from Latin theodiscus, which survives also in Italian ‘tedesco’ (German!).
    Dutch has a word order that is closer to German than to English. On the other hand, two  main characteristics opposing Dutch and English to (High) German, are the conservative consonant system (English and Dutch did not have the High German sound shift, compare ‘book’, ‘boek’ with German ‘Buch’, or ‘apple’, ‘appel’ vs ‘Apfel’), and the disappearance of the original Germanic case system, preserved in German. In this respect at least Dutch is easier to learn than ‘Deutsch’.
3) Both terms refer to translational shifts due to grammatical or lexical incongruences between the source language and the target language. The first term refers more specifically to a decision the author of the original text did not have to make, e.g. the choice between definite and indefinite articles when translating from Latin. See Levy, J. , "Translation as a Decision Process", in: To honor Roman Jakobson, The Hague 1968, 1172-1182 (on surplus decisions: p. 1174).
4) Toury, G., In search of a Theory of Translation. Tel Aviv 1980, pp. 54 ff.
5) Greek text: ed. von der Mühll. English translation by Mandelbaum, in blank verse : I looked, I wept, and pitty filled my heart. / And when I spoke, I offered these winged words : / « O Agamemnon, Atreus’ famed son, / how did dour death defeat so great a captain ? / Was it Poseidon, hurling his harsh storms / against your ships, who finally won out ? / Or did you die on land, when fighting-men / destroyed you as you raided herds and flocks / or tried to win their women and their town ? » / These were my words. This was his quick reply : / « Odysseus, man of many wiles, divine / son of Laertes, I was not undone / by lord Poseidon : none of his harsh storms / attacked my ships. Nor did I meet my end / on land, struck down by fighting-men...
6) At least in past centuries: in modern Dutch, the Latin form Ulysses e.g. is completely out of use, unlike in English and especially in French (Ulysse).
7) See Weevers Th., Coornhert’s Dolinghe van Ulysse. De eerste Nederlandse Odyssee, Groningen 1934; Smit W.A.P., Kalliope in de Nederlanden. Het Renaissancistisch-klassicistische epos van 1550 tot 1850, Assen 1975-1983, vol. I pp. 272-295; Bonger H., Leven en werk van D.V. Coornhert, Amsterdam 1978, especially pp. 363-371.
8) I wish to thank Dr. Georg Knauer, who is preparing for the Catalogus Translationum et Commentariorum the Latin translations of Homer. He confirms Weevers' main conclusion as to Coornhert's source: he most probably used the Basel edition of 1551, even if the identification of the Latin translator with the abbot of St. Blasien, proposed by Weevers and repeated by Bonger and Smit, is wrong, as Knauer notified me.
9) Cf. Kalwies H.H., "The first verse translation of the Iliad in Renaissance France." Bibliothèque d'humanisme et Renaissance XL (1978): 597-607.
10) Chapman used fourteeners for his Iliad and turned to pentameters for his Odyssey.
11) Albrecht J., Literarische Übersetzung. Geschichte — Theorie — Kulturelle Wirkung, Darmstadt 1998, p. 76.
12) See Mazon P., Madame Dacier et les traductions d’Homère en France, Oxford 1936.
13) Discussion in Smit, o.c., vol. I pp. 574-583. Smit accepts the hypothesis, first advanced by A. de Kempenaer, that G.V.S. stands for Gilles van Staveren.
14) Not only her name is transformed, but also her role: she is merely asked to ‘aid [the author: my] in celebrating the Man…’.
15) As Smit has proven, G.V.S. has used Coornhert and probably one or more French or Latin translations.
16) See Lefevere A., Translation, Rewriting and the Manipulation of Literary Fame. London 1992. In chapter 7 (“Translation: Universe of Discourse. Holy Garbage, tho by Homer cook’t”, p. 87-98), Lefevere discusses transformations according to what is acceptable in the target culture, with examples from the 18th-century French Homer translations by Houdar De la Motte, Mme Dacier, de Rochefort and Bitaubé.
17) See Smit, o.c., vol. II pp. 135-141.
18) The most noteworthy passages from the preface to the first edition (Rotterdam 1719) run as follows. The sentence on the repetitions and similes is italicized: « Ik weet niet wat naem ik aen dit Dicht sal geven. Ik kan het geen Oversetting noemen, omdat ik meenigmael van den Grieksen text ben afgegaen, waer in Homerus veel omstandigheden heeft laten invloeijen, die hy om syne Vaersen te vullen, noodig had, en die in de myne overtollig waren, of met den trant der Hollandsche Poëzy niet over een quamen. Daerby heb ik uitgelaten veel herhalingen, die volgens den styl van dien tyd, gebruikelyk waren, en in onse eeuw aenstootelyk syn. Ook vele gelykenissen die my dunkt dat te lang uitgerekt waren. (...) soo dat ik de geschiedenissen meer gevolgt heb, als de woorden (...) De namen der Voorouders van de Helden, en hunne geslachtrekening heb ik meest overgeslagen, om dat ons daer aen niet gelegen is, ‘t geen aen de Grieken eenige nuttigheit kon geven, mits eenigen hunnen oorspronk daer uit trokken. »
