entomology

Have you ever wondered about the etymology of the word entomology? I know I have. Entomology is the study of insects, and the word itself comes from the ancient Greek word for insect, entomon. The word entomon itself is made up of two other Greek words en- ('in') and -tomon, which comes from the verb temnein ('to cut').

The Latin for each of these words is in and sectus (from seco, secare), which of course gives us our English word 'insect', meaning a creature which is cut up into bits, a reference to the segmented division of their bodies (an observation which we apparently owe to Aristotle).

The Cave of Romulus?

According to this article (and this video) in yesterday's smh, archaeologists have discovered "the legendary cave where the she-wolf suckled Romulus and Remus, saving them from death." Or to be more accurate "Experts say they are "reasonably certain" it is the long-lost place of worship sacred to ancient Romans and known as Lupercale, from the Latin word for wolf." That means they think it's the place, that the Romans used to think was the place, where Romulus and Remus were saved by a wolf.

Livy records the story of the she-wolf finding Romulus and Remus, in the following passage:

Tenet fama cum fluitantem alveum, quo expositi erant pueri, tenuis in sicco aqua destituisset, lupam sitientem ex montibus qui circa sunt ad puerilem vagitum cursum flexisse; eam submissas infantibus adeo mitem praebuisse mammas ut lingua lambentem pueros magister regii pecoris invenerit (Faustulo fuisse nomen ferunt). ab eo ad stabula Larentiae uxori educandos datos.

Rumour prevails, that when the shallow water had left the floating basket, in which the boys had been abandoned, on dry ground, a thirsty wolf, down from the mountains which surround that place, bent her course to the boys' wailing. She lowered her teats, and offered them to the children so gently, that the master of the king's found her licking the boys with her tongue (they say his name was Faustulus). He took them home and gave them to his wife Larentia to be brought up.

However it seems Livy is a bit sceptical about the likelihood of this story, and so he tells us another story, which accounts for the development of this myth:

Sunt qui Larentiam volgato corpore lupam inter pastores vocatam putent; inde locum fabulae ac miraculo datum.

There those who say that Larentia was called 'Wolf' by the shepherds, since she was a prostitute; and this is the source of that incredible story.

Epic

There's a lot of epic going round at the moment. A new Beowulf film opens at the end of this month, and there's also a theatre version of Gilgamesh on in Sydney at the moment. In the last few years there's also been the movie Troy, and the Lord of the Rings trilogy, which was at least epic in scope, if not form.

There's an interesting article in the paper today about myths (Beowulf in particular) and why our culture remains fascinated by them, even after so long. Here are a few excerpts:

Scholars, authors and fans say the poem endures because it is a timeless yarn about brave souls purging peaceful societies of agents of evil...

It seems we just can't let go of Beowulf or it won't let go of us," says Robert Ellwood, professor emeritus of religion at the University of Southern California. "Every time a classic is adapted, some scholars claim it's their providence and others shouldn't mess with it. Some others, however, argue that the more up-to-date a myth is the better."

Ellwood adds: "I tend to agree with [Claude] Levi-Strauss, who said, 'A myth is all of its variants across time and space.' In other words, a myth is for right now; it's a living thing that adapts to different social situations."

I would add another observation, that most epics tend to be about action rather than character, and (generally speaking) action-driven movies are much more appealing to a broad audience than character-driven ones.

I wonder if that's why there hasn't been an English-speaking movie of the Aeneid ever made (as far as I'm aware).

Firstly the Aeneid is largely about the character of Aeneas. Sure, it's full of battles, and there's a bit of a love story thrown in, but what concerns Virgil most is the character of Aeneas, and his transformation.

Secondly, the Aeneid is not a timeless story about good and evil. It's firmly rooted in the history of the first century B.C., and celebrates (in an allegorical manner) the defeat of Antony by Augustus, and his establishment of 'peace'. Civil wars are especially messy, and there's a measure of ambiguity in the Aeneid that reflects this. It's by no means a black and white tale about good and evil.

