Fantastic talk, there's a bit of context which makes it all the more interesting.
This lecture was delivered on 3 October, 1892, by the newly-appointed Professor of Latin at University College, London, Alfred Edward Housman (1859-1936). This speech would be simply one example from hundreds of the genre, if it weren’t for three remarkable facts.
First, not only had Housman held no previous position in academia, he had spectacularly failed his examinations in Literae Humaniores (Classics) at Oxford. After a brief spell teaching at his old school, and quietly taking a mere Pass degree, he worked at the Patent Office in London, researching Greek and Latin literature in the British Museum Library whenever time allowed. For him to be appointed from outside Classics into the Chair of Latin[1] at one of Britain’s leading universities remains one of the most remarkable events in the history of academia, and indeed has merited a most remarkable book on the subject. Housman went on to become the most important Latin scholar in the world, and serving for a quarter-century as Kennedy Professor Latin at Cambridge (1911-36); when he left UCL he joked how he was “lifted out of the gutter” by his election in 1892.
Second, this is Housman’s first appearance in public as a scholar: he had little to no history of giving lectures, reading papers, or addressing academics in any capacity.[2] That he enters the fray with such clarity of purpose and conviction of voice is a mark of the man.
Third, Housman’s speech stands as one of the most eloquent defences of a principle that in his day was often challenged, and in our day is so rarely defended, viz that knowledge is inherently good: as humans we naturally pursue it; to acquire it gives pleasure; and each person is drawn, in theory if not always in practice, to different modes and realms of knowledge. The Sciences cannot be adequately defended on the basis of the utility they bring, nor the Humanities on the basis of the morally enriching power they are meant to wield. In short, Housman tells the assembled Faculties of Arts, Laws and Science, that their particular expertise is all well and good, but the value they possess for wider society, and indeed the right they assume for moral grandstanding, are capped at a relatively early stage in their intellectual progress. What lies beyond that point requires other justification, or none at all.
The most important Latin scholar in the world at that time? That is quite a claim. My recollection from Bernard Knox's essay "Closet Modern", collected in Essays Ancient and Modern is that Houseman's work, whatever its quality, was primarily on an author of limited interest.
But good for Houseman recovering from bilged examinations. Jonathan Swift did terribly on his examinations, but then made up for it.
[added}
>> Virgil and the Greeks would have made Shakespeare not merely a great genius, which he was already, but, like Milton, a great artist, which he is not.
Really?
Housema praises Matthew Arnold's essay "On Translating Homer*. When I read it, I found its premise odd: "My one object is to give practical advice to a translator." If this is to say "a translator of Homer", then there are few in any generation who attempt the task. If to translators in general, then an essay of Hilaire Belloc's strikes me as much more to the point. Then "or what he has in common with Milton--the noble and profound application of ideas to life--is the most essential part of poetic greatness." seems to me to offer cover for some pretty bad poetry.
Apart from being one of the finest poets in the modern era, Housman was also an excellent textual critic, and he once gave the most amusing and acerbic paper on textual criticism you’ll ever read: https://wsproject.org/method/philology/housman/complete.pdf
Fantastic talk, there's a bit of context which makes it all the more interesting.
This lecture was delivered on 3 October, 1892, by the newly-appointed Professor of Latin at University College, London, Alfred Edward Housman (1859-1936). This speech would be simply one example from hundreds of the genre, if it weren’t for three remarkable facts.
First, not only had Housman held no previous position in academia, he had spectacularly failed his examinations in Literae Humaniores (Classics) at Oxford. After a brief spell teaching at his old school, and quietly taking a mere Pass degree, he worked at the Patent Office in London, researching Greek and Latin literature in the British Museum Library whenever time allowed. For him to be appointed from outside Classics into the Chair of Latin[1] at one of Britain’s leading universities remains one of the most remarkable events in the history of academia, and indeed has merited a most remarkable book on the subject. Housman went on to become the most important Latin scholar in the world, and serving for a quarter-century as Kennedy Professor Latin at Cambridge (1911-36); when he left UCL he joked how he was “lifted out of the gutter” by his election in 1892.
Second, this is Housman’s first appearance in public as a scholar: he had little to no history of giving lectures, reading papers, or addressing academics in any capacity.[2] That he enters the fray with such clarity of purpose and conviction of voice is a mark of the man.
Third, Housman’s speech stands as one of the most eloquent defences of a principle that in his day was often challenged, and in our day is so rarely defended, viz that knowledge is inherently good: as humans we naturally pursue it; to acquire it gives pleasure; and each person is drawn, in theory if not always in practice, to different modes and realms of knowledge. The Sciences cannot be adequately defended on the basis of the utility they bring, nor the Humanities on the basis of the morally enriching power they are meant to wield. In short, Housman tells the assembled Faculties of Arts, Laws and Science, that their particular expertise is all well and good, but the value they possess for wider society, and indeed the right they assume for moral grandstanding, are capped at a relatively early stage in their intellectual progress. What lies beyond that point requires other justification, or none at all.
From: https://antigonejournal.com/2024/10/a-e-housman-introductory...
The most important Latin scholar in the world at that time? That is quite a claim. My recollection from Bernard Knox's essay "Closet Modern", collected in Essays Ancient and Modern is that Houseman's work, whatever its quality, was primarily on an author of limited interest.
But good for Houseman recovering from bilged examinations. Jonathan Swift did terribly on his examinations, but then made up for it.
[added}
>> Virgil and the Greeks would have made Shakespeare not merely a great genius, which he was already, but, like Milton, a great artist, which he is not.
Really?
Housema praises Matthew Arnold's essay "On Translating Homer*. When I read it, I found its premise odd: "My one object is to give practical advice to a translator." If this is to say "a translator of Homer", then there are few in any generation who attempt the task. If to translators in general, then an essay of Hilaire Belloc's strikes me as much more to the point. Then "or what he has in common with Milton--the noble and profound application of ideas to life--is the most essential part of poetic greatness." seems to me to offer cover for some pretty bad poetry.
Apart from being one of the finest poets in the modern era, Housman was also an excellent textual critic, and he once gave the most amusing and acerbic paper on textual criticism you’ll ever read: https://wsproject.org/method/philology/housman/complete.pdf