The preface to his 1721 Iliad translation is very similar in thought: in his dismissal of the inappropriate repetitions, Droste refers to Horace’s famous expression that ‘Homer sometimes slumbers’. It is also interesting that he justifies the publication of his own Iliad by the fact that the French verse translation by Houdar de la Motte was not complete: « Ik heb toen niet gedacht, dat ik dit werk soude durven ondernemen ; om dat de Heer de la Motte zulks in deftige Fransche Vaersen al gedaen had, daer ik de myne niet soude durven by gelyken. Maer alsoo hy van vier en twintig Boeken van Homerus twaelf gemaekt heeft, en oversulks by na de helft heeft overgeslagen, heb ik het genoegen aen myne Lantsluiden willen geven, dat sy den gantschen texst hier in gerymt sullen vinden. »
19) Voorberigt (preface) p. xviv-xv : « Wat nu mijne navolging betreft, ik heb getracht derzelver toon in overeenstemming met dien van het oorspronkelijke te brengen ; ik heb met dien eerbied, welken een navolger van HOMERUS aan dien doorluchtigen voorganger schuldig is, getrouw, doch niet altijd letterlijk vertaald, hetwelk in verzen bijkans ondoenlijk is, en zelfs, door de stijfheid in de behandeling, aanstootelijk zoude wezen. »
20) «Le temps des traductions infidèles est passé. Il se fait un retour manifeste vers l’exactitude du sens et de la littéralité. Ce qui n’était, il y a quelques années, qu’une tentative périlleuse, est devenu un besoin réfléchi de toutes les intelligences élevées ». (1870!)
21) The metre has never really broken through, though; nowadays, it is merely used in translations from the classics, or as a metrical allusion to ancient epics. A striking example of the latter use is the cycle Drie heldendichten (‘Three heroic cantos’) by the Dutch poet Gerrit Kouwenaar, written on the occasion of an exhibition by the Flemish painter Jan Cox, entitled Ilias. The harsh tone of the paintings (see illustrations 3 and 5) is reflected by the cynical intertextual use of Homeric diction and hexametrical rhythm:  'Zing mij o muze op houthoudend / naoorlogs papier het hexametrisch gerochel / der helden // tel mij de versvoeten de voetnoten de kunst / benen de onthande / rolstoelen in de boeken, […] zing mij o muze de ovens die onder zeus’ blinddoek / de tinnen soldaten als vlees deden smelten en schenk mij / het bevende glaasje het waterdicht uurwerk de kracht / mij het oog uit te rukken dat zag / hoe de luizen als mensen verkoolden' — (opening lines and final stanza of the first canto). I wished it was not paradoxical in our context to state that this poem is untranslatable, due to its unity of form and content.
22) W.G. van der Weerd (1901), Homerus’ Odyssee, in proza vertaald. In his preface, the author refers to foreign prose translations as an apology for his own non-metrical form.
For the incipit and the nekuia passage of all 20th-century Dutch Odysseys, see the first appendix.
23) Verdenius W.J., Is de Griekse litteratuur vertaalbaar? (Is Greek literature translatable?) Zwolle 1958.
24) See my article “Van Aafjes tot Zuydewijn: een odyssee langs vertaalopties.” Kleio.Tijdschrift voor oude talen en antieke cultuur XXVII (1998): 54-72. It focuses especially on the more recent Odyssey translations.
25) Maximiliaan August Schwartz (1951), Homerus, Odyssee; Frans van Oldenburg Ermke (1958), Homeros, Odyssea; Jan van Gelder (1959), Homerus, De terugkeer van Odysseus [Odyssee]. The quality of the second translation is inferior, both qua translation (it is a hybrid combination of archaisms and outdated colloquialisms, and of literal and free rendering of the source text) and qua presentation (no introduction, no glossaries or notes, no indication of verse lines). Unfortunately, a famous Dutch consortium of remainder and second hand bookshops has been reprinting this very translation for years now, and sells it at a knockdown price, thus spoiling the market.
26) The popularity and acceptability of this version in Flanders might have to do with its overall choice for the archaic (yet in the fifties still widely accepted) personal pronouns ge/gij/u. This hypothesis is not based on empirical research, though.
27) Bertus Aafjes (1965), Homeros, Odyssee.
28) Imme Dros (1991), Homeros, Odysseia. De reizen van Odysseus (‘Odysseus’ Travels’); Herbert Jan de Roy van Zuydewijn (1992), Homerus, Odyssee. De terugkeer van Odysseus (‘Odysseus’ Return’).

