Agricola is not compared to the pyramids, to the Flavian circus, nor to
any works of art and literature: these flights of imagination were
not known to the Ancients; but in a learned modern, I have seen Dante
compared to Wagner's operas, to the Parthenon and St.
any works of art and literature: these flights of imagination were
not known to the Ancients; but in a learned modern, I have seen Dante
compared to Wagner's operas, to the Parthenon and St.
Tacitus
" The impressions of Tacitus are indeed wonderful: I doubt,
whether volumes could bring us nearer to the mutinous legions, than the
few chapters in which he records their history. I am always delighted
by Gordon's way of telling the battle, in which the iron men of Sacrovir
were overthrown; the account begins on page 139. Then how satisfying is
the narrative of the wars in Germany, of the shipwreck, of the funeral
of Varus and the slaughtered legions; how pleasing the description of
Germanicus' antiquarian travels in Egypt, and in Greece. Though Tacitus
is not a maker of "descriptions," in our modern sense: there is but one
"description" in "The Annals," so far as I remember, it is of Capri; and
it is not the sort, that would be quoted by a reviewer, as a "beautiful
cameo of description. " With Tacitus, a field of battle is not an
occasion for "word-painting," as we call it; the battle is always first,
the scenery of less importance. He tells, what it is necessary to know;
but he is too wise to think, that we can realise from words, a place
which we have never seen; and too sound in his taste, to forget the
wholesome boundaries between poetry and prose. This is the way of all
the ancient writers. In a work on "Landscape," I remember that Mr.
Hamerton mourns over the Commentaries of Caesar; because they do not
resemble the letters of a modern war-correspondent; Ascham, on the other
hand, a man of real taste and learning, says of the Commentaries, "All
things be most perfectly done by him; in Caesar only, could never yet
fault be found. " I agree with Ascham: I think I prefer the Commentaries
as they are, chaste and quiet; I really prefer them to Mr. Kinglake's
"Crimean War," or to Mr. Forbes' Despatches, or even to the most
effusive pages of Mr. Stanley's book on Africa.
In "The Life of Agricola," I would mention the simplicity of the
treatment and the excellence of the taste. Tacitus does not recite the
whole of Roman history, nor assemble all the worthies out of Plutarch.
Agricola is not compared to the pyramids, to the Flavian circus, nor to
any works of art and literature: these flights of imagination were
not known to the Ancients; but in a learned modern, I have seen Dante
compared to Wagner's operas, to the Parthenon and St. Peter's, and to
Justinian's code. The sanctities of private life are not violated; yet
we know everything, that it is decent to know, about Agricola. Lord
Coleridge has given a beautiful rendering of the closing passages of
"The Agricola," in his account of Mr. Matthew Arnold: these elegant
papers are not only models of good English; but are conspicuous,
among recent obituary notices, for their fine taste and their becoming
reticence. From the excesses of modern biographers, Tacitus was in
little danger; thanks to his Roman sense, and to the qualities of the
Roman Language. "Economy," says Mr. Symonds, "is exhibited in every
element of this athletic tongue. Like a naked gladiator all bone and
muscle, it relies upon bare sinewy strength. " That author speaks of "the
austere and masculine virtues of Latin, the sincerity and brevity of
Roman speech;" and Tacitus is, beyond any doubt, the strongest, the
austerest, the most pregnant of all the Romans. "Sanity," says Mr.
Matthew Arnold, in conclusion, "that is the great virtue of the ancient
literature; the want of that is the great defect of the modern, in
spite of all its variety and power. " "It is impossible to read the great
ancients, without losing something of our caprice and eccentricity. I
know not how it is, but their commerce with the ancients appears to
me to produce, in those who constantly practise it, a steadying and
composing effect upon the judgment, not of literary works only, but of
men and events in general. They are like persons who have had a very
weighty and impressive experience; they are more truly than others under
the empire of facts, and more independent of the language current among
those with whom they live. "
It has been told of Cardinal Newman, that he never liked to pass
a single day, without rendering an English sentence into Latin.
whether volumes could bring us nearer to the mutinous legions, than the
few chapters in which he records their history. I am always delighted
by Gordon's way of telling the battle, in which the iron men of Sacrovir
were overthrown; the account begins on page 139. Then how satisfying is
the narrative of the wars in Germany, of the shipwreck, of the funeral
of Varus and the slaughtered legions; how pleasing the description of
Germanicus' antiquarian travels in Egypt, and in Greece. Though Tacitus
is not a maker of "descriptions," in our modern sense: there is but one
"description" in "The Annals," so far as I remember, it is of Capri; and
it is not the sort, that would be quoted by a reviewer, as a "beautiful
cameo of description. " With Tacitus, a field of battle is not an
occasion for "word-painting," as we call it; the battle is always first,
the scenery of less importance. He tells, what it is necessary to know;
but he is too wise to think, that we can realise from words, a place
which we have never seen; and too sound in his taste, to forget the
wholesome boundaries between poetry and prose. This is the way of all
the ancient writers. In a work on "Landscape," I remember that Mr.
Hamerton mourns over the Commentaries of Caesar; because they do not
resemble the letters of a modern war-correspondent; Ascham, on the other
hand, a man of real taste and learning, says of the Commentaries, "All
things be most perfectly done by him; in Caesar only, could never yet
fault be found. " I agree with Ascham: I think I prefer the Commentaries
as they are, chaste and quiet; I really prefer them to Mr. Kinglake's
"Crimean War," or to Mr. Forbes' Despatches, or even to the most
effusive pages of Mr. Stanley's book on Africa.
In "The Life of Agricola," I would mention the simplicity of the
treatment and the excellence of the taste. Tacitus does not recite the
whole of Roman history, nor assemble all the worthies out of Plutarch.
Agricola is not compared to the pyramids, to the Flavian circus, nor to
any works of art and literature: these flights of imagination were
not known to the Ancients; but in a learned modern, I have seen Dante
compared to Wagner's operas, to the Parthenon and St. Peter's, and to
Justinian's code. The sanctities of private life are not violated; yet
we know everything, that it is decent to know, about Agricola. Lord
Coleridge has given a beautiful rendering of the closing passages of
"The Agricola," in his account of Mr. Matthew Arnold: these elegant
papers are not only models of good English; but are conspicuous,
among recent obituary notices, for their fine taste and their becoming
reticence. From the excesses of modern biographers, Tacitus was in
little danger; thanks to his Roman sense, and to the qualities of the
Roman Language. "Economy," says Mr. Symonds, "is exhibited in every
element of this athletic tongue. Like a naked gladiator all bone and
muscle, it relies upon bare sinewy strength. " That author speaks of "the
austere and masculine virtues of Latin, the sincerity and brevity of
Roman speech;" and Tacitus is, beyond any doubt, the strongest, the
austerest, the most pregnant of all the Romans. "Sanity," says Mr.
Matthew Arnold, in conclusion, "that is the great virtue of the ancient
literature; the want of that is the great defect of the modern, in
spite of all its variety and power. " "It is impossible to read the great
ancients, without losing something of our caprice and eccentricity. I
know not how it is, but their commerce with the ancients appears to
me to produce, in those who constantly practise it, a steadying and
composing effect upon the judgment, not of literary works only, but of
men and events in general. They are like persons who have had a very
weighty and impressive experience; they are more truly than others under
the empire of facts, and more independent of the language current among
those with whom they live. "
It has been told of Cardinal Newman, that he never liked to pass
a single day, without rendering an English sentence into Latin.
