No More Learning

But
somehow the dominance of the moral interest and the frequent
interruption of the narrative by scenes of senatorial inefficiency
serve to obscure the plain sequence of events. It is difficult after a
first reading of the _Histories_ to state clearly what happened in
these two years. And this difficulty is vastly annoying to experts who
wish to trace the course of the three campaigns. Those whose interest
is not in Tacitus but in the military history of the period are
recommended to study Mr. B. W. Henderson's _Civil War and Rebellion in
the Roman Empire_, a delightful book which makes the dark places
plain. But they are not recommended to share his contempt for Tacitus
because his accounts of warfare are as bad as, for instance,
Shakespeare's. Tacitus does not describe in detail the tactics and
geography of a campaign, perhaps because he could not do so, certainly
because he did not wish to. He regarded such details as dry bones,
which no amount of literary skill could animate. His interest is in
human character. Plans of campaign throw little light on that: so they
did not interest him, or, if they did, he suppressed his interest
because he knew that his public would otherwise behave as Dr. Johnson
did when Fox talked to him of Catiline's conspiracy. 'He withdrew his
attention and thought about Tom Thumb. '

There is no worse fault in criticism than to blame a work of art for
lacking qualities to which it makes no pretension.
Tacitus is not a
'bad military historian'. He is not a 'military' historian at all.
Botticelli is not a botanist, nor is Shakespeare a geographer. It is
this fault which leads critics to call Tacitus 'a stilted pleader at a
decadent bar', and to complain that his narrative of the war with
Civilis is 'made dull and unreal by speeches'--because they have not
found in Tacitus what they had no right to look for. Tacitus inserts
speeches for the same reason that he excludes tactical details. They
add to the human interest of his work. They give scope to his great
dramatic powers, to that passionate sympathy with character which
finds expression in a style as nervous as itself. They enable him to
display motives, to appraise actions, to reveal moral forces. It is
interest in human nature rather than pride of rhetoric which makes him
love a good debate.

The supreme distinction of Tacitus is, of course, his style. That is
lost in a translation. 'Hard' though his Latin is, it is not obscure.
Careful attention can always detect his exact thought. Like Meredith
he is 'hard' because he does so much with words. Neither writer leaves
any doubt about his meaning. It is therefore a translator's first duty
to be lucid, and not until that duty is done may he try by faint
flushes of epigram to reflect something of the brilliance of Tacitus'
Latin.