Appendix 1: incipits and nekuia passages of all 20th-century Dutch Odysseys.
 
 

W.G. van der Weerd (1901), prose.
 

Book I.

Muze! verhaal mij van den man, den listigen, die zeer veel rondzwierf, nadat hij de sterke veste van Troje had helpen verwoesten; van vele menschen aanschouwde hij de steden en leerde hij den volksaard kennen, vele smarten ook leed hij op zee in zijn gemoed, strevend naar eigen levensbehoud en naar den terugkeer van zijne makkers.

Book XI.

Toen ik hem zag, stortte ik tranen en kreeg deernis (met hem) in mijn hart en mijn stem verheffende, sprak ik tot hem de gevleugelde woorden:
"Roemrijke zoon van Atreus, vorst der volken, Agamemnon! Welk lot van den smartvollen dood heeft u toch overweldigd? * Heeft op uw scheepstocht u soms Poseidon nedergeslagen, tegen u ’t ellendig gestorm van geweldige winden verwekkend? Of hebben vijandige mannen u vermoord op het vasteland, * terwijl gij er runderen en heerlijke kudden van schapen den uitweg afsneedt, of was het, terwijl zij streden ter bescherming van hun stad en hun’ vrouwen?"
Zóó sprak ik en aanstonds zeide hij daarop ten antwoord tot mij:
"Godlijke zoon van Laërtes, vindingrijke Odysseus! * Noch Poseidon heeft op mijn scheepstocht mij nedergeslagen [tegen mij ’t ellendig gestorm van geweldige winden verwekkend], noch hebben vijandige mannen mij vermoord op het vasteland, * maar…

Aegidius Willem Timmerman (1934), hexameters.
 

Pieter Cornelis Boutens (1937), hexameters.
  Wolter Everard Johan Kuiper (1949), hexameters. Maximiliaan August Schwartz (1951), prose.

Book I.

Muze, bezing mij de listige held, die lang over de wijde wereld zwierf, nadat hij de machtige burcht van Troje verwoest had. Van veel mensen zag hij de steden en hij leerde kennen hun aard. Veel ellende doorstond hij op zee, vechtend voor zijn leven en de terugkeer van zijn vrienden.

Book XI.

De tranen schoten mij in de ogen en vol medelijden sprak ik hem toe: "Beroemde zoon van Atreus, Agamemnon, machtige koning, welk lot gaf u prijs aan de jammerlijke dood? * Heeft Poseidon de boze winden aangeblazen tot een geweldige storm en op zee u vernietigd? Of hebben vijanden u gedood op de kust, * toen ge hun runderen kaapte en hun mooie schapenkudden of met hen vocht om hun stad en hun vrouwen?" Zo vroeg ik en hij antwoordde: "Koninklijke zoon van Laertes, vernuftige Odysseus, * niet heeft Poseidon op zee mijn schepen vernietigd, niet over-weldigden vijanden mij op de kust,… *

Frans van Oldenburg Ermke (1958), prose.

Book I.

Wil mij vertellen, o Muze, van de zwerver, de vindingrijke die maar rond bleef dolen, nadat hij het heilige Troje vernield had. Hij zag de steden veler mensen en leerde hun zeden en gewoonten. Op zee bedreigden hem veel gevaren, terwijl hij streed om het eigen leven en dat zijner makkers, opdat zij behouden thuis mochten komen.

Book XI.