Roman Wordplay

I've just finished reading Mother Tongue, Bill Bryson's very entertaining book about the English language. One chapter is all about wordplay, where he has this to say:

Wordplay is about as old as language itself, and about as various. As Tony Augarde notes... many verbal pastimes go back to the futhest reaches of antiquity. Palindromes, sentences that read the same backwards as forwards, are at least 2,000 years old. The ancient Greeks often put 'nipson anomimata mi monan opsin' on fountains. It translates as 'Wash the sin as well as the face'.' The Romans admired them too, as demonstrated by 'in girum imus noctem et consumimur igni' ('We enter the circle after dark and are consumed by fire'), which was said to describe the actions of moths. The Romans also liked anagrams- scrambling the letters of a word or phrase to form new words or phrases- and turned 'quid est veritas?' ('What is truth?') into 'est vir qui adest' ('It is this man here?').

(Bill Bryson, Mother Tongue, p 224)

This site has some more Latin word games, including my favourite, the Sator square.

sandaligerula

Laudator temporis acti is a blog that I like to read from time to time. It's always full of obscure, yet intensely interesting (to me at least) reflections on all kinds of things, such as the this post about sandaligerula- slaves whose sole job was to help their master change shoes.

Extension exam

My (former) year twelve students sat their Latin extension paper on Friday morning, along with about a hundred other students around the state. I thought it was quite a tricky paper- and from what I can gather so did they.

The extended response question asked students to analyse jut one passage of Cicero, rather than to compare a passage from each of the two authors they had studied.

"Analyse the development of Cicero's argument in this extract, evaluating his use of language and imagery, as well as features typical of Latin philosophical writing."

That's not completely unusual, though over the past few years the essay questions have tended towards comparison. Only having one passage to write about limits the amount you can write to some extent, but there was quite a lot to discuss from the passage, and of course answering the question proprely is more important than how much you can write.

I thought the unseen (from Lucretius) was also pretty hard. It was on the long side for starters (10 lines; the syllabus specifies unseens should be between 8-10 lines. Last years was 9 lines, the year before 8), and there were a couple of bits it seems even the exam committee thought would be difficult, as they gave a translation (rather than a dictionary definition) for them in the vocab.

Students were also asked to identify an example each of chiasmus and antithesis from the passage. Both terms are listed in the syllabus, and so are, I suppose, fair game- though I'd be surprised if many students knew antithesis- it's not something that came up much as we read the set texts. The best students would (I hope) have been able to work out that they were looking for some kind of contrast. Literary analysis is important, but I think this was a bit of a mean question - testing English vocabulary rather than the ability to analyse a passage of Latin. At least they were only worth one mark each.

more than my eyes...

Reading a bit of Catullus recently, I was struck by a phrase I’d never noticed before. He speaks of loving someone ‘more than one's eyes’:

passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quem plus illa oculis suis amabat.

My girlfriend’s sparrow has died,
The sparrow, my girlfriend’s darling,
Whom she loved more than her eyes.

(Catullus, Carmen 3)

ni te plus oculis meis amarem,
iucundissime Calve, munere isto
odissem te odio Vatiniano

If I didn’t love you more than my eyes
Calvus you joker, then an account of your gift
I’d hate you with Vatinian hatred.

(Catullus, Carmen 14)

credis me potuisse meae maledicere vitae,
ambobus mihi quae carior est oculis?

Do you believe that I could have cursed my life
Who is dearer to me than both my eyes.

(Catullus, Carmen 104)

I had a quick look through Ovid’s Amores, to see if Ovid uses the same kind of idiom. I couldn’t find any examples, but he does often talk about swearing ‘by one’s eyes’:

at mihi te comitem iuraras usque futuram—
per me perque oculos, sidera nostra, tuos!

But you swore to stay with me forever,
By me and by your eyes, my stars.

