Laudator Temporis Acti

A.E. Housman, The Confines of Criticism. The Cambridge Inaugural, 1911 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), p. 21:

But the definition of a scholar is vir bonus discendi peritus, and that conception was personified in Munro.

Cato defined the orator as vir bonus dicendi peritus, the good man skilled in speaking, and a slight twist to the expression gives us the definition of a scholar as vir bonus discendi peritus, the good man skilled in learning. I like this definition better than others which could be devised, such as vir bonus scribendi peritus (the good man skilled in writing) or vir bonus docendi peritus (the good man skilled in teaching). The true scholar, unmoved by "publish or perish," doesn't rush into print. William M. Calder III, in Gnomon 51 (1979) 207, recalled a remark by Benedict Einarson: "He told me aged 25 that I must write nothing until 40 for I would not know enough." And what scholar worth his salt wouldn't rather spend time reading in the library than teaching in the classroom?

William M. Calder III, "Vir Bonus Discendi Peritus," American Journal of Philology 108 (1987) 168–171, tracked down the source of this definition, to a speech which Wilamowitz delivered on September 27, 1877. Here is the relevant passage from the speech, as found in Verhandlungen der 32. Versammlung deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner in Wiesbaden vom 26. September bis 29. September 1877 (Leipzig: B.G. Teubner, 1878), p. 41:

Wir Philologen von heute haben eine andere, eine weit bescheidenere Stellung, denn da J.J. Scaliger die ganze Welt der Wissenschaft umspannte, oder die unbeschreibliche Herrlichkeit der griechischen Kunst sich Winckelmann und G. Hermann erschloss; den heutigen Philologen mag man definieren als den vir bonus discendi peritus, dem vor der Wucht des zu Lernenden das freudige Gefühl des Wissens und des Könnens erstirbt, dem mancher Tag des Suchens nicht bloss mit dem Geständniss schliesst, dass er das Gesuchte noch nicht gefunden habe, sondern dass es sich überhaupt noch nicht finden lasse. Doch wir konnen nicht über unsern Schatten springen, wir müssen den Weg gehen, den die Wissenschaft uns und unserer Zeit gestellt hat, und lassen wir uns der Mühe nicht verdriessen, so blüht eine Blume wohl auch hie und da an unserm Wege.

Inspired by Roger Pearse, who recently described his success in using Google Translate to produce a translation of some Russian text, I thought I would see how Google Translate rendered Wilamowitz's German. Here is the result:

We philologists today have a different, far more modest position, because as JJ Scaliger spanned the entire world of science, or the indescribable glory of Greek art, Winckelmann and G. Hermann opened up, the philologist might define it today as the vir bonus discendi Peritus, which, before the brunt of the learner to the joyous feeling of knowing and abilities dies out, the many days of searching includes not only the confession that he had not yet found what you're looking, but that it can not leave at all. But we can not jump over our shadow, we must walk the path that has made ​​us and the science of our time, and let us grieve not the trouble, a flower blooms well here and there on our way.

I used to tell students, "This passage makes sense in Latin, and your English translation has to make sense, too. It isn't nonsense in Latin, and it can't be nonsense in English." Google Translate's version of Wilamowitz's German seems to fail the "intelligibility" test. Does Microsoft's Bing Translator do any better? Let's see:

We philologists of today have a different, a far more modest position, because j.j. Scaliger which spanned all over the world of science, or Winckelmann and G. Hermann opened up the indescribable glory of Greek art; one may define the modern philologists as the vir bonus discendi peritus, before the force of dies to learners the joyful feeling of knowledge and the skills which includes some day of searching not just with the Geständniss that he still not found what you want, but that it is ever still not find leave. But we don't have our shadow jump can, we must go the way science has shown us and our time, and let not disgruntling us trouble, so flowers a flower probably also here and there on our way.

My knowledge of German (based on two semesters' tuition at the elementary level many decades ago) was never very good, and it has grown rusty with disuse. I may be fundamentally misunderstanding the German [I am, see below], but this is what I think it means:

We philologists of today occupy a different, a far more modest position, than when J.J Scaliger embraced the entire world of knowledge, or when the indescribable magnificence of Greek art revealed itself to Winckelmann and to Gottfried Hermann; one might define the contemporary philologist as the vir bonus discendi peritus, for whom the joyful feeling of knowledge and skill has succumbed to the power of the pedant, for whom many a day of searching ends not merely with the confession that he hasn't found what he was seeking, but that it doesn't even allow itself be found at all. But we cannot jump over our shadow, we must travel down the road which science and our time have laid down, and not allow the effort to trouble us, provided that a flower might bloom here and there on our way.

The phrase which stymies me the most is "Wucht des zu Lernenden." I think that "des...Lernenden" is a "substantiviertes Partizip Präsens Aktiv" ("the learning [man]") and that "zu" is adverbial ("too" or "excessively"), and so I translate the phrase as "the power of the pedant". [Wrong! See below.] Corrections on this or any other point are welcome.

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Thanks very much to Dr. J.L.H. Krans for the following:

This is your translation, with my few remarks between [ ]:

We philologists of today occupy a different, a far more modest position, than when J.J. Scaliger embraced the entire world of knowledge, or when the indescribable magnificence of Greek art revealed itself to Winckelmann and to Gottfried Hermann; one might define the contemporary philologist as the vir bonus discendi peritus, for whom the joyful feeling of knowledge and skill has succumbed to the power of the pedant [to the power of what is to be learned], for whom many a day of searching ends not merely with the confession that he hasn't found what he was seeking, but that it doesn't even allow itself be found [to be found] at all. But we cannot jump over our shadow, we must travel down the road which science and our time have laid down [which science has laid down for us and our time], and not allow the effort to trouble us, provided that a flower [and if we do not allow ourselves to be put off by the effort, then a flower] might bloom here and there on our way.

•"Wucht" = "power", but (here) with a nuance of effort to attain something; so maybe "the powerful desire to ...”
•"das zu Lernende" = "that which has/is to be learned"
•"Wissenschaft" = "science", but also "scholarship", which might be more appropriate when philology is concerned
•the inversion "lassen wir ..." signals a conditional phrase; the following "so" equals "then"

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Thanks also to Arsen Darnay, who writes:

"Die Wucht des zu Lernenden" might be rendered as "the weight of that still to be learned."

My Langenscheid's renders Wucht as weight; force; impetus. For me the first meaning that came to mind was force, but in the sense of a pressure, thus as of a massive weight pressing down on me. It holds a kind of dynamic, that word, because it is also described, in reference to physics, as inertia force (methinks that should be inertial force), momentum, and kinetic energy. In my rendition above, I've inserted the "still" to give voice to the real intent behind the German phrasing in English--obeying an urge all good translators resist at their peril.

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A corrected translation:

We philologists of today occupy a different, a far more modest position, than when J.J. Scaliger embraced the entire world of knowledge, or when the indescribable magnificence of Greek art revealed itself to Winckelmann and to Gottfried Hermann; one might define the contemporary philologist as the vir bonus discendi peritus, for whom the joyful feeling of knowledge and skill has succumbed to the weight of that still to be learned, for whom many a day of searching ends not merely with the confession that he hasn't found what he was seeking, but that it doesn't even allow itself to be found at all. But we cannot jump over our shadow, we must travel down the road which scholarship has laid down for us and our time, and if we do not allow ourselves to be put off by the effort, then a flower might bloom here and there on our way.