Door deernis bewogen (…) begon ook ik te schreien en sprak tot hem woorden, die, als vogels gewiekt, recht op hun doel afvlogen:
"Verhevene zoon van Atreus, leider van mannen, Agamemnon, zeg mij, hoe het doodslot u trof. * Wekte Poseidon de winden, zodat uw vloot in een schipbreuk ten onder ging? Of zijt ge in de handen gevallen van barbaren te land, * toen ge hun kudden omsingelde als buit voor uw schepen, of toen ge met hen vocht om hun stad en hun vrouwen?"
Mij gaf ten antwoord de schim van Agamemnon: "Koninklijke zoon van Laërtes, zeer schrandere Odysseus, * neen, het was niet Poseidon, die mij dit aandeed en mijn vloot deed vergaan. Ook viel ik niet als slachtoffer van barbaren te land. * "

Jan van Gelder (1959), prose.

Book I.

Vertel mij, Muze, over de man die altijd uitkomst wist, ik bedoel de man die zo lang rondzwierf, nadat hij de heilige stad van Troje had verwoest. Hij zag de steden van veel mensen en hun gezindheid leerde hij kennen. Veel ellende leed hij op zee, terwijl hij vocht voor zijn leven en probeerde zijn volgelingen behouden terug te geleiden.

Book XI.

Tranen sprongen in mijn ogen toen ik hem zag en vervuld van medelijden sprak ik: "Roemrijke zoon van Atreus, aanvoerder van het krijgsvolk, Agamemnon, welke doodsdemon heeft je zo rampzalig gebroken? * Gebeurde het op zee, doordat Poseidon een storm waar niets tegen te beginnen viel onmeedogend liet uitrazen? Of kwam je te vallen op een of andere kust, in een strijd tegen vijanden, * omdat je hun runderen wilde meevoeren en hun mooie schapekudden, misschien ook vocht om hun stad en hun vrouwen?"
Zo sprak ik, en hij antwoordde: "Zeus-verwante zoon van Laërtes, vindingrijke Odysseus, * het gebeurde niet op zee door de wil van Poseidon, noch ook aan land ineen strijd tegen vijanden,… *"
 

Bertus Aafjes (1965), blank verse (iambic pentameter).

Imme Dros (1991), "hexameters."
  Herbert Jan de Roy van Zuydewijn (1992), hexameters.
 



Appendix 2: Select Bibliography. Albrecht J., Literarische Übersetzung. Geschichte—Theorie —Kulturelle Wirkung, Darmstadt 1998.

Arnold M., On Translating Homer, London 1861.

Ballard M., De Cicéron à Benjamin. Traducteurs, traductions, réflexions. Lille 1995.

Cheyns A. (éd.), Éditions et traductions de l'Iliade et de l'Odyssée. Bibliographie sélective. Louvain-la-Neuve, 1976.

Coen M., "Traduction homérique et phénomène de traduction." Les Etudes Classiques LVI (1988): 15-25.

Demoen K., "Van Aafjes tot Zuydewijn: een odyssee langs vertaalopties" Kleio. Tijdschrift voor oude talen en antieke cultuur XXVII (1998): 54-72.

De Rynck P. — Welkenhuysen A., De Oudheid in het Nederlands. Repertorium en bibliografische gids. Baarn, 1992.

Geddes A. G., "Homer in translation." G&R XXXV (1988): 1-13.

Haentzschel G. "Der deutsche Homer im 19. Jahrhundert." Antike und Abendland XXIX (1983): 49-89.

Kalwies H.H., "The first verse translation of the Iliad in Renaissance France." Bibliothèque d'humanisme et Renaissance XL (1978): 597-607.

Lefevere A., Translation, Rewriting and the Manipulation of Literary Fame. London 1992. Chapter 7: "Translation: Universe of Discourse. Holy Garbage, tho by Homer cook’t" (pp. 87-98).

Mason H.A., To Homer through Pope. An introduction to Homer's Iliad and Pope's translation. London 1972.

Smit W.A.P., Kalliope in de Nederlanden. Het Renaissancistisch-klassicistische epos van 1550 tot 1850. 2 vol. Assen 1975-1983.

Steiner G., Homer in English. London — New York 1996.

Vandeputte O. — Vincent P. — Hermans T., Dutch. The Language of Twenty Million Dutch and Flemish People. Rekkem 1995.

Van Hoof H., Histoire de la traduction en Occident. Paris — Louvain-la-Neuve 1991.

Verdenius W.J., Is de Griekse litteratuur vertaalbaar? (Is Greek literature translatable?) Zwolle 1958

Wender D. "Plain in diction, plain in thought. Some criteria for evaluating translations of the Iliad." AJPh XCVI (1975): 239-255.