(Ovid, Amores II 16.43-44)

perque suos illam nuper iurasse recordor
perque meos oculos: en doluere mei!

I remember that she swore recently, by her eyes
And by mine too: and look, now they’re in pain!

(Ovid, Amores III 3.13-14)

Parce, per o lecti socialia iura, per omnis
qui dant fallendos se tibi saepe deos,
perque tuam faciem, magni mihi numinis instar,
perque tuos oculos, qui rapuere meos!

O spare me, by the bed that made our bond, by all the
Gods who have let you take their names in vain,
By your face as great to me as the great gods of heaven,
And by your eyes, which ravished mine.

(Ovid, Amores III 11b.13-16)

The father of History

I've posted a bit about Herodotus recently, so I thought I'd include a picture of the big man himself. This is from my recent trip to Europe, out the front of the parliament in Vienna (Herodotus is the one on the left). On one side of the huge ramp that leads up to the entrance are statues of four great Greek historians: Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon and Polybius. On the other side are four great Roman historians: Livy, Tacitus, Julius Caesar and Sallust.

They're interesting figures to have outside your parliament house. I guess the architects wanted to emphasise how important an understanding of history is in making laws and exercising power, as well as identifying themselves with what they saw as a enlightened and admirable civilisations.

jewel of islands

I noticed that one of the horses in yesterday’s Melbourne Cup was called Sirmione, I presume after the name of the town near Lake Garda in Northern Italy. The poet Catullus owned a villa in Sirmio (as it was called then), and wrote a poem to celebrate returning home from overseas:

paene insularum, Sirmio, insularumque
ocelle, quascumque in liquentibus stagnis
marique vasto fert uterque Neptunus,
quam te libenter quamque laetus inviso,
vix mi ipse credens Thyniam atque Bithynos
liquisse campos et videre te in tuto.
o quid solutis est beatius curis,
cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrine
labore fessi venimus larem ad nostrum,
desideratoque acquiescimus lecto?
hoc est quod unum est pro laboribus tantis.
salve, o venusta Sirmio, atque ero gaude
gaudente, vosque, o Lydiae lacus undae,
ridete quidquid est domi cachinnorum.
Sirmio, jewel of islands and almost-islands,
And of all that Neptune bears in glassy pools, or on the vast sea,
How pleased, how happy I am to see you again,
Hardly believing that I have left Thynia and the Bithynian
plains behind, and found you safe.
O what could be better than to have no worries,
When the mind lays down its burden, and when,
Tired of foreign service, we have come to our hearth
And rest content upon our longed-for bed?
This on its own makes all the hardship worth it.
Greetings, delightful Sirmio. Enjoy your master’s
Joy, and you, lake of Lydian waves,
Laugh with all the laughter there is within you.

(Catullus 31)

The words which begin this poem (paene insularum) mean literally ‘almost-islands’ and give us our English word 'peninsula'.

The picture at the top shows the ruins of a large Roman villa at Sirmio, which definitely did not belong to Catullus (it's about a hundred years too late).

Melbourne Cup

With the Melbourne cup on today, I thought would be a good time to share Ovid’s tips for finding love at the races.

Proximus a domina, nullo prohibente, sedeto,
Iunge tuum lateri qua potes usque latus;
Et bene, quod cogit, si nolis, linea iungi,
Quod tibi tangenda est lege puella loci.

No one can stop you from sitting as close as you want to your mistress; squash up side by side, as close as you can. Even if she’s shy, the girl will have to let you touch her, because the benches are so crowded.

Hic tibi quaeratur socii sermonis origo,
Et moveant primos publica verba sonos.
Cuius equi veniant, facito, studiose, requiras:
Nec mora, quisquis erit, cui favet illa, fave.

Then you should look to start some kind of friendly conversation, and let the occasion provide your first words. ‘Whose horses are they?’ you should ask, enthusiastically: and whichever horses she backs, you should back too, without delay.

