liberty, the other on the side of government; the one as urging restless
movement towards the ideal, the other as counselling steady acceptance of
the real.

From a more restricted point of view, the utility of Latin literature may
be sought in the practical standard of its thought, and in the almost
faultless correctness of its composition. On the former there is no need
to enlarge, for it has always been amply recognised. The latter excellence
fits it above all for an educational use. There is probably no language
which in this respect comes near to it. The Romans have been called with
justice a nation of grammarians. The greatest commanders and statesmen did
not disdain to analyse the syntax and fix the spelling of their language.
From the outset of Roman literature a knowledge of scientific grammar
prevailed. Hence the act of composition and the knowledge of its theory
went hand in hand. The result is that among Roman classical authors scarce
a sentence can be detected which offends against logical accuracy, or
defies critical analysis. In this Latin stands alone. The powerful
intellect of an Aeschylus or Thucydides did not prevent them from
transgressing laws which in their day were undiscovered, and which their
own writing helped to form. Nor in modern times could we find a single
language in which the idioms of the best writers could be reduced to
conformity with strict rule. French, which at first sight appears to offer
such an instance, is seen on a closer view to be fuller of illogical
idioms than any other language; its symmetrical exactness arises from
clear combination and restriction of single forms to a single use.
English, at least in its older form, abounds in special idioms, and German
is still less likely to be adduced. As long, therefore, as a penetrating
insight into syntactical structure is considered desirable, so long will
Latin offer the best field for obtaining it. In gaining accuracy, however,
classical Latin suffered a grievous loss. It became a cultivated as