No More Learning

[a] The urbanity with which the Dialogue is conducted, and the perfect
harmony with which the speakers take leave of each other, cannot but
leave a pleasing impression on the mind of every reader of taste. It
has some resemblance to the conclusion of Cicero's Dialogue DE NATURA
DEORUM. In both tracts, we have a specimen of the politeness with
which the ancients managed a conversation on the most interesting
subjects, and by the graces of style brought the way of instructing by
dialogue into fashion. A modern writer, whose poetical genius cannot
be too much admired, chooses to call it a _frippery way of writing_.
He advises his countrymen to abandon it altogether; and this for a
notable reason: because the Rev. Dr. Hurd (now Bishop of Worcester)
has shewn the true use of it. That the dialogues of that amiable
writer have an intrinsic value, cannot be denied: they contain a fund
of reflection; they allure by the elegance of the style, and they
bring us into company with men whom we wish to hear, to know, and to
admire. While we have such conversation-pieces, not to mention others
of the same stamp, both ancient and modern, the public taste, it may
be presumed, will not easily be tutored to reject a mode of
composition, in which the pleasing and useful are so happily blended.
The present Dialogue, it is true, cannot be proved, beyond a
controversy, to be the work of Tacitus; but it is also true, that it
cannot, with equal probability, be ascribed to any other writer. It
has been retained in almost every edition of Tacitus; and, for that
reason, claims a place in a translation which professes to give all
the works of so fine a writer.




CONCLUSION.


The Author of these volumes has now gone through the difficult task
of translating Tacitus, with the superadded labour of supplements to
give continuity to the narrative, and notes to illustrate such
passages as seemed to want explanation; but he cannot lay down his
pen, without taking the liberty of addressing a few words to the
reader. As what he has to offer relates chiefly to himself, it shall
be very short. He has dedicated many years of his life to this
undertaking; and though, during the whole time, he had the pleasure
and the honour of being acquainted with many gentlemen of taste and
learning, he had no opportunity of appealing to their opinion, or
guiding himself by their advice.
Amidst the hurry of life, and the
various pursuits in which all are engaged, how could he hope that any
one would be at leisure to attend to the doubts, the difficulties, and
minute niceties, which must inevitably occur in a writer of so
peculiar a genius as Tacitus? He was unwilling to be a troublesome
visitor, and, by consequence, has been obliged, throughout the whole
of his work, to trust to his own judgement, such as it is. He spared
no pains to do all the justice in his power to one of the greatest
writers of antiquity; but whether he has toiled with fruitless
industry, or has in any degree succeeded, must be left to the
judgement of others.

He is now at the end of his labours, and ready, after the example of
Montesquieu, to cry out with the voyager in Virgil, _Italiam!
Italian! _ But whether he is to land on a peaceful shore; whether the
men who delight in a wreck, are to rush upon him with hostile pens,
which in their hands are pitch-forks; whether his cargo is to be
condemned, and he himself to be wounded, maimed, and lacerated; a
little time will discover. Such critics will act as their nature
prompts them. Should they _cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war_,
it may be said,

Quod genus hoc hominum, quæve hunc tam barbara morem
Permittit patria? Hospitio prohibemur arenæ;
Bella cient, primâque vetant consistere terrâ.

This, they may say, is anticipating complaint; but, in the worst that
can happen, it is the only complaint this writer will ever make, and
the only answer they will ever receive from his pen.

It is from a very different quarter that the translator of Tacitus
waits for solid criticism. The men, as Pliny observes, who read with
malignity, are not the only judges. _Neque enim soli judicant, qui
malignè legunt. _ The scholar will see defects, but he will pronounce
with temper: he will know the difficulty, and, in some cases, perhaps
the impossibility, of giving in our language the sentiments of Tacitus
with the precision and energy of the original; and, upon the whole, he
will acknowledge that an attempt to make a considerable addition to
English literature, carries with it a plea of some merit. While the
French could boast of having many valuable translations of Tacitus,
and their most eminent authors were still exerting themselves, with
emulation, to improve upon their predecessors, the present writer saw,
with regret, that this country had not so much as one translation
which could be read, without disgust, by any person acquainted with
the idiom and structure of our language. To supply the deficiency has
been the ambition of the translator.