Utque fit, in gremium pulvis si forte puellae
Deciderit, digitis excutiendus erit:
Etsi nullus erit pulvis, tamen excute nullum:
Quaelibet officio causa sit apta tuo.
Pallia si terra nimium demissa iacebunt,
Collige, et inmunda sedulus effer humo;
Protinus, officii pretium, patiente puella
Contingent oculis crura videnda tuis.

And if by chance (as sometimes happens) a speck of dust should fall into the girl’s lap, brush it away with your fingers: and even if there’s nothing there, brush that nothing away. Anything should be an opportunity for your courtship. If her cloak comes undone and trails on the ground, pick it up and carefully lift it from the filthy dirt. If the girl consents you’ll get the reward for your efforts straight away- a glimpse at her legs.

Respice praeterea, post vos quicumque sedebit,
Ne premat opposito mollia terga genu.
Parva leves capiunt animos: fuit utile multis
Pulvinum facili composuisse manu.
Profuit et tenui ventos movisse tabella,
Et cava sub tenerum scamna dedisse pedem.

Look back to see who sits behind you, to make sure he doesn’t prod her tender back with his knee. Small things please little minds: it’s a good idea to arrange her cushion with your skilful hands. It’s also helpful to fan her gently with your program, and to put a hollow stool under her dainty feet.

(Ovid, Ars Amatoria I.139ff)

Hippos

Herodotus also has something to say about hippos:

The hippopotamus is held sacred in the district of Papremis, but not elsewhere. This animal has four legs, cloven hoofs like an ox, a snub nose, a horse’s mane and tail, conspicuous tusks, a voice like a horse’s neigh, and is about the size of a very large ox. Its hide is so thick and tough, that when dried it can be made into spear shafts.

(Herodotus, Book II.71)

The notes on this passage in my penguin translation say:

The description of the hippopotamus represents the nadir of Herodotean zoology. Clearly he saw neither the real thing nor pictures of it, and his description is based purely on its Greek name, which means ‘river-horse’.

If only Herodotus had seen this mosaic he might have been able to give a better description- though I’m not sure hippos are supposed to have such evil grins.

crocodili

When I was in Rome recently I visited the museo nazionale, which has a huge collection of Roman statues, frescoes and mosaics, including this one, which you might recognise from Book II of the Cambridge Latin Course, showing pygmies hunting a crocodile and hippos on the river Nile.

The Greek historian Herodotus, describes a similar hunt for us in Book II of his Histories:

The following is an account of the crocodile. During the four winter months it takes no food. It is a four-footed, amphibious creature, lays and hatches its eggs on land, where it spends the greater part of the day, and stays all night in the river, where the water is warmer than the night-air and the dew. The difference in size between the young and the full-grown crocodile is greater than in any other known creature; for a crocodile’s egg is hardly bigger than a goose’s, and the young when hatched are small in proportion, yet they grow to a size of some twenty-three feet long or even more. It has eyes like a pig’s but great fang-like teeth in proportion to its body, and is the only animal to have no tongue and a stationary lower jaw; for when it eats it brings the upper jaw down upon the under. It has powerful claws and a scaly hide, which on its back is impenetrable. It cannot see under water, though on land its sight is remarkably sharp…

Of the numerous ways of catching crocodiles I will describe the one which seems to me the most worthy to report. They bait a hook with a big bit of pork and let it float out into midstream, and at the same time, standing on the bank, take a live pig and beat it. The crocodile, hearing its squeals, makes a rush towards it, encounters the bait, gulps it down, and is hauled out of the water. The first thing the huntsman does when he has got the beast on land is to plaster its eyes with mud: this done, it is dispatched easily enough- but without this precaution it will give you a lot of trouble.

(Herodotus, Book II.68,70)

Herodotus, by the way, never one to let facts stand in the way of an interesting story, is wrong about crocodiles. They do have tongues, they do move their lower rather than their upper jaws and their eyesight underwater is excellent.