HKB
on the accusation of Scaurus, it is possible that, when the former wrote his life, the latter also wrote his, in order to defend himself from charges advanced against him.
[2] Venia opus fuit. This whole passage has greatly perplexed the critics. The text is disputed, and it is not agreed why Tacitus asks indulgence. Brotier, Dronke, and others, say he asks indulgence for the inferiority of his style and manner (incondita ac rudi voce, c. 3), as compared with the distinguished authors (quisque celeberrimus) of an earlier and better age. But there would have been no less occasion to apologize for that, if the times he wrote of had not been so hostile to virtue. Hertel, La Bletterie, and many French critics, understand that he apologizes for writing the memoir of his father-in-law so late (nunc), when he was already dead (defuncti), instead of doing it, as the great men of a former day did, while the subject of their memoirs was yet alive; and he pleads, in justification of the delay, that he could not have written it earlier without encountering the dangers of that cruel age (the age of Domitian). This makes a very good sense. The only objection against it is, that the language, opus fuit, seems rather to imply that it was necessary to justify himself for writing it at all, by citing the examples of former distinguished writers of biography, as he had done in the foregoing introduction. But why would it have been unnecessary to apologize for writing the life of Agricola, if the times in which he lived had not been so unfriendly to virtue? Because then Agricola would have had opportunity to achieve victories and honors, which would have demanded narration, but for which the jealousy and cruelty of Domitian now gave no scope. This is the explanation of Roth; and he supports it by reference to the fact, that the achievements of Agricola in the conquest of Britain, though doubtless just as Tacitus has described them, yet occupy so small a space in general history, that they are not even mentioned by any ancient historian except Dio Cassius; and he mentions them chiefly out of regard to the discovery made by Agricola, for the first time, that Britain was an island (Vid. R. Exc. 1.) This explanation answers all the demands of grammar and logic; but as a matter of taste and feeling, I cannot receive it. Such an apology for the unworthiness of his subject at the commencement of the biography, ill accords with the tone of dignified confidence which pervades the memoir. The best commentary I have seen on the passage is that of Walther; and it would not, perhaps, be giving more space to so mooted a question than the scholar requires, to extract it entire:--"Venia," he says, "is here nothing else than what we, in the language of modesty, call an apology, and has respect to the very justification he has just offered in the foregoing exordium. For Tacitus there appeals to the usage, not of remote antiquity only, but of later times also, to justify his design of writing the biography of a distinguished man. There would have been no need of such an apology in other times. In other times, dispensing with all preamble, he would have begun, as in c. 4, 'Cnaeus Julius Agricola,' &c., assured that no one would question the propriety of his course. But now, after a long and servile silence, when one begins again 'facta moresque posteris tradere,' when he utters the first word where speech and almost memory (c. 2) had so long been lost, when he stands forth as the first vindicator of condemned virtue, he seems to venture on something so new, so strange, so bold, that it may well require apology." In commenting upon cursaturus--tempora, Walther adds: "If there is any boldness in the author's use of words here, that very fact suits the connection, that by the complexion of his language even, he might paint the audacity 'cursandi tam saeva et infesta virtutibus tempora'--of running over (as in a race, for such is Walther's interpretation of cursandi) times so cruel and so hostile to virtue. Not that those times could excite in Tacitus any real personal fear, for they were past, and he could now think what he pleased, and speak what he thought (Hist. i. 1). Still he shudders at the recollection of those cruelties; and he treads with trembling footstep, as it were, even the path lately obstructed by them. He looks about him to see whether, even now, he may safely utter his voice, and he timidly asks pardon for venturing to break the reigning silence."--Tyler.